Policing and Democracy: The Influence of Narratives on Police Discretion

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Policing and Democracy: The Influence of Narratives on Police Discretion
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Copyright 2005 by Guillermina Sofía Seri


To Guillermo Augusto Seri


iv ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I want to thank my supervisory committee Chairs and members and several other people who supported me throughout this project. I especially thank Guilermo Seri, Sergio Cis, Américo Luis González, Dr. José Monzón, Lic. Alejandro Salomón, Eduardo E. Estévez, Cecilia L. Ales (CELS), Alberto Giordanelli, Dr. Carlos L. Mendive, Esc. Guillermo Eduardo Stirling Soto, Prof. Gloria Robaina, Jong And Binot Malabed, María Rosa Bichler, Carlos Bompadre, among those who helped me in Argentina, Uruguay, and the Philippines. I want to express my gratitude to all the police officers who agreed to be interviewed. I especially thank Dr. Ian Loader and the UK Data Archive of the Economic and Social Data Service (ESDS) at the University of Essex, for generously allowing me to access Database SN 4594. At different stages, my project received support from the School of Education at the National University of Entre Rios (according to ordinance 028/82, title IV, art. 13, point I, incise a, and ordinance 278/97, art. 23, incise h of UNERs statute), the National University of Catamarca, and the School of Social Sciences from Entre Ríos in Argentina. My research fieldwork and first stages of writing were made possible by the a Ruth McQuown Scholarship during Spring 2003, a McLaughlin Dissertation Fellowship during the Summer 2003, and a Tinker Summer Grant supporting preliminary fieldwork in Argentina during the Summer 2001. Overall, I want to express my appreciation to the people from the Department of Political Science at the University of Florida who made this journey possible for me. Finally, I want to thank


v María and Manuel for their courage and support in imagining and exploring new worlds together. I also thank Derek, a loving inhabitant of this (brave) new world.


vi TABLE OF CONTENTS page ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.................................................................................................iv LIST OF TABLES...............................................................................................................x ABSTRACT....................................................................................................................... xi CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION........................................................................................................1 The Puzzle ....................................................................................................................1 Research Problem.......................................................................................................12 Methods ......................................................................................................................14 Plan of the Study ........................................................................................................19 2 THE LITERATURE ON DEMOCRATI ZATION: A PUZZLING OVERLOOK OF POLICING............................................................................................................22 Lawlessly Democratic ............................................................................................... .25 What about the Major Works?....................................................................................33 Policing as an Indicator of Trust .........................................................................33 More or Less Repressive Class Alliances and the Role of Culture: Barrington Moore...............................................................................................................35 Huntington’s Silences..........................................................................................37 Placing Policing at the Core of the State: Skocpol, Olson, and Tilly..................40 Government and Police as Stationary Banditry...................................................43 The State as Policing ...........................................................................................46 The Little Brothers of the Milita ry? Transitions and Consolidations.................. 51 Democratization, Policing, and the Rule of Law........................................................53 “New” Democracies and the New Literature ......................................................55 Need for Reform..................................................................................................59 The Rule of Law..................................................................................................68 Law against sovereign power? .....................................................................73 Locke vs. Aristotle .......................................................................................72 Democracy and the Democratization of Policing.......................................................85 Forms of Democracy and Democratization.........................................................86 Democratizing Policing.......................................................................................95 Blueprints ............................................................................................................97 Conclusion..................................................................................................................99


vii 3 HISTORICAL FORMS OF POLICING ..................................................................102 Origins of Policing....................................................................................................104 From Community to Clientage..........................................................................107 The Origins of the Modern Police.....................................................................109 Liberal Myths ....................................................................................................111 Patterns of Policing...................................................................................................113 Citizen (or Denizen) Self-Policing....................................................................115 The case of Athens: The policing of the demos.........................................115 The case of the early Roman Republic.......................................................121 The case of the Germanic tribes.................................................................124 A contemporary case of self-policing: Rondas campesinas in Per..........128 Self-policing and “local capacity governance” in South Africa and Argentina ................................................................................................131 Clientage............................................................................................................13 5 Feudalism ...................................................................................................136 21th century clienteles................................................................................139 Private Policing .................................................................................................140 State Policing.....................................................................................................1 45 Late Roman Republic.................................................................................145 Modern police ............................................................................................147 Current Trends and Challenges ................................................................................1 54 Concluding Remarks ................................................................................................157 4 THE PLACE OF POLICING IN POLITICAL THEORY.......................................161 Pre-Modern References to Policing..........................................................................165 Life, Markets, Spies...........................................................................................165 Policing the City, the Republic, and the Soul....................................................176 Modern Order and Modern Police............................................................................1 85 Mortal Sovereigns: Policing Nation States........................................................1 85 Enlightening Police ...........................................................................................192 The Political Economy Link to Police...............................................................197 Hegel and Marx.................................................................................................200 Ghostly Totalitarianisms ...................................................................................205 Challenging Republicanism: The Character of Police Power ...........................208 The Postmodern Critique of Policing .......................................................................212 Foucault: Police and Biopolitics........................................................................215 Universal and individualizing ....................................................................217 Reason, order, happiness: From utopia to science .....................................219 Agamben: Sovereign biopolitical police....................................................222 Rancire: Police and the political...............................................................226 Global police order.....................................................................................229 Conclusions...............................................................................................................231


viii 5 POLICE WORLDVIEWS A ND STYLES OF POLICING.....................................235 Stories and Characters, Character and Stories..........................................................238 Narratives as Moral and Political Programs .............................................................244 Figurative Language as Transmitter of Stories..................................................253 Social Dimensions of Po lice Narratives and Tropes ......................................... 254 Police Stories and Police Practices....................................................................261 Democratic Narratives (and Tropes)?.......................................................................263 The Stories the Police Tell Themselves: Narratives of Argentinean, Uruguayan, Filipino, and British Police Officers .....................................................................267 The Challenge for Democracy...........................................................................272 Views of Power .................................................................................................277 How discretionary power is used ...............................................................284 Images of power.........................................................................................290 The visible and the invisible: Who watches whom? ..................................303 Demo cracy’s Success Stories : Police Voices’ Critical Moments......................307 Preliminary Findings ................................................................................................312 Concluding Remarks: How Can Narratives Help Us Democratize Uses of Police Discretion? ............................................................................................................318 6 POLICE DISCRETION, A CHALLENGE FOR DEMOCRATIZATION .............322 Police Discretion as a Challenge for Democracy .....................................................329 The Structure of Discretion ...............................................................................329 Democratic vs. Administrative Power.............................................................. 331 Police discretion ................................................................................................335 Ambiguity of Discretionary Power ...................................................................341 Responses to Police Discretion: between Law, Order, and the Living Law .............343 The Influence of Managerialism and Community Policing: From Professionalism to Flexible Cops .................................................................. 345 Community Policing ..................................................................................346 Training......................................................................................................348 Discretion, Eliminable Feature or Core of Police Power? ................................351 Acknowledging Discretion................................................................................ 355 Theoretical Coordinates of Discretion......................................................................357 The Sovereign Character of Discretionary Power.............................................357 Police Discretion as a Case of Practical Judgment............................................360 Phron sis ....................................................................................................362 The classics.................................................................................................365 Postmodern (?) contributions .....................................................................373 Prudentia l policing.....................................................................................3 77 For an Analytics of Discretionary Judgment: Assessing Abductions ...............381 Conclusion: Democratizing Discretion?...................................................................394 7 CONCLUSION.........................................................................................................398


ix APPENDIX A DATA COLLECTION .............................................................................................419 Argentina ..................................................................................................................420 Philippines ................................................................................................................421 Uruguay .................................................................................................................... 422 United Kingdom .......................................................................................................422 B ARGENTINA, GREAT BRITAIN, UR UGUAY, AND THE PHILIPPINES. ORGANIZATION AND TRADIT IONS OF POLICING .......................................424 Argentinean Police.................................................................................................... 424 British Police ............................................................................................................427 Police in Uruguay .....................................................................................................430 Filipino Police...........................................................................................................431 C COUNTRIES AND LEVELS OF TRUST IN THE POLICE..................................434 D INSTRUMENTAL OF DATA COLLECTION. “POLICING AND GOVERNANCE: AN EXAMINATION FR OM MODERN ARGENTINA.”........436 E THE POLICE AND THE COMMUNITY. AN ILLUSTRATION .........................439 LIST OF REFERENCES.................................................................................................447 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH ...........................................................................................483


x LIST OF TABLES Table page 3-1 Major historical forms of policing ........................................ ..................................114 5-1 Political nature of narratives across themes.......... 264 5-2 Authoritarian, ambiguous, and democratic Tropes ................................................266 5-3 Images of the police ................................................................................................292 C-1 Countries and levels of trust in the police...............................................................434


xii Abstract of Dissertation Presented to the Graduate School of the University of Florida in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy POLICING AND DEMOCRACY: THE INFLUENCE OF NARRATIVES ON POLICE DISCRETION By Guillermina Sofía Seri August 2005 Chair: Leslie Anderson Cochair: Leslie Paul Thiele Major Department: Political Science My study began with the claim that no political regime can be truly democratic until policing becomes so. Despite the recent spread of democratic regimes in the world, episodes of police violence and authoritarian practices of policing continue thriving and undermining democracy. The democratization of policing requires democratizing the use of discretionary power which occurs in the gaps and glitches of the law. My study characterizes police power as a type of governing power, at once executive, judicial, and quasi-legislative. Police power needs to be studied by students of democratization. I question representations of the rule of law that inspire most views on policing in political science, and propose to recuperate a classical understanding of the law that incorporates discretionary judgment. At the heart of my argument lies the concept of police discretion, which I understand as theoretically rooted in the notion of sovereign power and regulated through legitimizing narratives. Engaging in a critical dialogue with the work of Aristotle,


xiii Foucault, and Agamben, I approach policing as a capillary form of state sovereignty and the most literal expression of governance. Narratives inform the action of those who police us. They provide the raw material for the exercise of discretionary judgment. My study combines the review of canonical and postmodern works in political theory with a comparative empirical approach to examine narratives on policing and police discretion. It is my contention that narratives, stories, and tropes make a crucial difference in forms of exercising police discretion. By drawing on both theory and empirical data, I identify narrative elements informing practices of policing. To use discretion democratically is to interpret interstices and glitches of the law in an inclusive manner that draws on egalitarian beliefs. The comparative analysis of police narratives drawn from over 70 tape-recorded interviews with police officers from Argentina, Uruguay, the Philippines, the United Kingdom, and the United States gives empirical support to my argument. The analysis of interviews serves to map police narratives in different contexts. Certain narratives seem to reproduce globally. My study stresses the specificity of the political and governing aspects involved in policing.


1 CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION The Puzzle It is night. A policeman sees a group of male teenagers chatting on the corner. This police officer has many stories to choose from. He has a considerable power to define the situation and act toward it. His perception of reality and the law and his choices to intervene construct the situation and may define it as crime. These are just a few of the possible stories that he can tell himself: These are spoiled kids who have nothing better to do. You know, wasting their time by hanging out. Thats how they spend time„with their friends. Teenagers now are happier outside than inside their homesŽ (PHIL5). These are Latino kids hanging out in a white neighborhood. What are they doing here? I think I know that guy. He is member of a gang. That one, his T-shirt looks like one of those gang T-shirtsŽ A criminal is going to ignore me, they arent going to recognize that Im there. O.K.? Its about losing face. What they are gonna do is not lose face in front of me, what they are basically gonna do is ignore my presence. That whats criminals do.Ž (US) If one passes and sees that these kids say hello and they do not provoke the police, there is no reason to intervene. Instead, in neighborhoods that are conflictive or marginal, one observes these kids. One sees their caps, the T-shirt outside the pants. If one sees that they are wearing tennis shoes that do not match their economic position. And one feels that their glances target the police, while other groups of kids do not give [the police] importance, because they know that they are not doing anything wrongƒŽ (ARG15). The conclusion: one intervenes.Ž We must answer to the neighbors, who are the ones who call and say There are a few kids who are drinking at the corner, who make noise and bother us, who are taking drugsƒ. But we also protect the rights of these persons. I mean, there is no norm here saying that nobody can be at the corner. Or that they can drink. We cannot prohibit it. Yes, if we prove that they make noise, that they are bothering the


2 neighbors, one attempts to make them see the situation, andƒGenerally we have no problems. Generally, the kids accept and leaveŽ (UR3). These stories make the police officer see different scenarios. Being ignored by a group of teenagers is judged suspicious by an American police officer and normal by an Argentinean. The first story will probably not lead the police officer to intervene, but his or her dismissive attitude biases the police officer against them. In case of intervention, this story may lead to abuse. The second story does not come from a transcript. It is drawn from laws that led to the arrest of 40,000 to 45,000 people in Chicago during the 1990s. It draws on a racist view that reifies crime through contingent racial categories. Physical traits or clothing style make a person immediately a suspect. For a person perceived in these terms, walking or driving a car in an area where he or she is not supposed to beŽ may result in criminalization. A story like this leads police officers to intervene with absolute disregard for the rights of those they judge to not look like (middle class) respectable citizens. In the United States these stories are framed in terms of race; in South America, they openly stigmatize the poor. During the 1990s, stories like this led to the detention of thousands of young people accused of loitering in Chicago. One of the victims of police and legal abuse, Jesús Morales, led the case to the US Supreme Court, which concluded that the anti-loitering policies adopted in Chicago were discriminatory and unconstitutional. But other youths have been less fortunate than Morales and his friends. Amadiou Diallo, Anthony Baez, and Patrick Dorismond in New York (McArdle 2001, pp. 2-3), thousands of street-children and poor teenagers in Brazil, and hundreds of people in Argentina have been murdered by the police under the impulse of narratives like these. In different contexts, stories such as the second, third, and fourth


3 have repeateadly criminalized, and brutalized, differenceŽ (McArdle, p. 11), for they foster happy trigger policies against poor young males. The last story allows the police officer to see himself as someone who must help people solve their conflicts and maintain a peaceful life in common. His perspective focuses on possible conflicts of interests and he shows respect and equal consideration for the interests of all possible parties. His view is not prejudiced. This narrative shapes and legitimizes practices of policing drawn from an egalitarian, democratic order. This is not simply a question of good and bad police officers. The same police officer may behave in a civilized manner with certain groups of the population, and violently with others. I argue that this difference can be traced in the narratives that shape practices of policing. Stories, images, and tropes contribute to shape uses of discretionary power by the police. As characters in a novel, police officers choose from a range of possibilities predetermined by the social definition of their identities. Stories shape their feelings, perception, judgment, and decision. Once a story like these gives form to the situation, the police officer has two main choices to make: First, decide whether to intervene; second, if deciding to intervene, choose from a range of possible forms of intervention. The decision of the police officer is invested with the authority and coercive power of the state. This is the realm of police discretion. I argue that the democratization of policing consists of democratizing this power. My study approaches policing and governance as synonyms (Shearing, 1996), and presents citizen-police encounters as the most concrete expression of governance. It interrogates the possibilities for democratic practices of policing, focusing on the


4 potential of stories to contribute to the democratization of uses of police discretion. I approached the stories that shape police officers forms of perception and discretionary judgment as possible transmitters of elements that foster the reproduction of authoritarianism, abuse, and police violence. Empirical findings that support the present study led me to anticipate the following interpretation: Narratives arise from both direct experience and deliberate attempts from both national culture and contextual learning to instill dogma ( i.e., , state or church propaganda). Once shaped, narratives circulate and transmit experience (or dogma) through face-to-face communication and other, mediated, forms of communication. The state has a decisive influence on the types of narratives of policing that it disseminates throughout the state apparatus and the educational system. The state authorizes, discourages, or censors different narrative strands. Other key sources of narratives on policing include the media and representations generated by peoples experience and transmitted in a face-to-face manner. Ultimately, narratives spread through global cultural and institutional networks (through training, literature, the global media, and fictional sources). The latter give a distinctive trait to loca l forms of popular culture.1The average man is not directly interested in politics, and when he reads, he wants the current struggles of the world to be translated into a simple story about individuals,Ž argues George Orwell (1944). Orwell is right. At least in our contemporary societies, the political reaches us through stories, preferably stories involving individuals. Through the puzzles, dilemmas, and characters embedded in stories we embody political ideas. Robert Dahl (1990, p. 1) calls for new ideas about authority and new practicesŽ to transform 1 The depiction of the police by rap songs in th e United States and cumbia villeraŽ lyrics in Argentina expose the ways in which the poor and excluded are harassed by the police.


5 authoritarian institutions into democratic ones. The democratization of policing requires to (re)create stories that promote egalitarian uses of police power. My study contributes to identifying them. All individuals„especially the most vulnerable such as children, women, and members of religious or ethnic minorities„need protection against abuse and violence. Throughout history, communities have responded to this need, providing for diverse forms of social control and policing. David Bayley (1975, p. 328) defines policing as the regulation of interpersonal relations within a community through the applications of coercive sanctions authorized in the name of the community.Ž The protection of citizen rights through some form of policing is necessary in a democratic society. However, as T. Jones, T. Newburn, and D. Smith (1998, p. 187) put it, the paradox involved in policing is that the powers that the police possess for the protection of fundamental freedoms, also provide the potential for severe abuse of these freedoms.Ž Policing tends to develop into a tool for the powerful in society. When this occurs, instead of supporting peoples freedom, dignity, and equal political rights, those in charge of policing act as private armiesŽ of the powerful and reinforce networks of clientage. Hence, as the same authors suggest, practices of policing constitute a major indicator of the nature of the political and social order.Ž The democratic organization of the political regime then appears as a necessary but not sufficient condition for democratization. The progress of democracy demands the democratization of state force, especially of the force invested in policing. Perhaps no other institution is more central to the success of democratic nation-building than the police,Ž says Bayley (qtd. in Shearing, 1995, p. 29). Yet, as Monique Marks (2000, p.


6 558) and Laura Kalmanowiecki (1991, p. 48) indicate, neither elections nor legal and institutional reforms are enough to democratize policing. Whereas new laws and institutions contribute to making policing compatible with democratic governance, they are not sufficient to change authoritarian habits and uses of power into democratic ones. My study argues that what matters the most is what the law can reach only partially: discretionary power. Authoritarian practices of policing erode current democracies. Two decades after the "third wave" of democratization2 reached its peak, the rise of crime, violence, and police practices, not the military, undermine democracies from the inside (Neild, 1999, 2003; Holston, 1998). Most new democracies have mixed and hybrid features. They oscillate between electoral democracies and competitive forms of authoritarianism (Diamond, 2002; Karl, 1995; Collier and Levitsky, 1997). Hybridity seemed natural at the beginning of the transitions. But it also permeates the second transitionŽ to democracy that was meant to extend democratic practices throughout society. Although in some cases democratization seems to have reached a stalemate or even to reverse (Schmitter and Karl, 1991; Diamond, 1997, 2003), hybridity may be just a feature of the democratization process. Democracy emerges in parts,Ž and varies across territory within the national state,Ž says Diamond (1997, p. 19). Frequently, democracy covers just sub-national units and territories within a city. It permanently faces reversal. Amidst all these changes, Otwin Marenin (1996) notices, police organizations have a major role in (re)producing social order. 2 ODonnell and Schmitter (1986, p. 8) define democratization as the Process whereby the rules and procedures of citizenship are either applied to political in stitutions previously governed by other principlesƒ or expanded to include persons not previ ously enjoying such rights and obligationsƒ or extended to cover issu es and institutions not previou sly subject to citizen participation.Ž


7 Policing, the political, and the government of the city recognize common genealogical roots. If one identifies the preservation of order as the quintessential function of government,Ž as Bayley (1985, p. 5) does, and agrees with Peter Andreas (2000, p. 5) that the lawmaking and law-enforcing authority of the stateŽ defines the bedrock of sovereignty,Ž then one must also find with them perplexingŽ or puzzlingŽ the disregard for policing among political scientists. Even though the intimate bonds between policing and government were obvious for philosophers and administrators two centuries ago, this link has been (conceptually) lost in contemporary political science. Journals in the profession confirm this: whereas the American Journal of Political Science offers only four entries for policeŽ since 1973, during the period from 1906 to the present the American Political Science Review offers five, of which only three are journal articles. Political scientists have only recently begun to occupy ourselves with policing. Still, predominant approaches to policing are mostly juridical, technical, or human rights oriented while disregarding the specifically political aspects involved in policing. But no one governs us as police officers do. If Max Weber3distinguishes the state from other forms of political associations for its successful claim over the monopoly of legitimate force within a territory, the police are the domestic specialists in the exercise 3 In his lecture Politics as a Vo cationŽ (1918), Max Weber de fines the state as a human community that (successfully) claims the monopoly of the legitimate use of physical force within a given territory.Ž A specific form of political association, the state shares its ends with other pre-existent political forms. Weber suggests that it is in its means instead of in its end s that we must find the specificity of the state. And what he finds is specific to the state is th e use of force, more precisely the m onopoly of the use of legitimate force. Anthony Giddens (1999, p. 246) elaborates on Webers insight. He notices that Violence and the state, as rightist thinkers have always tended to emphasize, are closely connected; the state is the prime vehicle of war. In respect to thei r deployment of violence, however, pre-modern states differed in a basic way from nation-states. In th e pre-modern state, the po litical centre was never able to sustain a full monopoly over the means of violence. Brigandage, band itry, piracy and blood-feuds were always common, and in most states local warlords retained a good deal of independent military power.Ž


8 of legitimate forceŽ (Reiner, 1992, p. 62). Egon Bittner (1975, p. 37) highlights the essentially unrestrictedŽ character of the police prerogative to use force.4 The police embody state force and can use it to take our liberties, citizenship, or even life away. The discretionary powers involved in policing epitomize sovereign power. Police discretion is the best prism to see how both state sovereignty and state force are administered by individual police officers. In the perspective presented in this work, the police define the most concrete and extended state governing organ in modern society. Authoritative intervention and ordering done through policing are key dimensions of government. To be a state is fundamentally to police a territory and a group of people defined as its population, with policing entailing a comprehensive set of practices of global and individualized governance. It is fundamentally through the police that the state fully reaches the people. Police practices decisively shape main scenarios of our daily lives. They define the exact extension and manners in which people exercise their freedoms of speech, meeting, or association. Despite the ongoing shifts from police to policingŽ (Loader, 2000, p. 313) and from government to governmentality (Foucault, 1976; Burchell, Gordon, and Miller, 1991; Dean, 1999; Colebatch, 2002), the state and its police continue being central for the definition and maintenance of social order. Still, the current worldwide fragmentation and diversification of policing provisionŽ (Loader, p. 323) stands as a symptom of the decadence of the Westphalian model of nation states and its displacement by more 4 Bittner identifies only three customary limitations to the use of force by the police: first, there are legal limits to the use of deadly force; second, police officers are expected to use force only in pursuing their professional duties, not in their personal interest; third, force must be used in good faith and for justified reasons. These restrictions, however, seem at least vague.


9 nuanced and diversified principles of governanceŽ (Shearing and Wood, 2003, p. 401). David H. Bayley and Clifford D. Shearing describe the process as a multilateralization in the governance of securityŽ (2001, p. 5). Together with Michael Kempa, Shearing goes further and argues that the state monopoly of force and governance was nowhere fully accomplished, but that the state always coexisted with non-state nodesŽ (2002, p. 27). But even if this is the case, both policing and governing involve similar tasks of administration of life performed in different scales. Together with the executive, the legislative, and the judicial powers in liberal democracies, those invested with police power interpret laws and cases, (re)create their own rules, pass judgment, make decisions, and execute the sentence on the spot. However, liberal democracies do not (at least explicitly) recognize these prerogatives to police power. As far as the exercise of judgment is concerned, the liberal state acknowledges its limited exercise to members of the three republican powers, especially to those in charge of the judiciary. My study discusses the role of police discretionary judgment in the government. I approach police discretion as a sovereign exercise, which opens a still more problematic terrain, for the modern republican tradition arose as a reaction against it. It is my contention, however, that both power to judge and sovereign power are concentrated in the discretionary power of the police. How can we democratize a type of power that we barely understand? Studies of democratization tend to conceive of policing as mere law enforcement and to treat the police as little brothersŽ of the military. These representations miss the core of police power and the governing role of administrative and police apparatuses. They result in legalistic projects of police reform and formal mechanisms of accountability that are


10 insufficient to make the police accountable and democratic. The present study sees these representations as epistemological obstacles (Bachelard, 1938) that prevent students of democratization from gaining a better understanding of what is at stake in the democratization of policing. Across nations, regions, and localities, police forces differ in armament, role, mechanisms of accountability, relations with the rest of the criminal justice system, cooperation by the public, morale, use of force, incidence of misbehavior, and scale of organizationŽ (Bayley, 1977b, p. 219). But in spite of the diversity of police arrangements, forms of organization and structure, discretion appears as a key feature that unifies all of them. This common feature makes practices of policing comparable across space and time. Shearing identifies three main dimensions of policing: it constitutes an embodiment of state governance, an organization within the state apparatus, and a dimension of work on the streets. At all three levels,Ž he says, the police have power and discretionŽ (qtd. in Marenin, 1998, p. 165). Accordingly, my study approaches discretionary power as the core of the governing power embedded in policing. Police discretion constitutes a substantive practice of governance. The core character of police discretion suggests that the democratization of policing coincides with the democratization of the police discretionary power and that the latter appears as a necessary step to further democratization. It is my contention that the discretionary judgment that police officers exercise in the interstices of the law and the decisions they make ultimately determine the authoritarian or democratic character of power in society. Unless the ways of using this power change in a democratic direction, democratic laws will not reach the people.


11 My study argues that the performance of discretionary judgment by police officers, especially visible in citizen-police encounters, defines an exercise of sovereign power. Police power seems to arise from a recreation, not mere delegation, of the power to govern. On this ground, I suggest that the study of discretionary judgment could benefit from the long tradition of scholarship on phron sis or prudentia in political theory, since the challenge for those invested with sovereign power, now and then, seems to be the same: to judge wisely. Leslie Paul Thiele (2000, p. 587) compares learning judgment with learning to speak. The same way that in our first years we learn to speak by being exposed to speech,Ž he says, we learn to judge by being exposed to an environment that challenges us to make judgments on an ongoing basis and provides opportunities for correction.Ž Trial and error is a main form of learning how to judge. But Thiele also highlights the role of narratives in conveying for us the good and bad judgments of others.Ž Both fictional and non fictional, stories allow us to learn from the experience of others.5 This insight has roots in the tradition of prudentia developed by Cicero, which assigns rhetoric a role in the transmission of good judgment. Elaborating on these ideas, I argue that stories inform the exercise of discretionary judgment of those in charge of policing. My study, however, has nothing to say about judgment as a human faculty. Neither the Kantian nor the Arendtian approaches to judgment inform my work. I see no reason to assume that the exercise of judgment by those in charge of policing is any different from judgment exercised by humans in general. I do not echo the empirics of judgment as studied by psychologists or students of decision-making either. Instead, my concern is 5 History, biography, mythology, m odern fiction, and as SheldonWolin suggested, the epic narratives of political theory are all sources of su ch learning. Worldly exp erience and exposure to narratives do not guarantee the development of good judgmentŽ (Thiele, 2000, p. 587).


12 with forms of perceiving and representing the world and with principles, tropes, and rules that circulate embedded in narratives. The reason, I argue, is that both images and stories inform the exercise of discretionary judgment. Research Problem The democratization of policing involves more than subjecting the police to the judiciaryŽ that most of the scholarship on democratization suggests. The bulk of the power that the police exercise over our bodies arises from the occasions that the law opens up for their discretionary judgment. Police discretion eludes formal regulation. It occurs in the gray zones defined by the interstices of the law. Invested at once with legislative, judicial, and executive powers, police discretion exposes the governing aspects entailed in policing. What kind of power is involved in policing? What should the word democratic add to practices of policing? Can police discretion and state force be given democratic uses? Can those in charge of policing learn to make themselves democrats? How can practices of policing embed a democratic rule of law and use the law in democratic ways? To answer to these questions my study resorts to a comparative approach and to qualitative interview data with police officers. It fo cuses on police narratives drawn from interviews with police officers in Argentina, Uruguay, the Philippines, and the United Kingdom. But I also explore the subject of policing through historical and theoretical sources. The liberal state presents its police as a victory against the police of absolutism. Whereas I share liberal concerns with the dangers of unbound power, I do not subscribe to either its arguments or its solutions. Instead, the empirical and theoretical research that grounds my study gives support to the thesis developed by Mark Neocleous (2000) on the continuity between Polizei , the absolutist police state, and the modern police. On this


13 basis, I reexamine police power through the lenses of classical concepts such as sovereign power and political judgment. Besides disputing the hegemonic image of the police, I question the liberal understanding of law. Democratizing policing requires a thicker understanding of the rule of law that includes practices and the unwritten lawsŽ accompanying the written ones. Along these lines, I propose to recuperate an Aristotelian understanding of the rule of law against John Lockes. My study presents policing as the core of police power and as a major dimension of government that involves practical judgment, discretion, choice, and sovereign power. It argues that independently of organizational forms and obstacles, the key to transform practices of policing lies in the use of discretion. It highlights the role of narratives, tropes, and stories in shaping the use of discretionary power and poses the main challenge as to instill stories and images that promote egalitarian uses of power and respect for the law into the minds of those in charge of policing. Since stories shape perception, situations, and uses of discretion, my study explores police narratives and other narratives on policing to recuperate concepts and tropes that contribute to imagine democratic forms of policing beyond the reified image of professionalized police forces. Overall, it approaches democracy as a series of practices that entail horizontal and egalitarian relations of power drawn on intersubjective recognition. My study does three things. It characterizes the kind of power and activities involved in the exercise of police discretion. It poses the need to democratize unregulated practices as decisive for the future and depth of democracy. It argues that narratives are key to democratizing the power not regulated by law and that the decisive, hegemonic, battles for the democratization of power are fought through narratives.


14 My work makes a distinctive contribution by arguing that the core question of the democratization of policing lies in democratizing uses of police discretion. It maintains that discretionary practices are regulated through narratives, and explores police narratives and tropes to assess their differential effects on practices of policing. It also contributes to place the police in the perspective of policing and situates both within the horizon of democratization. It recuperates historical and theoretical narratives on policing to question the current reification of policing to the police. It appeals to these narratives to perceive, imagine, and engage with power differently. It puts together philosophical and pragmatic narrative strands, showing parallels and idiosyncratic tropes. It ends by discussing the challenges of building a democratic order that advances over the democratization of policing. In this discussion, I place historical and theoretical accounts in equal foot with the voices of police officers. My study seeks to contribute to shift the debate toward the use of more illuminating categories to discuss and intervene over policing and democratization. The latter requires revisiting the concept of policing from theoretical, historical, and everyday perspectives. Following scholarship that sees policing as an expression of sovereign power (Agamben, 1991, 1998) and governance (Foucault, 1976, 1978, 1978-1979, 1979; Shearing, 1996), my study argues that we cannot eliminate discretion. The challenge instead is to democratize its exercise. Methods Narratives define the forms through which people imagine their world and react to it. They also authorize and legitimize certain forms of being and acting. Stories lie at the foundation of the social and the political. All moral communities,Ž Thiele (1999, p. 8) notices, ground themselves in narratives whose plots and characters valorize certain


15 relationships and actions while depreciating others.Ž Narratives shape practices, practices reproduce narratives, and both together define the social world. Worldviews, principles, and rules embedded in narratives influence our possibilities for perception, judgment, and behavior. The ultimate political battles that define the worth of our lives and our belonging or exclusion from the human realm involve recognition and take place in the sphere of representation, as Jacques Rancière and Giorgio Agamben have exposed in their work.6These narratives circulate both locally and globally. Narratives shape action, and forms of action embed narrative. As Charles Taylor (2002, p. 107) puts it, The relation between practices and the background understanding behind them is therefore not one-sided. If the understanding makes the practice possible, it is also true that the practice largely carries the understanding. At any given time, we can speak of the "repertory" of collective actions at the disposal of a given sector of society. From the perspective opened by interpretive, hermeneutical approaches in the social sciences, narratives constitute and transmit practical programs. Gaining knowledge on the dominant stories that inform the life of a group may serve to predict the options faced by the individual members of the group. Moreover, when we take into account the long-lasting effects of myths, symbols, stories, and mores, distinctions between symbolic and material aspects of social practices lose significance. As Ernesto Laclau and Chantal Mouffe (1985, p. 110) put it, figures of speech such as synonymy, metonymy, metaphorŽ appear as the primary terrain itself in which the social is constituted.Ž This is 6 In Homo Sacer (1995), Agamben exposes the ontological hierarchy embedded in Aristotles Politics as a major source of differentiation between human and subhuman forms of life. Agamben argues that the distinction between bios, the life of the citizen, and mere life, or life th at constitutes a solely biological fact and to which no ju ridical or political rights are attached, still lies behind the exclusionary politics of the West (p. 6). In On the Shores of Politics (1995), Rancier e presents a similar argument based on Aristotles recognition of speech only to the members of the Polis. I discuss these ideas in chapter 4.


16 especially true in regards of the governing and discretionary power of the police. Donatella Della Porta, Olivier Fillieule, and Herbert Reiter agree that the social construction of the external reality is all the more important for a bureaucracy that, like the police, has a high level of discretionary powerŽ (1998, p. 128). Police discretionary power, uniquely defined by the prerogative to use force, provides police officers with the power to define the world in which they operate,Ž say the authors (p. 128). My study agrees. Along these lines, Shearing and Ericson (1991) discuss the role of stories and tropes in shaping perceptions and representations of police officers. Stories, they say, express the lessons concentrated in aphorisms through concrete images that provide for a poetic apprehension of the way of seeing and sensibility required for the practice of police work without ever presenting this knowledge in discursive form in the way rules doŽ (p. 497). Through the poetic form of tropes, values and principles of action are transmitted among those who become socialized as members of the police. Narratives communicate experience and prudentia l principles as much as dogmatic and dehumanizing forms of violence. Rancière (2000) captures the relevance of the symbolic dimension of life for the possibilities of democracy. To him, democracy is more than a form of political regime or a lifestyle. It amounts to a specific mode of symbolic structuring of the individual living in commonŽ (p. 12) that presupposes reciprocal recognition between all participants. Rancière addresses the democratic potential of both literary and political narratives for how they allow the constitution of plural identities that recognize each other as equals. From this perspective, turning policing into a democratic


17 practice challenges us with identifying tropes and stories that promote forms of perception, judgment, and action consistent with the exercise of democratic citizenship. My study inscribes itself within the hermeneutic turn in political science assessed by Molly Patterson and Kristen Renwick Monroe (1998). It follows previous insight on the value of culture in the achievement of democratization. As if echoing Guillermo ODonnells earlier work (1983), recent studies linking culture and democratization, such as Leslie E. Andersons (2002) and Ruth Stanleys (2002, 2005), have also chosen Argentina as a case study for its heavy authoritarian legacies. I argue that, as action in general, police discretion is shaped through tropes and narratives. Different narratives promote different uses of police discretion. Drawing on both classical works of political theory and current research on practices of policing, I propose to see uses of discretion as ultimately regulated internally through narratives. In my study, the notion of narrative includes both the stories that those in charge of policing tell about society and power as well as the tropes that retrieve those stories. This dissertation also draws on Michel Foucault and Timothy Mitchells studies of the relationships between practices and representation. It follows insights such as Laclau and Mouffes on the constitutive role of tropes in the definition of imaginaries and practices. It resorts to diverse concepts and methodological tools to examine narrative elements drawn from interviews with police officers. Placed in a dialogue with master narratives of Western political theory, the dissertation seeks to recuperate some subjugated knowledgeŽ (Foucault) about policing and to identify stories and tropes that promote democratic practices.


18 Empirical data supporting this study consist of the transcripts of interviews and notes obtained in Argentina, Uruguay, the United States, and the Philippines during 2003. The generosity of both Dr. Ian Loader and the UK Data Archive (Economic and Social Data Service, ESDS) at the University of Essex made possible the access to a set of interviews (SN 4594) held by Dr. Loader between 1997 and 1999 for his project Cultural Change and Structures of Feeling in Post-War England.Ž Voices of police officers from Argentina, Uruguay, the Philippines, the United States, and the United Kingdom are explored in search for the stories on policing, society, and police power that inspire their uses of police discretion. The focus or unit of analysis is not individuals but the stories that they tell and the tropes that appear in their narrative s. As an interpretive, qualitative study, the goal is, paraphrasing Magalí Sarfatti Larson and Silvia Sigal (2001), how police officers see social reality, not how many of them see it in what ways. An ulterior step would require assessing the extension of different tropes among those in charge of policing different societies. The research design supporting this dissertation is both exploratory and descriptive. The fieldwork takes inspiration from Anselm Glaser and Jacob Strauss concept of theoretical sampleŽ (1967) consistent in the selection of the most diverse cases until the collection of data becomes saturated.Ž The choice of countries of origin of the interviewees combines the principles of the Most Similar and Most Different System Design in comparative politics, developed after John Stuart Mills methods of difference and agreement (Landman, 2000, pp. 27-32). All these societies are defined as democratic by the Freedom House (1999). None of them has yet overcome the persistence of authoritarian patterns of policing. However, the distance that separates British society


19 from the others is vital. Degrees of democratization matter, especially in relation to policing, for it is clearly not the same having to cope mostly with cases of police abuse, corruption, violence, and killings, than with the reinforcement of subtle forms of exclusion of women, the poor, or members of certain ethnic groups. Still, to a different extent and in different ways, all these practices undermine and corrode democratization. Geography, language, and cultural influences place the Philippines in the antipodes of Argentina and Uruguay. But the geographical, historical, and cultural similarities between Argentina and Uruguay cannot account for the apparent differences with respect to their respective degree of democratization of the police. In particular, Argentinean and Uruguayan police officers different forms of constructing their own relation with the authoritarian past and the democratic present appear puzzling. Overall, important parallels and similar tropes appear between the police narratives collected in the interviews. This can be attributed either to the global circulation of doctrines of policing (Wacquant, 2000; Chevigny, 2001; Amar and Schneider, 2003), literature, expertise, and stories, or to their parallel emergence under similar working conditions (Brown, 1981; Chan, 1996; Waddington, 1999). Details about the number, date, location, and context of the interviews are found in the Appendix, as well as a discussion of the comparative data drawn from the UK. Plan of the Study The structure of the work is as follows: Chapter 2 presents an overview of the literature on policing and democratization, scrutinizes the canon of comparative politics for references of policing, and develops a critique of the dominant understanding of concepts such as the rule of law and the police. The argument questions the hegemonic, liberal, notion of power, the rule of law, and its representation of the police. The


20 insufficiencies of dominant representations justify the need to revisit the canon of political theory in search fo r alternative concepts to account for policing and democratization. I propose to recuperate the original Aristotelian definition of the rule of law, which seems to me better suited to the subtleties of power and the endeavor of democratizing it. Chapter 3 explores the emergence and development of different patterns of policing. Elaborating on historical and anthropological sources, the chapter advances a classification of practices of policing into three main types with sub variants. Citizen selfpolicing, clientelistic forms of policing„including properly clientelistic and commodified forms of policing„and state policing organize a basic categorization. Whereas modernity coincides with the prevalence of the nation-state and forms of state centered police, the other modalities have survived on the margins and are currently gaining strength. Chapter 4 interrogates the place of the police and policing in relation to both the government and the political in the canon of Western political theory starting with Plato and Aristotle. It alternatively explores pre-modern, modern, and post-modern references to policing, and recuperates different forms of understanding and imagining order and policing that may serve as inspiration for us in the present. Chapter 5 seeks to find out narrative elem ents that favor the constitution and maintenance of a democratic order. It assesses and compares police narratives on policing and power and identifies themes and tropes for their authoritarian, democratic, or ambiguous potential. To this end, the chapter advances on the analysis of narratives on police discretion drawn from interviews held with Argentinean, Uruguayan, Filipino, and British police officers.


21 Chapter 6 presents the core theoretical claim of the present study, which proposes to see the discretionary power embedded in policing as sovereign power articulated as an exercise of practical judgment. The performance of police discretion arises from concrete situations that call for at once perceptual, moral, and political forms of judgment. I propose that discretionary judgment constitutes a performance of sovereign power. The chapter advances an argument on how narratives and tropes inform the exercise of discretionary judgment by those in charge of policing and proposes to approach the analysis of discretionary power by the police along the lines of the tradition of scholarship on phron sis and prudentia. Unveiling the bonds between police discretion, sovereign power, practical judgment, and the role of narratives in their exercise, the argument proposes to treat police discretion in the same manner than executive power and governance in general. The emphasis on discretion exposes the dangers involved in policing and seeks forms of regulating such power. The work concludes with the identification of major themes, problems, and dilemmas emerging from the dissertation.


22 CHAPTER 2 THE LITERATURE ON DEMOCRATIZATION: A PUZZLING OVERLOOK OF POLICING We all witness a paradox: democracy seems to extend at the same pace that it loses density. Pockets of authoritarianism spread through new democracies and reach the outskirts of the established ones. An uneven spread of the rule of law, citizen rights, and liberties is favored by the judiciary and the polices sorry state across most of the developing worldŽ (Neild, 2003, p. 279) and actively supported by authoritarian forms of policing. The toll that these practices take on democracy is not immediately obvious as it would be for example with a regime change. It is difficult to argue, and even more difficult to prove, that authoritarian practices of policing lead to abrupt changes in the political regime. Yet, as the trends referred in the next pages suggest, they continuously erode and undermine democracy even after a regular electoral calendar is in place. Deepening democratization calls for democratizing policing, yet the meaning of this expression is not clear or univocal. The police are mostly absent from canonical studies of comparative politics and democratization. This absence seems astonishing in works that focus on the problem of order such as Samuel Huntington's (1968). Most studies linking policing and democratization (i.e., the literature on democratic transitions) treat the police the same way that they treat the military, or as the militarys little brothers.Ž Especially in Latin America, it is as if the military concentrated everybodys attention while the police are disregarded or assimilated to it. The police tend to be depicted as automatons (Goldstein,


23 1990, p. 27). As Mark Shaw (2002, 2002b) suggests, entrenched perceptions of the police as poor cousinsŽ of the military and the dismissal of the weight that the police have in the transition lie behind this overlook. Other studies subject the police not to the military but to the judiciary along the lines established by the 19th centurys liberal state, which at least in the imaginary contributed to reduce the polices functions to fighting crime and maintaining order in the streets. Discussions on the police from this perspective appear in debates on the judiciary and the rule of law. This chapter questions these accounts. Even though the subject of policing has gained some currency among students of democratization in the last decade, dominant perspectives in the field tend to reduce the democratization of policing to subjecting the police to civilian controlŽ and to assume the existence of unproblematic, normal,Ž patterns of policing in developed democracies. Their formal and legalistic views of policing seem to me inadequate to apprehend the role of the police in the government and to understand police power, thus occluding our possibilities of democratizing policing. Police power has specific traits that cannot be reduced either to military or judicial affairs. Research done in the field of police studies (Wright and Miller, 1998) during the last fifty years shows the pervasive influence of policing in governing society (Wesley, 1953; Goldstein, 1963, 1990; Davis, 1970-1971; Manning, 1977; Bittner, 1990; Walker, 2002; Bayley, 1975, 1977, 1985, 1995; Shearing, 1996). Two main traditions from this field influence the present work, the literature on police discretion and studies of police culture.


24 The limitations of comparative politics to account for the power involved in policing also lead my study to revisit the tradition of political theory in search of a fuller understanding of police power. Overall, my study draws on Michel Foucaults insights on police and state power, governmentality, and liberalism. Thinking and advancing toward the democratization of policing requires a more nuanced understanding of the rule of law than the one offered by liberalism. My study proposes to recuperate one drawn from Aristotle (1943, 1984). This chapter presents a critical overview of policing and democratization in the literature and discusses the limitations of the dominant understanding of the rule of law. It argues that this general overlook has conceptual roots in the dominant understanding of government, the law, and the police drawn from the liberal, Lockean, tradition. After this inspiration, political scientists tend to assimilate the government to elective positions, to make the power embedded in administrative and police apparatuses of the state invisible, and to conceive of the bureaucracy and the police as mere, neutral, apolitical, instruments of the government. In these accounts, both the bureaucracy and the police are elided. If the conceptual frameworks that we use determine our possibilities of understanding and transforming reality, this chapter judges these views an epistemological obstacleŽ (Bachelard, 1938) that prevent political scientists from acknowledging the governing aspects involved in policing. The chapter is organized as follows: The first section accounts for the sorry stateŽ (Neild, 1999, 2003) of policing in new democracies and the outskirts of the established ones. The second section reviews and discusses the contribution of canonical comparative studies of democratization to the understanding of policing. It explores references to


25 policing in the works of scholars such as Gabriel Almond, Sydney Verba, Samuel P. Huntington, Barrington Moore, Theda Skocpol, Mancur Olson, Charles Tilly, Samuel L. Popkin, and James C. Scott. Section 3 discusses references to policing and police reform in the literature on democratization of recent years, questions the adequacy of the dominant understanding of the rule of law, and revisits the classical, Aristotelian, understanding of the rule of law. Section 4 focuses on democracy and democratic policing, characterizes them along the liberal and the radical democratic tradition, and identifies traits that serve to characterize policing as more or less democratic. With an at once theoretical and practical focus, the chapter ends by presenting the links between practices, narratives, and tropes. Lawlessly Democratic Students of democratization, peace, and human rights, tend to believe that democracies are unlike to use violence, either against their own citizenry or other countries.1 Somehow, pacification seems to form part of the definition of democracy. Thus, among the key characteristics that permit to define a regime as a consolidated democracy, Juan Linz and Albert Stepan (1996b, p. 6) include the trend for governmental and nongovernmental forces alikeŽ to subject themselves to the resolution of conflict within the specific laws, procedure and institutions sanctioned by 1 With books such as Power Kills (1997), the work of Rudolph J. Rummel constitutes a major reference in support of this perspective. Among historians, th e research of Jukka Kekkonen and Heikki Ylikanga highlights the connection between the form of governmental rule„above all the degree of democratic participation„and social contro l. According to these researchers, a more even distribution of the resources of a community (manifested in po litical power) leads to moderation of the control over individuals, while a concentration of resources leads, among other things, to the exact opposite. For example, the growth of absolute sovereignty was followed by a tightening of the penal system and other forms of social control, while the process of democratization entailed the oppos iteŽ (Sundin, 1996, p. 178). These views have also been associated with the work of Norbert Elias on the civilizing character of Western civilization. Among political scientists supporting the relation between democracy an d pacification, Davenport mentions Robert Dahl, Ted Gurr, and Charles Tilly. Sab ine C. Zangers statistical analysis also supports this view. For a critique of the thesis on the pacifying role of democraci es in the international arena, se e Ido Oren (1995).


26 the new democratic process.Ž If internal pacification is generally associated with democracy, the association extends in general to the expansion of the nation state. Anthony Giddens (1999, p. 247) presents the thesis in an exemplary way: As a result of a number of factors, including particularly improved communications and an intensifying of surveillance mechanisms, nation-states became sovereign powers: the agency of government was able to achieve much greater administrative control over its subject populations than ever before. To cut a long story very short, and to use a good deal of oversimplification, the result was a pervasive process of internal pacification, achieved in most classical nationstates„those developing from the eighteenth century onwards in Europe and the United States. (ƒ) Pacificationƒrefers, in this context at any rate, to the more or less successful monopoly of the means of violence on the part of the political authorities within the state. (ƒ) The convergent development of capitalism and parliamentary democracy, together with systems of centralized law, played a major role in extruding violence from the immediate mechanisms of government. Although processes of internal pacification have proved much harder to achieve in state-nations and ex-colonia societies than in the classical nation-state, they have almost everywhere proceeded far compared with the pre-modern state. Recent studies prove this widespread assumption wrong, or at least only partially valid. This is for example the case of conflicted democracies,Ž2which Fionnuala Aoláin and Colm Campbell (2005) discuss with a special focus on the peace process in Northern Ireland. Even though open forms of violence arise more clearly in new democracies, police abuse, discrimination, and violence are not absent from secular democratic settings. Police violence defines indeed a clear pattern of violation of human rights and systemic violence in current democracies (Chevigny, 1995; Huggins, 2000; Das, 2000; Lemos-Nelson, 2001). The use of excessive force in citizen-police encounters and the victimization of individuals while in custody constitute the two salient modalities of police violence worldwide. Evidence on deaths and structural episodes of violence 2 Aoláin and Campbell define "conflicted democracy" as a s ituation in which, under conditions of having at least a procedural form of democracy, there is a deep seat ed and sharp division in the body politic, whether on ethnic, racial, religious, class, or ideological ground sŽ (p. 176). Besides, the conflict must be so acute, and the political circum stances such as to have resulted in or threaten significant political violenceŽ (p. 176).


27 gathered from established democracies questions the pacification argument (Davenport, 2000; Hodgson, 2001; Foweraker and Krznaric, 2003). This section gathers comparative evidence showing the pervasiveness of police abuse and violence throughout the world. Most new democracies face threats arising from both growing rates of violent crime and violent police practices aimed at maintaining order (Chevigny, 1995; Huggins, 1991, 2000; Shaw, 2002; Goldsmith, 2003; Oliveira and Tiscornia, 1997; Caldeira and Holston, 1999). Recent research and debates in Latin America, Eastern Europe, and South Africa expose generalized concerns about the poor performance of the administration of the law by both the police and the judiciary. Failing in their role as guardians of public order and protectors of the fundamental rights of all citizens,Ž those democracies without citizenshipŽ offer disquieting signs for democracys fate (Pinheiro, 1996, pp. 17-8). Their corrupt and abusive practices foster skyrocketing feelings of insecurity, undermine the civil aspects of citizenship, corrode trust, and lay the groundwork for hybrid combinations of authoritarian practices with democratic institutions (Caldeira and Holston, 1999; Pinheiro, 1996; Diamond, 2002; O'Donnell, 1994; Collier and Levitsky, 2000; Neild, 2005). Whereas at the beginning of the democratic process these features appeared as a remnant of authoritarianism, studies developed in the last decade ( i.e., Caldeira and Holston) concur that they lie in the nature of these democracies themselves. Most third waveŽ democracies exhibit similar c onditions, as the existence of regular elections and democratic laws and institutions has not resulted in the extension of a democratic rule of law.


28 G. Bingham Powell compared democratic regimes for their capacity to maintain public order. He used the number of political conflicts and deaths as indicators of the lack of order (qtd. in Liphjart, p. 67). Most studies like his make apparent the contrasts between established and new democracies. However, if one disaggregates the coercive resources of the state, most of them administered by the police, the panorama looks more complex. Along these lines, Christian Davenport (2000) tests the hypothesis that democracy generates internal pacification. By examining 137 countries between 1976 and 1996 (p. 552), Davenport discriminates between forms of state-sponsored restriction and killingŽ (p. 556). On one of the extremes, he identifies cases where states engage in murdering a part of their citizens. On the other extreme, he considers cases where governments tame this behavior (decreasing violence but not restrictions).Ž His findings support the pacificationŽ thesis only partially. Democracy weakens the prospect for massive killings or state terror policies only when democratic institutions effectively check executive discretion. But democratization has no influence whatsoever on violent repressionŽ (p. 552). Davenport also finds cases, such as the Philippines during the 1980s, where a democratic regime does not raise political restrictionsŽ but political killing was extensiveŽ (p. 556). Cases like this suggest the author the existence of a problem that is proper to democracy: Democracy can reduce both restrictions and killing but if one dimension is increased, it would likely to be the more violent one. In contrast, some combination of restriction and killing was generally applied when executive constraints were being developed (i.e., during democratization). Joe Foweraker and Roman Krznaric (2003) show analogous findings in three established democracies, the United States, the United Kingdom, and Australia. Whereas their overall democratic performance seems outstanding, a comparison between these


29 cases and new democracies along less visible features like the judiciary and criminal justice systemŽ reduces the distance between them (p. 334). Mistreatment of ethnic or religious minorities by the justice system and the police expose the facets in which established democracies perform poorly. In sum, research shows that forms of police violence extend in varying degrees in all types of democracies: the emerging, established and mixedŽ (Das, 1997, n p.). Mostly targeting the poor and ranging from harassment, massive detentions for profiling, use of torture in interrogations, or extra-legal executions, police violence stains new democracies such as South Africa, Russia, Brazil, or Argentina while darkening the outskirts of the established ones (Chevigny, 1995; Huggins, 1998, 2000; Wacquant, 1998, 2000, 2001; McArdle & Erzen, 2001; Arriagada, 2001; Pinheiro, 1997; Yusufi, 2002; Amnesty International, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005; Human Rights Watch, 1997, 1998a, 1998b, 2005).34Martha Huggins and MacTurk (2001) notice that whereas in Latin America until the 1980s the military was the institution responsible for most human rights abuses,Ž these days according to the Organization of American States, the most abusive institution is the civilian police.Ž Just in the state of Sao Paulo, Brazil, alone in 1992 the police killed 1,458 civilians, 1.451 of whom were murdered by the military police. If the numbers decreased to 466 civilians in 1996, there were 525 killings in 1998 and 664 in 1999 (Human Rights Watch, 1997). Between 1996 and 2000, 18,288 complaints were 3 Democracy might have an effect, therefore, but this depends upon what challengers within the state are doing and how authorities have decided to respond to them in the past. (Davenport, p. 553). 4 In Argentina, a country with a relativ ely low crime rate and the region's highest levels of per capita income and schooling, po lice killings are endemic. In 35 percen t of murders in the Buenos Aires area over the last five years, the perpetrators were police officers. During the first half of 1999 , they killed 140 people, according to New York-based Human Rights WatchŽ (Huggins and MacTurk).


30 filled against police officers for episodes of corruption, abuse, or torture (Moreno, 2002, p. 5). In Caracas, Venezuela, during 2000 the police was responsible of 170 killings (Ungar, 2003). In most cases, rather than upholding the rule of law, the police institutions frequently represent a major factor of insecurityŽ (Stanley, 2002). In Greater Buenos Aires, where it is not always possible to distinguish the police from common criminalsŽ (Kalmanowiecki, 2000, p. 48), the Center of Legal and Social Studies (CELS) keeps records of killings by the police. CELS accounts for 72% increase in killings between 1996 (152 civilians murdered) and 2001 (261 civilians murdered), with a peak of 280 in 1999 (2000, p. 141). Killings by the police amount to 8% of the total number of homicides in Rio, 10% in Sao Paulo, and 12% in Buenos Aires. In Argentina as a whole, CORREPI counts 1508 deaths in hands of the police produced since the restoration of democracy in 1983. As in previous years, also in 2005 Amnesty International reports cases of torture and ill-treatment by law enforcement and prison officersŽ in Argentina. Rio de Janeiro, Buenos Aires, Kampala and Pretoria shared in 1996 the unfortunate record in the number of episodes of the police breaking in private homes (Pinheiro, p. 18). If the scale varies, police abuse and violence are spread in North America (Hodgson, 2001). The 1990s showed a dramatic increase in killings of civilians by the police in New York, under the auspices of Quality of LifeŽ and Zero ToleranceŽ initiatives (McArdle, 2001, p. 10). In New York city, 23 civilians were murdered and 15 more died while in custody during 1993. These numbers rose to 31 and 23 the following year. Huggins and MacTurk estimate the number of killings by police forces in the United States in about four hundred every year. Between 1988 and 1998, complaints of


31 police brutality tripled, and the amount of money that the city had to pay as indemnification to the victims rose from $7 million in 1988 to more than $24 million in 1994, to $97 millionŽ after 1994 (Schneider and Amar, p. 12). Brutality and the third degree have been identified with the municipal police of the United States since their inauguration in 1844Ž„William A. Westley opened his pioneer article on police violence in 1953 (p. 34).5 With its population divided into racesŽ that mostly overlap with social class, the United St ates is especial insofar as different ethnic groups have different relationships with the police (Roberts, 1999). Whereas the wealthier whiteŽ sector of the population see themselves mostly as law-abiding citizens who hold their police forces in high esteem, African Americans, Latinos, Asian, Native Americans, and other groups are disproportionately victimized by police abuse and brutality as well as by the justice system (Wacquant, 2000; Downes, 2001; Feldman, 2001). Amnesty International reports many cases of police brutality, deaths in custody and ill-treatment of prisonersŽ and excessive use of force by law enforcement officials.Ž Elsewhere considered a form of torture, the use of electric devices to produce shocks, called Tasers,Ž is of common use among American police forces and produced nine deaths in 2003. Pepper spray is also commonly used by the police. The situation in the United Kingdom is not that different. Foweraker and Krznaric refer to the existence of killings by the police in the last decades as a result of a shoot-to-kill policy.Ž The authors mention that over 350 people, most of them Catholic, were killed by British security forces between 1969 and November 1993Ž (p. 329). Most victims were AfroCaribbean British citizens. These groups of citizens, as well as Romanies, are 5 Violence in the form of the club and the gun is for the police a means of persuasion,Ž says Westley (p. 35), whose research exposed the naturalization of the use of illegal forms of violence among police officers and opened up a field of sociological studies of police violence.


32 discriminated against, frequently harassed by the police, disproportionately imprisoned in relation to other groups, and treated much worse once in prison (p. 330). Besides the United States and Great Britain, countries such as Germany, Denmark, or Austria have also had their police involved in episodes of police abuse and violence (Can, p. 78; Das, 1997, n p.). Even though these countries do not make headlines for police violence, Das mentions that in Austria, for example, 130 cases of police violence were denounced in 1994. Whereas the British police have also been involved in cases of abuse and violence, the case of the UK permits us to explore a different stage of the game. For criticisms of police authoritarianism in the UK are backed with a long tradition of police reform and innovative experiences of citizen participation in the design, implementation, and control of police policy. The British police have been repeatedly and successfully reformed (see Appendix), decentralized, made accountable to the people, trained to embody community concerns, and exhibit a proud historical record of not carrying guns. Yet they are questioned for ignoring, and consequently helping to reproduce, the violence exercised against the most vulnerable. As Elizabeth Stanko (1998) puts it, the claims of certain women, children, victims of racist attacks, or victims of homophobic attacks,Ž have their claims for protection unheard by the police, who fail miserably in preventing individual acts of violence.Ž If more violent episodes do not take place, Stanko argues, is because of individuals themselves and networks of social supportŽ to which they resort. However, the police keep on claiming an expertise in protection that they do not possess. Furthermore, Stanko poses the question of whether innovations in contemporary


33 policing in order to be responsive to those defined as vulnerableŽ are genuine or respond to public criticisms toward the capacities of the police to maintain public order. As we can see, the arrival of democracy in the form of regular elections does not mean that authoritarian practices, state-sponsored cruelty, and repression have disappeared overnight. Instead, these practices have retreated into the police force. Their pervasiveness becomes evident in police practices toward the population, especially the poor, uneducated and economically marginalized. Furthermore, these trends do not necessarily disappear over time. Not open violence, but patronizing attitudes and the dismissal of the dangers faced by certain sector of the population are still predominant among British police officers. The question is whether more evenhanded practices can be brought also into the British police. Even though the number of cases of police abuse and violence in the UK is not comparable to the ones exhibited in new democracies such as Brazil, this review exposes the pervasiveness of authoritarian patterns of policing. Both in Brazil or the UK, discrimination and violence by the police undermine citizenship and erode the legitimacy and effectiveness of the political regime, too. What about the Major Works? Policing as an Indicator of Trust Policing is frequently used as an indicator of the quality of governance. The pioneers seem to have been Gabriel Almond and Sydney Verba, who in their seminal study of civic culture (1965) assessed peoples trust in the police. The latter served to deduce the feelings that people have towards governmental authoritiesƒfrom their expectations of how they will be treated by themŽ (p. 68). Respondents were presented with two hypothetical situations: first, they had to imagine themselves dealing with a government office. Second, they had to imagine having some minor trouble with the


34 police.Ž Almond and Verba asked a total of over 5,000 individuals in the United States, Germany, Great Britain, Italy, and Mexico: If you had some trouble with the police„a traffic violation maybe, or were accused of a minor offense„do you think you would be given equal treatment? That is, would you be treated as well as anyone else?Ž (p. 69). The percentage of respondents who said to expect fair treatment by the police was 85% in the United States, 89% in Great Britain, 72% in Germany, 56% in Italy, and 32% in Mexico (p. 70). Life-stories traced in some cases allowed the authors to confirm these trends. On the basis of this data, the authors suggested that in established democracies peoples trust in the police tends to coincide with their trust in the government (p. 71). After them, trust in the police has become an important indicator of citizen perceptions on the government. Drawing on that tradition, Robert Putnams (1993) study of civic traditions in Italy makes a brief reference to policing. Putnam retrieves data on law and order collected in a national survey in Italy during 1972 by Samuel H. Barnes and Giacomo Sani. The researchers elaborated a composite index to evaluate respondents support for stricter law and orderŽ (p. 112). They gave respondents the option to endorse the following statements: 1. The police should have greater power to defend the law. 2. The government doesnt do enough to assure public order. 3. In these days there is not enough respect for authority. 4. The police have too much power in Italy. (Disagree fully).Ž Respondents were grouped according to the number of statements that they supported. Putnam examines these results in light of his Index of Civic Community, which measures levels of interpersonal trust and civic engagement. As expected by him, the bulk of respondents who endorsed the four statements on law and order (60%) were those ranking low in his Civic Community Index. Only 37% of them belonged to the group


35 qualified by Putnam as high in terms of Civic Community (p. 112). The analysis confirms that demands for harsher police policies coincide with lack of social trust. But Putnam proposed peoples perceptions of the police as indicators of civic development and social capital. On the one hand, the police are used to assess the authority of the government. On the other hand, they constitute a major source of trust (or distrust) in a society. Using indexes like these, Putnam hypothesizes the existence of regional patterns of civic values that have endured for several hundred years. Elaborating on concepts cherished by Putnam such as social capital,Ž Bo Rothstein and Dietlind Stolle (2002) argue that through policing and the administration of justice the state lays the foundation for peoples feelings of safety or danger and interpersonal trust. However, the use of the concept of civic or democratic culture by Almond, Verba, Putnam, Inglehart, and others does not explain the pervasiveness of police abuse and violence targeting the poor within established democracies referred in the previous section. It simply turns the problem invisible. More or Less Repressive Class Alliances and the Role of Culture: Barrington Moore Through historical class-based comparative analysis, Barrington Moore (1966) identifies three main historical paths toward political modernization, of which only one produced relatively inclusive forms of democracy. These three routes to the modern worldŽ arise from different combinations of modes of production and forms of political regime. The first one is the route of bourgeois revolutionŽ that combined capitalism and parliamentary democracy after a series of revolutions: the Puritan Revolution, the French Revolution, and the American Civil WarŽ (p. 413). The second route fused capitalism with forms of revolution from above such as fascism. Examples of this route are Germany and Japan. The third path to modernity that Moore identifies adopts a


36 communist fashion, which the cases of both the Russian and Chinese revolution illustrate. Moore judges the appearance of a vigorous and independent class of town dwellersŽ a prerequisite for the emergence of parliamentary democracy, which he summarily indicates with the formula: No bourgeois, no democracyŽ (p. 418). But democracy also requires the transformation of peasants into industrial workers. Focusing on class alliances and their consequences for the emergence of political regimes, Moore does not address issues of policing. However, he does contribute to the understanding of how relations of production, the classes that emerge from them, and class alliances result in more or less repressive state apparatuses. Moore shows the benign influence of the middle classes in weakening state repressive apparatuses or overthrowing them. Through the book, Moore shows that in the most developed industrial areas such as England and the North of the United States the state developed weaker repressive features (p. 444). Furthermore, the influences of class alliances in the organization of the modern state apparatus tend to become structural as the bureaucratic bodies acquire autonomy. But there is more than class alliances in Moores work. His treatment of the role of culture and interpretation on the making of history brings insight to my study. Over the end of the book, Moore examines the images that serve as inspiration for revolutionary and reactionary movements. As he puts it, the making of a new societyŽ also results from conceptions of what a society ought to be or ought not to beŽ (p. 484). He points to the ways in which peoples wants, expectations, and other ideas derived from the pastŽ shape and filterŽ their percep tion of their historical coordinates. Moore calls these elements culture, which he sees screens out certain parts of the objective situation and emphasizes other partsŽ (p. 485). Moores analysis questions generalized


37 assumptions on the inertial or automatic reproduction and transmission of cultural traditions. Culture has no existence outside the individuals who share it, says Moore. Besides, cultural values and traditions have to be recreated anewŽ generation through generation. He forces us to confront the contingent, political, and frequently violent yet unavoidable nature of the transmission of culture: To maintain and transmit a value system, human beings are punched, bullied, sent to jail, thrown into concentration camps, cajoled, bribed, made into heroes, encouraged to read newspapers, stood up against a wall and shot, and sometimes even taught sociology (p. 486). Whereas Moore underlines the importance of the values and ideas available as key raw matter for people to make their history, he questions the scholarly tradition to detach peoples values from the way people reach itŽ (p. 487). Moore identifies a tradition of authoritarian and reactionary tropes that he takes back to the 3rd century BC with Cato the Elder (p. 491). By Catoism,Ž Moore refers to the pastoral tropes common to reactionary landed elites that for centuries have attempted to seduce peasants under their hegemony. Huntington’s Silences Samuel Huntington epitomizes most of the neglect and vices that my study questions to comparativists. In Political Order in Changing Societies , Huntington suggests that the shortage of political community and of effective, authoritative, legitimate governmentŽ is the cause of all other shortages that poorer societies face and originates gaps between the developed and the underdeveloped worlds (p. 2). He examines the dislocation and reconfiguration of order through processes of modernization. The forces of modernization throwŽ groups together without them


38 having defined political institutions that allow for their coexistence. Modernization generates domestic violence, he argues. Whereas more modern societies are generally more stable and suffer less domestic violenceŽ (p. 39), the transformations that bring peasant societies into modernity provoke instability and violence. It is not the absence of modernity but the efforts to achieve it which produce political disorderŽ says Huntington (p. 41). When groups become mobilized into politics without becoming socialized by politicsŽ (p. 83), he says, praetorianism, or widespread intervention in politics by the military, arises from the inexistence of authoritative and efficacious political institutions. He attributes the production of order to political institutions or the military. His work presents the achievement of (any kind of) order as a positive value in itself. With Hobbesian and Madisonian overtones, Huntington argues that if there can be order without liberty,Ž it is impossible to conceive of liberty without order.Ž In his view, authority has to exist before it can be limitedŽ (p. 8). Despite his deep realist insights on the analysis of power, his conception of order remains undefined, seems empty, and ignores the theoretical discussions on the concept, and operates as a catch-all synonym for stability. The same could not be said about Hobbes, for example, who thoroughly assesses the quality of different forms of political order according to his concept of sovereign power. Whereas Huntington (p.1) sees the provision of political order or degree of governmentŽ as the right criterion to judge political regimes, the type of order matters only secondarily to him. Only in the long run he defends political institutions versus praetorianism as a strategy to achieve order. Someone so disingenuously committed with democratic politics as Huntington can hardly contribute to think or advance the democratization of policing. For Huntington's


39 position exemplifies the legitimization of military and authoritarian rule by many political scientists in the context of the Cold War and theories of modernization. If he represents anything, it is the need for students of democratization to be honest about our democratic or authoritarian commitments. If weak as a theory, his concept of order also does not delve into practicalities. Astonishingly, Huntington manages to organize his book around the problem of order without ever focusing on policing or delving into the practices that bring order to society. He attributes the production of order to political institutions or the military. Impelled by economic and social change, he sees that modernization disrupts old patterns of authority and destroys traditional political institutionsŽ (p. 460). If political institutions do not adequately channel these changes, instead of development the result will be political instability and violence. Finally, Huntington decides to ignore the specificity of policing and the police. His examples and illustrations suggest that he subsumes the police to the military. With respect to the coercive aspects of the state, Huntington frequently mentions the military but never the police. Multiple references to citizen militias in the United States, to the role of the military in Latin America, and his identification of social and political functions include the military but never the police. In this respect, Huntington seems exemplary to illustrate the trend in comparative politics to treat the police as the little brothersŽ of the military. In The Crisis of Democracy , together with Crozier and Watanuki, Huntington openly opposes a pervasive spirit of democracyŽ and judges it a danger for the social bonds which hold together family, enterprise, and communityŽ (qtd. in Warren, p. 259).


40 The text presents democracy as a threat to authority, which is assimilated to inequality and hierarchy. Huntington is one of those who only a highly restrictive concept of democracy may include as one of its proponents. His commitment to democracy is minimal close to null, it just aims to provide the system with legitimacy, and can change into support for authoritarian rule if the circumstances seems to justify it. This scholarship constitutes indeed the Trojan horse within studies of democratization, and still awaits our settling up with it. Huntingtons silences on the police disclose his militarized understanding of policing. He confines his analysis of order to the highest political level instead of also delving in the microscopic grammar of order that would require the analysis of policing. In addition, more or less explicitly, his work conflates war making with order maintenance, in the best tradition of Cold Wa r national securityŽ doctrines. Despite these hypotheses on the absence of policing in his work, it is surprising that this author could make a name for himself discussing issues of order without ever analyzing policing or the police. Placing Policing at the Core of the State: Skocpol, Olson, and Tilly Policing acquired conceptual visibility in com parative politics as a result of the movement of return of the stateŽ (Lane, 1997). Questioning the previous tradition for taking the existence of the state for granted, Theda Skocpol (1979) sought to identify what states are in their own right, and how their structures vary and their activities develop in relation to socioeconomic structuresŽ (p. 28). Through her comparative analysis of revolutions, she presents states as organizations that control territories and peopleŽ according to an immanent and irreducible rationality.


41 With Skocpol, policing enters the definition of the state. She presents the state as a set of administrative, policing, and military organizations headed, and more or less well coordinated by, an executive authorityŽ (p. 29). States always face threats arising from competition with other actual or potential statesŽ (p. 30) in the form of antagonistic class alliances or other states in the international arena. Although state institutions generally ally the ruling classes, Skocpol sees such an alliance as contingent and arising from their common interest in maintaining order. States need to maintain order for their own survival. Differences between the state and the ruling classes appear when states make concessions to the subordinate sectors in order to preserve both order and their loyalty, even if this hinders the interests of the ruling classes. Skocpol shows classes and states competing against each other for resources. Furthermore, she sees states autonomy strengthened by the states involvement in an international network of statesŽ (p. 31). This Janus faced structureŽ of the state, or its need to deter and confront potential enemies from above and below, founds state autonomy (p. 31). Besides consent, a coherent and effectiveŽ administrative and coercive organization guarantees the preservation of the state (p. 32). From a perspective that overlaps with Skocpols, Charles Tilly (1985) examines different forms of state structuring resulting from particular national trajectories in Western Europe. Tilly argues that modern stat es and centralized markets emerged as a side effect of the dynamics of war making. In need to guarantee resources for their permanent fights, the most powerful gangs ended by organizing stable political units under rational bureaucratic basis (p. 172). Once kings and leaders gained strength, they disarmed lords and warlords and used the law to stabilize their monopoly of force.


42 Disarmament of local lords made entire territories vulnerable. Thus, states had to organize a bureaucratic apparatus with local representation. The ultimate outcome in Western Europe was the modern nation state, with its professionalized military and police forces. The more costly the activity, all other things being equal, the greater was the organization residueŽ (p. 181), Tilly argues. The dynamics accounted for by both Skocpol and Tilly lay behind the emergence of the state as the sole agent entitled to use force that corresponds to the Weberian definition. For Weber, the state distinguishes itself from other forms of political association because of its successful claim to the monopoly of force. As he puts it, at the present time, the right to use physical force is ascribed to other institutions or to individuals only to the extent to which the state permits it. The state is considered the sole source of the 'right' to use violenceŽ (Weber). Accordingly, Tilly describes the historical process through which over the end of the 18th century, through most of EuropeƒThe states monopoly of large-scale violence was turning from theory to realityŽ (1985, p.174). Tilly discovers the proximity between banditry, piracy, gangland rivalry, policing, and war makingŽ in the emergence of national states in Western Europe, especially on the growth of the French state from 1600 onwardsŽ (p. 170). Due to their equivalent functions of taxing people in exchange for protection against perceived (or imagined or generated by them) dangers, Tilly proposes to think of all these forms as a continuum. The parallels between stateness and organized crime evoke Augustine and Bodins problem of how to differentiate between a band of robbers and a state, which is addressed in chapter 3.


43 War-making, state-making, protection, and extraction gave each European state particular characteristics, such as for example the preeminence of police and bureaucracy in France. But Tilly also examines the marks that popular resistance has imprinted in institutions. Tilly argues that, at least in Europe, states conceded rights and charters to the people where they most resisted the state-making process (pp. 163-4). One example of this dynamics can be seen in the protests and struggles of British citizens facing the creation of the London Metropolitan Police. In Tillys work, the police amount to a tool or resource of the state to maintain and negotiate order and advance its own agenda. His work inspires research on the dynamics of collective action and political protests that evaluate strategies and costs of using coercive or persuasive tools (Della Porta).6Elaborating on Tilly among others, Laura Kalmanowiecki (1997) highlights the difficulties of changing police institutions and other coercive structures once they are organized. Government and Police as Stationary Banditry In Power and Prosperity , Mancur Olson examines different types of logics on which states are built. Olsons analyses complement and illuminate aspects of Skocpol and Tillys. As if elaborating on Tillys argument, Olson does not distinguish legitimate 6 Donatella Della Portas work on the policing of pr otest in Western European so cieties constitutes a major exception to the overlook of policing in comp arative politics. Della Porta focuses on the study of what protesters usually refer to as repression and the state as law and orderŽ (D ella Porta & Reiter, 1998, p. 1). She examines how th e politics of repression contribute to shape politics, mass protests, and the dynamics of social movements. Della Po rta develops a comparative analysis of different styles of police repression and dissuasion across West ern European countries. With main focus on Italy, Della Porta characterizes the strategy of policing protests during the 1980s along three main features: avoidance of use of coercion (whenever possible), negotiation and mediation with protesters, and ample intelligence gathering (p. 249). Comp arative analysis leads the author to identify fo ur styles of control of public order, based respectively on cooperation, negotiation (when th e police act as mediators between protesters and those they protest against), ritualistic standoff (when the police exercise a display of force but maintain distance from the demonstrators), and total control (whe n the police intervene and control protesters and their actions (p. 250).


44 from illegitimate rulers. In fact, he hypothesizes that the state arises from the settlement of a predatory banditry. Whereas for a predatory bandit it is rational to take as much as possible from a place and then leave, stationary banditsŽ have incentives to stay and make a smaller but permanent profit. In Olsons view, humanity has made progress only to the extent that it offered incentive for roving banding leaders to settle down and become rulers.Ž Instead, when incentives favor the return of a roving banditryŽ (2000, p. 26), equality, prosperity, and democracy become unviable. Olson judges the government as key to set down rules and incentives that foster different games. In the best Hobbesian tradition, he sees coercion and incentives as the main elements that influence individual and collective action. Olson conceives of policing as a public good that because of its character must be provided universally. Similar to other public goods, policing makes society more productiveŽ (2000, p. 9). Because of its cost and scope, the state is the only one institution that can provide it. The limitations of freedom that result from the government and the police are not judged problematic by Olson if they result from democratic procedures. He likens these situations to contracts in which the participants voluntarily restrict their freedom. Olson devotes a chapter to discussing the provision of efficacious and affordable law enforcement and the prevention of corruption. He argues that there can be no efficacious policing without the collaboration of private parties. But he also expects individuals will be willing to help maintain order in a market society. Why? Any capitalist society requires the enforcement of contracts and the protection of property rights. Hence, it is in the interests of propertied individuals to collaborate with the state in


45 enforcing the law. Olson sees that these private interests acts as a major force for crime prevention, lawful behavior, and law enforcementŽ (2000, p.103). But the basis of order arises with good economic policies and institutions. Instead, market-contrary policiesŽ foster generalized corruption, as he sees happening in most new democracies (2000, pp. 149-50). The challenge for societies then is to put together games that, by resorting to coercion and incentives, lead self-interested individuals to act in ways that are compatible with the general good. Both Tilly and Olson constitute major references to current studies of policing, organized crime, and warlordism that will be discussed in chapter 3. Along epistemological bases similar to Olsons, in The Rational Peasant Samuel Popkin (1979) questions moral economyŽ arguments for legitimizing traditional institutions. He collects data in South East Asian villages showing that traditional village institutions and agrarian relations did not provide security and welfare (to say nothing of dignity)Ž (p. 246) to the peasants. This lack of security serves Popkin to explain peasant support for Communism. As he sees it, it was not communism per se but the prospects to replacing the landlords with the modern state that led peasants to join revolutionary projects. Popkin (p. 97) describes Vietnamese peasants need for self-defense against invaders, pirates, starving men, and wild animals.Ž This need generated cooperative strategies of self-defense among the peasants as well as among members of the Hoa Hoa religion (p. 203). Popkin also describes forms of cooperation to regulate conflicts between villages over the utilization of water or the construction or elimination of damsŽ (p. 98).


46 Works such as Olson and Popkins have been criticized for using a deductive universal toolkitŽ that does not take into consideration crucial historical differences framing individuality and rationality (Thelen and Steinmo, 1992, p. 12). Certainly, this is a weakness of the rational choice approach. Still, their works„Olsons overall„make a relevant contribution to understanding the gamesŽ underlying police corruption and authoritarianism, as well as to grasp the populations frequent support for law and orderŽ repressive policies. The State as Policing The state arises and survives through practices of governance such as policing. In Seeing Like a State , James Scott (1998) characterizes the modern state as a machine of production of legibility. Both individuals and space have to be turned legible for sovereign power to be able to penetrate and govern them. Legibility consecrates a universe of lighting and straight lines, with cities reorganized along the logic of the grid,Ž which allow for the rapid location of beings. The police are implied in the logic described by Scott. He examines how last names, IDs, maps and charts, were all created by the modern state to make reality legible and therefore governable. What is elided in this analysis is the key role of the police in the implementation of these tools. Foucault (1976, 1978, 1978-1979, 1979, 1980) laid down the basis to approach policing as a governing practice. Chapter 4 assesses his theoretical contribution. But his work also served as inspiration for empirical research on policing, visible for example in the research done by Clifford Shearing. Co-authoring works alternatively with Philip Stenning, Richard V. Ericson, Michael Kempa, Jennifer Wood, and Les Johnston, among others, Shearings work offers one the most productive frameworks to interpret and discuss policing. Shearing has explored the mechanisms of private policing and theorized


47 on the emergence of new forms of global governance that integrate both state and nonstate sponsored policing. Together with Kempa (2002), he theorizes on the passage from police to policing,Ž consisting of a fragmentation and diversification of policing provision, and ushering in a plethora of agencies and agents.Ž This shift involves the displacement of the Westphalian system of states by forms of nodal governanceŽ that combine sets of state and non-state agenciesŽ in regulating peoples behavior throughout virtual and real spaces (p. 29). This scholarship claims that the ways of defining and maintaining public order are going through deep transformations. Today, there are many agencies and agents involved in the governance of security besides the policeŽ (Shearing and Wood, 2003, p. 402). The links between policing and governing find echo in the work of James Scott (1998), Timothy Mitchell (1988, 1990, 1991), and Benedict Anderson (1983). Foucaults work suggests that power is (re)produced throughout society in a networked way and questions the traditional image that represents power concentrated at the apexŽ of a hierarchy. Empirical findings of those who study police and administrative apparatuses also question the Weberian understanding of bureaucracies as hierarchical structures with discretionary powers located at the top. Seminal works by Michael Lipksy (1980), Michael Brown (1981), or Kenneth Culp Davis (1970-1) unveiled the degree of discretion and dispersion of power permeating police and administrative organizations. However, hierarchical forms of representing state power are still dominant in political science, at least among students of democratization.7 H.K. 7 This is for instance the cas e of ODonnells reference to a hierarchical order with sovereignty at the top (2004, pp. 34-5), which does not seem to correspond to the ev eryday realities of police and bureaucratic organizations.


48 Colebatch (2002) contrasts two forms of understanding governance, the Foucauldian and the liberal. Governance involves a vertical and a horizontal dimension, says Colebatch: The liberal approach is concerned predominantly with the vertical. It presents government as an external force, and its concern is with its organisational forms and practices: how `the government' is formed, may be approached, decides, and implements its decisions, and it links this to the discourses and practices of representative government--elections, parliament, debate, decision--to generate an explanation and a validation of governing. It finds the horizontal dimension problematic. In contrast, the Foucauldian perspective conceives of governance as governmentality and focuses on the horizontalƒcomplex interweaving of shared understandings and known practices and moral validity that govern conduct.Ž The perspective of governmentality challenges us to find out the place of the verticalŽ dimension of governance, or the place of `the government' in governing,Ž says Colebatch. But the Foucauldian tradition of governance has not yet developed a theory that integrates both dimensions. Mitchell Dean (1999) agrees with Hindess that the relative lack of concern with conventional governmental institutions ( i.e., the executive, the parliament) is one of the limitations of Foucaults concept of governmentality (Dean, 1999, p.47). Foucaults notion of governmentality, however, brings to light a series of practices of governance that the conventional characterization of government leaves in the shadows. Dean takes inspiration from Foucault to study the rationale behind different forms of governance. Foucaults critique of liberalism, presented in his lectures of government delivered at the College of France during 1978-98 serves Dean to discuss liberalism as a technology of government and the liberal rule of law as one of its tools. In those lectures, 8 Foucault presented his critiq ue to liberalism (and its rule of law) in his lectures at the College de France during 1978 and 1 979. Those tape-recorded lectu res still await publication in English and are available to us through students of Foucault, principally through the work of Thomas Lemke (2001).


49 Foucault approaches as a set of practices or as a way of doing thingsŽ that involves a principle and method of rationalizing the exercise of governmentŽ (1997, p.74). Liberal forms of governmentality thus arise from a concern with too much governmentŽ (p. 77) and ground themselves in society as opposite to the state. Foucaults approach to liberal forms of governmentality, Dean (2002, p. 38) argues, can account for what I shall call authoritarian mentalities and practices of rule within liberal democratic states.Ž The technologies of governance consecrated by liberalism do not necessarily respect individual freedom. It is norms, more than universal laws, the kind of rule that appears compatible with liberalism. In this respect, the rule of law appears as one of the narratives through which the liberal state and its police legitimize themselves. For the principles of rule of law to which liberalism appeals, are assumed to be exercised in certain, normalized, ways that liberal technologies of government, norms, and forms of biopolitical intervention contribute to produce.9 These forms, as Dean argues following Foucault, can be authoritarian. The authoritarian side of liberalism appears in relation to those individuals who do not spontaneously behave according to the premises of competition in a free market, such as businessmen, and then must be forced to adopt those patterns, such as the poor (Dean, p. 47). In a historical perspective, Dean also refers to John Stuart Mills treatment of colonial subjects as beings in need of a despot. Works such as Antonio Gramsci or Benedict Andersons disclose the contingent and construed character of national and political differences. Gramsci identified the police as a major transmitter of the law and the view of the elites throughout society. 9 One of the examples offered by Dean is parliamentary governments, which make possible for individuals to choose how to ensure the workings of the laws of the economy, but not whether such laws should govern him or herŽ (p. 122).


50 Popular culture, schooling, religion, or policing, all serve such a hegemonic function for Gramsci. The police themselves are formative elements in society. They may reinforce existing beliefs and values or they can help to transform popular cultureŽ (Bayley, 1977, p.234). It was mostly through fiction that the dilemmas and puzzles involved in policing gained visibility after the 19th century, first in the form of the detective and police novels and later on in major works that depicted life under real or imagined totalitarian regimes. Still these days, through the form of novels, tales, films, and TV series, fiction appears as a major source to approach current forms of policing. In turn, Benedict Andersons (1983, p. 163ss.) comparative research on nationalism illuminates how narratives on nationhood turn the contingency of living in a certain land into fate, to the point that it is almost impossible for us to think of our own personal identities without belonging to a nation. The more or less contingent adoption of a language, a calendar, the organization of schooling, the emergence of novels, newspapers, the consecration of heroes and the development of cliché forms of interpellating subjects as belonging to a certain nation display narrative mechanisms through which we come to think of ourselves as naturally belonging to a nation. Institutions and states constantly promote and rework certain rhetorical unification among their members. This is what Gramsci calls hegemony and Anderson (1983) accounts for with his concept of imagined communities.Ž Scott, Mitchell, and Foucault expose the ways in which practices of ordering generate the categories that they order. The modern state gives individuals last names and domiciles to tax and control them (Scott, 1998). Schooling teaches children to distinguish between reality and representation along the lines of Western metaphysics (Mitchell,


51 1988). Psychiatry, pedagogy, and medicine produce truths about individuals who have been confined in spaces to be treated as mad, students, and patients (Foucault, 1973, 1975). Practices of policing enforce these processes. Constituted as a set of practices of (re)creation of social order, policing permanently redefines what is acceptable and what is not acceptable in society, and differentiates what is political from what is considered as crime. It follows that different processes of ordering generate different ontologies. My study endorses these insights. It approaches police forces as the capillary expression of state sovereign power that define reality. Along these lines, my study understands acts of police discretion as concrete and visible acts of government. The Little Brothers of the Military? Transitions and Consolidations Authoritarian policing is generally associated with militarization. Philip Williams and Kurt Walters defined militarization as "the 'colonization' of the majority of state and state-related structures (at the apex of th e pyramid) by the military" (p. 7). Ultimately, such colonization of life spills through different layers of society until it reaches the domestic realm of everyday life, explain the authors (p. 7). Conversely, they see democratization as the recuperation of issues an d institutionsŽ from that militarized logic. Along similar lines, Alain Rouquié (1987, p.343) identified "successive waves of militarization and demilitarization" in Latin America since the 1950s. The discussion of policing in light of these experiences unavoidably expose the police as minor brothersŽ of the military. In El Salvador, Williams and Walters show, the maintenance of public order and policing were traditionally subordinated to the military. Clearly after 1948, the Salvadoran military took responsibility for the struggle against crime,Ž which the authors consider consistent with the milita rys long-standing direction of the security


52 forces, the Guardia Nacional and the Policía NacionalŽ (p. 50). Besides, the military in El Salvador counted with its own paramilitary forces, which it could use to intervene informally (p. 17). However, while the assimilation of the police to the military may adequately describe life in El Salvador before the 1990s, most students after Rouquié tend to represent the police as subordinated to the military in all new democracies. But attributing authoritarian traditions to the military misses the specificity of police power and its role within the state apparatus. It may be not militarism per se, but the long-lasting effects of the involvement of both the military and the police in political policing and practices of state terror that lies behind forms of new militarismŽ (Kincaid and Gamarra, 1996; Neild, 1999). In the 1980s, Guillermo ODonnell and Philippe Schmitter (1986) singled out the weight of political policing as a determinant for transitions. The authors found that scenarios with scarcely militarized politica l policing such as Fascist Italy, Salazars Portugal, or even Francos SpainŽ offered more favorable conditions for a democratic transition (p. 28) than Argentina, Chile, or Uruguay. These three countries had to confront the legacy of military involvement in practices of state terror. Entrenched apparatuses of political policing made democratization more difficult (p. 29). In Argentina, Kalmanowiecki historicizes the growth of an autonomous apparatus of political policing since the 1930s. She attributes its organization to President Agustín P. Justo (p. 36). The Argentinean apparatus of political policing became more powerful and autonomous under the presidencies of Juan Domingo Perón, and grew through the following decades (p. 46). It sustained the transformation of the country into a police state between 1976 and 1983. Among others, ODonnell (1983) and Juan Corradi (1996)


53 vividly conveys details of life in such Orwellian societies. Clandestine paramilitary squads, torture, concentration camps, tens of thousands of desaparecidosŽ and hundred of thousands of exiles, the elimination of political and union activities, and absolute censorship, were considered necessary to bring about order.Ž That order was supported by a widespread apparatus of political policing. ODonnell christened those regimes Bureaucratic Authoritarian.Ž Inspired by National SecurityŽ doctrines, bureaucratic authoritarian states subordinated their police forces to the military. Whenever those regimes did not militarize the police, they designated members of the military to head police forces. Hannah Arendts notion of totalitarianism also arises from the experience of life under a police state. Her books depict the political police as the core of state terror. Disturbingly, neither political policing nor authoritarian patterns of policing recede easily. Democratization, Policing, and the Rule of Law The problem of how to consolidate and strengthen democratic institutions gained importance in the 1990s. Adam Przeworski (1991) proposed to consider a regime consolidated when democracy becomes the only game in town.Ž Soon, it was clear that this was too high and absolute a standard. Linz and Stepan (1996a, 1996b) then proposed to assess democratization in different arenas of society,Ž or the social layers that constitute the pillars of a democratic regime. Linz and Stepan identify five main arenasŽ to assess democratization: political society, civil society, economic society, the state apparatus, and the rule of law (p. 10). The function of the latter is to settle a hierarchy of norms that make actions by, and upon, other arenas legitimate and predictableŽ (p. 14). Linz and Stepans work reveal the extended network of institutions and social relations that constitute the basis of a


54 democratic regime. They need to accompany democratization. If a functioning state exists, five other interconnected and mutually reinforcing conditions must also exist or be crafted for a democracy to be consolidatedŽ (p. 7). However, the authors assumption of a functioning stateŽ does not coincide with the reality of many new democracies. A main problem faced by many new democracies as well as by marginalized areas within established democracies is that the state authority does not reachŽ the whole territory. Larry Diamond (2003, p.196) sees that third waveŽ democracies tend to be built upon weak and precariousŽ states whose judiciaries often cannot do much more than administer the rule of lawlessness.Ž State institutions are rarely presentŽ in shantytowns and inner cities. Whereas this appears to be a worldwide trend, in many new democracies like Colombia or Brazil entire territories have been abandoned by the state and are under the control of non-state actors such as those described by Tilly. In the 1990s it became clear that a reasonably effective and viable state is a crucial condition for, among other things, democratizationŽ (O'Donnell, 2002, pp. 9-10). Gero Mass and David Mepham (2004) define weak states as those where the central government cannot fully uphold its authority and prevent lawlessness across part of its national territoryŽ (p. 9). Due to the generally uneven reach of the states authority, the authors propose not to qualify entire states but regions or areas within th e state territory as failed or failingŽ (p. 9). Along these lines, ODonnell identifies a paradox by which if weak states favored the demise of authoritarian regimes, they also pose an obstacle to the consolidation of democratic rule. If states reach through their territories unevenly, so does democracy. The level of democracy may vary significantly across sectors and institutional arenas,Ž says Diamond,


55 as well as across territory within the national stateŽ (1997, p.19). Diamond mentions the case of the exclusion of African-Americans from U.S. politics in the South until the 1960s as an illustration of the heterogeneous development of democratic regimes. His argument proposes to define regional and local units to examine the progress of democratization. With a focus on democratic transitions in Eastern Europe, Ezra Suleiman (1999, pp. 162-3) questions the absence of comparative studies of bureaucracies in new democracies. Advancing democratic policies requires efficient administrative bodies and a competent, legally based, accountable, and professional bureaucratic structure.Ž Suleimans study has the virtue of shifting the emphasis from courts to administration. For neither the rule of law nor democracy can prosper amidst the opaqueness and authoritarianism of bureaucracies unless they are reorganized along democratic lines. Accordingly, Larry Diamond (2003, p.196) argues that strengthening democratic authority requires advancing toward the reform of the judiciary and the state administrative apparatus. But within state administration, policing appears as a major indicator of the equality of democratic institutionsŽ (Marks, 2000, p. 558). “New” Democracies and the New Literature Originally understood as a legacy of previous regimes, it soon became clear that the persistence of authoritarian patterns of policing in new democracies was more than an inheritance from military regimes. Patte rns of authoritarian policing continued thriving across the Americas after the end of the Cold War under the inspiration of national securityŽ doctrines (Chevigny, 1995; Huggins, 1998; Wacquant, 2000; Neild, 1999). As Mark Shaw (2002) puts it A review of police instruments in new democracies suggests that in most cases the heavy hand of authoritarian policing has remained unchanged and indeed is


56 difficult to shake off. Policing remains centrally controlled, often paramilitary in nature and with continued problems of community relations (p. 19). The rise of crime and the ghost of terrorismŽ gave new impulse to projects that turn police forces into counter-insurgency tools and use them against the political opposition. The weakness of most state institutions reinforces this new militarism,Ž by which the military are charged with maintaining public order or preventing and fighting crime (Kincaid and Gamarra, 1996, p. 222; Neild, 1999, p. 20). True democratization involves bringing the states coercive apparatus under public accountabilityŽ (Kalmanowiecki, p. 48). Whereas no modern democracy has yet achieved democratic control of this coercive apparatus, enduring patterns of authoritarian policing affect particularly new democracies. African democracies face the additional obstacle posed by the legacy of colonialism. Colonial authoritarian and patrimonial state structures were frequently supported on paramilitary police agenciesŽ (Bratton & van de Walle, 1997, p. 62; Neild, 1999). The need to transform these irregular armies into a modern military has led new democracies to put more resources into the military than the police,Ž says Neild. Different authors agree that militarization, the privatization of security, and vigilantism characterize the new authoritarian pattern of public security in Latin America (Gamarra and Kincaid, 1996; Cruz and Diamint, 1998). The use of the military for policing reached national status in Honduras, Brazil, El Salvador, Mexico, and Bolivia. Militarization is generally accompanied by the involvement of non-state actors in tasks of policing, such as vigilante groups or criminal networks (Kincaid and Gamarra, p. 223). But these patterns reach far beyond Latin America. "Created to do the dirty workŽ of political repression, militarized special units are also used to deal with complex crimes


57 such as kidnappings or drug trafficking in Los Angeles, Buenos Aires, Sao Paulo, and Jamaica" (Chevigny, 1995, p. 143). Since the military know nothing about the prevention of crime or guaranteeing citizen rights, the (r e)militarization of law-enforcement threatens the fragile achievements of the e ffort to remove the military from internal security tasksŽ (Neild, 1999, p. 20). Pockets of authoritarianism are produced and maintained through policing. Discussing the latter, Allen Feldman (2001) identifies social control zonesŽ that have emerged accompanying globalization and that operate as spaces of containment of those who are excluded from the process. These zones spread from American inner cities to Budapest, Cape Town, Guatemala City, São Paolo, and Buenos Aires,Ž says Feldman. Both these territories and those beings included within them are defined as pathologicalŽ through police, administrative and territorial distinctions. Feldmans account coincides with Cathy Schneiders and Paul E. Amars (2003, p. 2) description of an emerging transnational matrix of authoritarian securityŽ composed by urban police forcesŽ and supported by anti-democratic actors throughout the world. The authors examine how this network threatens to undermine the fabric of emerging democraciesŽ (p. 2). Also Paul Chevigny (p.119) agrees that police brutality and the policing function more generally are part of the deep structure of a globalized, neoliberal, society.Ž For globalization also favors the spread of authoritarianism. But the transnational networks identified by Schneider and Amar are not recent. Both Huggins (1998) and Neild (1999) document the U.S. support of the Latin American version of National Security DoctrinesŽ that g uided military and police actions and cost the lives of tens of thousands of citizensŽ (Neild). Huggins carried extensive research on


58 bilateral training in authoritarian policing and counter-insurgency techniques (including torture) in Latin America during the Cold War years. Shearings research adds the dimension of private policing into the picture. Together with Stenning (1983, p. 9), he notes the pervasive, international characterŽ of private policing. Commercial forms of policing extend at the same pace than forms of mass private propertyŽ such as shopping malls and gated communities. This expansion has generated a series of private orders that undermine the authority of the state. On the one hand, it allows its participants to avoid state abuse, for as Daniel Brinks (2004, p. 37) notices, the wealthy residents of gated communities in Buenos Aires and Sao Paulo have purchased immunity from police violence by removing themselves from the places where the state, and especially its police force, interacts with society.Ž On the other hand, life in these bubbles of governanceŽ (Rigakos and Greener, 2000, qtd. in Kempa and Shearing, 2002) dilutes the experience of a common citizenship and the possibility of defining a common order. In South Africa, Shaw sees the spread of private policing as a tool that perpetuates class divisions and social exclusion. Mike Davis (1990) and Teresa Caldeiras (1999) study the politics, aesthetics, and narratives of security in the dual societies resulting from the coexistence of spaces regulated by the state and gated communities. Whereas a more powerful civil society seems more successful to resist these trends (Loader, 2000), the privatization of policing worries many in new democracies. Across Latin America, it is perceived as a "refeudalization" of power supported on the miniature armiesŽ of private security companies (Cruz and Diamint, 1998, p. 118). Private policing opens room for the definition of a customer-tailored definition of public security. Ultimately, argues Huggins (2000, p. 203), the


59 transformation of security into a commodity breeds further insecurity and fosters the perceived need for an even stronger, more centralized protection racket to bring order.Ž Not surprisingly, weaker states see the boundaries between vigilantes, private guards, death squads, and security forces blur (Mehlum et al. , 2002; Volkov, 2000). With the prioritization of security over civil and political liberties, the post-September 11, global scenario has worsened the horizon. Need for Reform It was an illusion to think that, with the advent of democracy, the police would by themselves cease illegal activitiesŽ (Kalmanowiecki , 1991, p. 48). Kalmanowiecki exposes the challenges for current democracies to cope with a state apparatus of political policing that has remained conspicuously immune to any form of accountability and democratic controlŽ (p. 37). In cases like this, the legacy of authoritarianism combines with corruption and forms of para-military violence among the police. Shaw coincides with Kalmanowiecki on the differences between policing authoritarian and democratic societies. Under authoritarian rule, the police were used to control protest, hunt down and harass those in opposition to the regime. Generally, however, the police in authoritarian regimes did attempt to control some aspects of criminal behaviour, although in most cases there was a grey area between what constituted crime and what was the stuff of politics. Thus, opposition to authoritarian rule was criminalised, while criminals were considered unpatriotic, and thus crime was politicised. (Shaw, p. 11) Police forces organized to repress the political opposition are not likely to be efficient in preventing crime. Besides, in most new democracies police officers receive insufficient training, very low salaries, perform their functions in contexts of widespread corruption, and are familiar with illegal uses of force and violence (Chevigny, 1995; Huggins, 1991; Stanley, 2002).


60 Ensuring an effective system of policing in any new democracy forms the cornerstone of the new orderŽ (Shaw, p. 11). Despite an almost unanimous concern on the need to reform the police under democratic auspices, little attention has been devoted to studying alternatives for the democratization of police forces, as both Shaw (2002) and Salih Hakan Can (2003) notice. Drawing on the analysis of new democracies, Shaw (p. 2) identifies efforts at police reform aiming to make them more efficient in fighting crime and more acceptable to ordinary citizens.Ž But the author identifies mixed results and contradictory trends undermining those goals. For rising crime rates lead citizens paradoxically to demand and increase of police powers. These trends result in a return to aspects of authoritarian policing in the name of crime control and a continued use of the military for purposes of internal social orderingŽ (p. 2). Experiences of police reforms show more failures and uncertain results than successes. Despite sustained attempts to replace repressive frameworks of national securityŽ with inward-lookingŽ forms of citizen securityŽ drawn from UN doctrines on human security (Cruz and Diamint, 1998, p. 121; Call, 2002), authoritarian patterns of police resist change. However, as Shaw (p. 10) suggests, the comparative study of police reform across various societies that have moved from authoritarian rule to democracyŽ is still lacking. Shaw accounts for the problematic character of foreign assistance in police training, which Otwin Marenin describes as a vast, growing and largely unstudied international exchange and trade in police values, ideologies, policies and technologiesŽ (1998, p. 159). Bringing foreign personnel into the country may be necessary because of the lack


61 of local technicians. Yet, Shaw makes a balance of most programs of assistance in police reform, most of them sponsored by the United States. Most programs have not been designed with the recipient country in mindŽ (p. 17), says Shaw, but they were drawn along the interests and needs of the foreign country. The American emphasis on issues of trans-national organised crime and drugs (and now on terror)Ž lead American-inspired programs of police reform to distort local law enforcement agenciesŽ and to leave local needs unattended. These programs also discourage the formation of local know-how. Of even greater concern is the fact that their democratic character cannot be guaranteed. For transnational networks of authoritarian policing extend also at their own expense. With police forces being a reservoir of authoritarian practices in most countries, we cannot naïvely assume that police officers from established democracies are teaching democracyŽ to their fellows from countries that still struggle to stabilize democratic rule. Programs of police reform must include the citizenry through effective forms of local control and accountabilityŽ (Shaw, p. 13). They need to be flexible and to balance strengthening local accountability with central control by the democratic state, says Shaw. Neild highlights the importance of supporting police reform with coherent forms of police training. She also suggests the need to reinforce institutional changes with a system of punishments and rewards (p. 25). These studies do not mean that change is impossible, but they show how difficult it is. Shaw highlights positive contributions of non-governmental organizations in transforming the police, especially in South Africa. However, Shaw concludes, there is no clear example of a post-authoritarian state that


62 has been able to achieve significantly enhanced levels of safety for its citizensŽ (Shaw, p. 21). Police reform appears very difficult everywhere (Bayley, 1977; Walker, 1977; Chan, 1996; Chiller, Rosúa, and Sain, 1998; Can, 2003, Yusufi, 2004). PurgesŽ of members of the police involved in corruption of violence generally accompany the beginning of reforms. But the latter risk stopping there. Two main perspectives dispute how to make police reforms more effective: the first emphasizes the importance of changing the legal and procedural framework that regulates policing. The other underlines the importance of transforming police culture and practices. The first view sees the inconsistency between laws, norms, and regulations as the main source of failure of reforms. For example, in Argentina, the survival of a legal and procedural framework promulgated by military governments appears as a powerful Trojan horse that undermines the democratic reform of policing. The second perspective tends to frame the challenge of democratic police reform as a question of changing police culture. The latter view, focused on cultural patterns, seems to pr evail over more legalisticŽ positions in the recent literature on police reform. Many studies show the persistence of institutional and cultural police patterns. Police forces tend to maintain the traits that they acquired when first assembled (Bayley, 1975; Kalmanowiecki, 2000). Peter Manning defines police culture as the core skills, cognitions, and affect that define the police workŽ (qtd. in Chan, n p.). It arises from the ensemble of values, rules, and patterns of behavior that orient police practices and condition the actors positions about social order and the role of policing in society. In 1953, Westley examined the genesis and function of the illegal use of violence by the


63 police” in the United States. Westley linked vi olent behavior to the working conditions of the police. Studies such as hi s and the persistence of poli ce abuse and violence inspired studies of police culture . police subculture “grows out of the peculiar characteristics and conflicting pressures of the job” (Goldstein, p. 29-30). The need of coping with danger, suspicion, excessive, contradictory, and limitle ss demands, and reliance on each other, make police bodies closed and resistant to change. For decades now, cross-national research has shown that authoritarianism, machismo, racism, generalized suspicion, secr ecy, tolerance to viol ence, and corporative attitudes, are almost univers al among the police. They are embedded within hegemonic institutional frameworks, which police offi cers tend not to recognize. These findings have fostered scholarship on “police culture” (Manning, 1977; Young, 1991; Bittner, 1975, 1990; Chan, 1996) that illuminates the in stitutional and symbolic roots of authoritarian police practices. Thus, students de part from a seemingly universal core of police culture to identify regional and local variants. Present-day Argentina serves Ruth St anley (2002) to question universalizing assumptions on “cop culture,” since they cannot account for different degrees and patterns of deviance among different police forces. As she puts it, If cop culture in Argentina is broadly similar to cop culture in Great Britain, Canada, and New Zealand, how can it account for the quite different profiles of these police forces? A concept as general as cop culture is unable to explain these crucial differences. Instead, Stanley sees the beliefs of the elit es as better predictors of police deviance. The case of Argentina serves her to high light the commonalities between “cop culture” and the values of the “ruling elite” and to suggest that the police tend not to be more authoritarian, corrupt, or viol ent than the most powerful sectors in society. Her work


64 highlights the bonds between police and nationa l culture, the arena wh ere the struggle for hegemony takes place. Although Stanley is right, the heuristics of national elite culture that she offers as an alternative appears as homogenizing and limited as the concept of sectorial police culture that she criticizes. Generalizing perspectiv es on (sectorial or national) culture tend to reify a set of values and to treat them as essential traits of a group of people. Janet Chan (p. 109) looks instead for diffe rences within the police and argues for the need of discriminating between organizatio nal levels or layers of police culture; otherwise, scholars will continue to reduce pol ice culture to the “street cop culture” while overlooking “management top culture.” The study of culture and values among the police, Chan suggests, should aim to identify multiple “police cultures” and “variation in cultures among police forces.” Shearing and Ericson (p. 488) examine how metaphors and tropes embedded in culture influence police practices. Police officer s persistently explain their decisions by telling stories and invoking aphorisms, the same way they communicate with novices. Stories, tropes, and images (re)produce a “way of seeing and being in the world” (p. 499). Similarly, the “stories of th e police culture” shape police o fficers’ judgment, decisions, and practices. Thus, for example, once a “pre tty young woman is seen as a prostitute she becomes the object of a completely different kind of attention” (p. 494). Transmitted through stories, “culture makes available a process of ‘mythological thinking’ ‘mythological making’ or ‘poe tic logic’ that allows ac tion to be both orderly and improvisational” (Shearing and Ericson, p. 483) . Shearing and Ericson understand stories and tropes as a form of “genera tive program” of police practices.


65 Illuminating research on the links between culture and practices has been done recently by Terrill, Pauline and Manning (2003). The observation of more than 3,000 citizen-police encounters leads the authors to confirm that differences in coercion are a result of variation in cultural alignments.Ž They identify cultural patterns and group them in three main styles of police culture. Chapter 5 discusses their findings. Authors such as P.A.J. Waddington10 (1999) question the argument that beliefs and ideas influence action and thus also the validity of the police culture approach. Yet it is unclear how critics like him can account for the correlation between beliefs and behavior, which seems especially clear in extreme cases such as in Nazi Germany or other scenarios where genocides have taken place. Just to mention two examples: the representation of Jews as pests by state propaganda preceeded their confinement into ghettoes and posterior annihilation.11 Similarly, Arendt describes the process of semiotic dehumanization to which prisoners were subjected in the concentration camps to then be sent to the gas chambers. Hence, I see no valid reason why we should not engage in studying how representations among those invested with police power promote different 10 P.A.J. Waddington questions the association, gene ralized among students of p olice culture,Ž between beliefs, values, stories, and action among police officers. Waddington do es recognize the existence of a quasi-universal police culture, whose elements are to be found across a remarkably broad spectrum of police talk in a wide variety of jurisdiction sŽ (pp. 295-6). However, he sustains that this culture operates mainly as a palliative, rather than as a guid e to future actionŽ (p. 295). Waddington argues that police behavior is contextually determined, in conditions of uncertainty an d danger. In his perspective, the stories told by police officers in the canteen,Ž should be seen as performances. But he suggests that the canteenŽ culture of the police has little or no relation with what police officers actually do in the field, which in his view appears to be purely contextua l. Waddingtons argument relies on experiments ru n by social psychologists. He concl udes: If we wish to explain (and not just to condemn) police behaviour on the streets, then we should look no t in the remote recesses of what police officers say in the canteen or privately to researchers, but in the circumstances in which th ey act,Ž p.302). The problems posed by Waddington certainly deserve co nsideration, as he questions our relian ce on interviews. The generalized lack of access to police institutions, however, makes extremely difficult for the moment to test contending hypotheses on the relation (or lack of relation) between narrativ es and action. Still, Waddingtons loose definition of context,Ž and his opposition to cultureŽ seems prob lematic, for the characterization of context ( i.e the characterization of a situation as normalŽ or as dangerousŽ) appears hermeneutically determined. 11 This illustration of Nazi propaganda can be seen in the film The Architecture of Doom .


66 practices. Still, Moore and Bayley remind us of the risks of abusing culture as an explanatory factor. Culture can easily become an all-purpose explanation, as national character sometimes hasŽ (1977, p.234), Bayley says. Studies done on the dynamics of state administration and street level bureaucratsŽ (Lipsky, 1980) brought new light to the power of police officers. It became clear that rules and policies are filtered by the decisions of those in charge of implementing and administering them. The literature on discretion and police discretion fuses police with policy studies (Lipsky, 1980; Reiss, 1971; Brown, 1981; Aaronson et al. , 1984; Goldstein, 1963, 1990; Walker, 1977). Authors such as Bayley, Mawby, Skolnick, Bittner, J. Q. Wilson, Davis, Manning, or Reiner, brought light to different aspects of police power and discretion in a comparative perspective. This vast literature exposes the symbolic universe of the police as well as their power. Findings on police culture and discretion suggest the need to transform policing from the bottom up, or from withinŽ as Marks puts it. Otherwise, the interstices that police practices open for discretion will continue serving the reproduction of authoritarianism. Because as Goldstein reminds us, police officers are spread out in the field, not subject to direct supervisionŽ and exercise enormous authorityŽ that includes the prerogative to take peoples livesŽ (p. 6). Learning theory permits us to identify opportunities for change. Scholars such as Peter Hall suggest that crises create a possibility for collective learning and policy reform to adjust the goals or techniques of policy in response to past experience and new informationŽ (Hall 278). Initiatives in the matter of police reform seem to respond to this pattern. Unfortunately, scandals originating in episodes of police violence or corruption seem to constitute a necessary condition for policy shifts and police reform. Scandals led


67 to the transformation of the police in the United States after corruption and partisan alignments made the situation intolerable at the end of the 19th century (Walker 3). More recently, scandals triggered by cases such as Rodney King in Los Angeles and Amadiou Diallo in New York opened up for debates about the police. A scandal originated after the rape and murder of a girl at a police station in Bogotá in 1993 led to the contemporary process of reform of the Colombian National Police (Kenney 207). In Argentina, scandals provoked by the murders of high-school student María Soledad Morales in Catamarca in 1990, photographer José Luis Cabezas in January 1997, and teenager Sebastián Bordón in Mendoza in October 1997 opened (or at least eased) possibilities for reform and the reorganization of the system of public security during the 1990s.12 12 In September 1990, high-school student María Soleda d Morales was found dead in the surroundings of Catamarca city. What seemed to be just another police case called public attention when María Soledads classmates and nun Martha Pelloni started to run periodic silent dem onstrations, marchas del silencio,Ž demanding the authorities to investigate and solve the case. The investigation unveiled th e involvement of Luis Luque, son of one of the National Senators for the Province, in the murder of María Soledad. Increasing support from the people and the national media led to an institutional crisis in Catamarca. In 1993, filmmaker Héctor Olivera made a film with the story (see the Special Dossier ha t Clarín devoted to the case. El Asesinato que Conmovió al PaísŽ). .The federal governme nt intervened the province and called for new elections. These electi ons signified the end of the quasi-feudal leadership of the Saadi family in the province, wh ich was replaced with a democratic alliance (Anderson L. 2002:120). José Luis Cabezas, a photographer of Noticias , a news magazine, was horrib ly murdered in February 1997 in the beach resort of Pinamar. A few weeks before, he had taken a photograph of Alfredo Yabrán, a wealthy businessman who made his fort une in obscure circumstances under the sponsorship of the military during the 1970s. Yabráns power grew in the shadows, and no one before Cabezas had taken public pictures of him. Several members of the Buenos Aires police were identified as the authors of Cabezas homicide (see Centro de Estud ios Legales y Sociales (CELS). Las Fuerzas Policiales y el Poder Judicial Frente al Asesinato de José Luis Cabezas . Documento de Trabajo, Buenos Aires, 1997). Sebastián Bordón was a 18 year-ol d high-school student who was vis iting Mendoza for his graduation school trip. Detained in a police sta tion, his corpse was found at the bottom of a mountain with apparent signs of having been beaten by the police. In the meantime, the police had declared him disappeared.Ž The scandal produced by the case of Sebastiáns murder led to the reform of the provincial police. Steven Levitsky highlights the role played by both the media and civil society in turning cases of institutional violence such as the murders of María Soledad and José Luis Cabezas visible in democratic Argentina. However, he rightly calls our attention to the absence of more institutionalized forms of accountability.Ž Without the active engagement of the people and the media, it is unlikely that the judicial process alone would have brought justice in eithe r of these casesŽ (Levitsky, 2001, p. 30). These are just three of the hundreds of cases of murd ers by members of the security forces in Argentina. CORREPI, the Coordinator Against Institutional and Police Repression, keeps a minute archive of cases of police killings happened under de mocratic governments. They round the thousand (


68 Chan (1996, n p.) argues that the deep cynicism and hostilityŽ about government elites and the need for their own accountability that most police officers share in most countries cannot be changed through organizational reforms only. Changes in education and training are key. Yet as Chan suggests they tend not to reach the rank and file. The Rule of Law The rule of law defines one of the arenasŽ of democratization that serve Linz and Stepan (1996a, 1996b) to judge the degree of consolidation of a democratic regime. The rule of law appears as a major dimension of citizenship that supports the exercise of political rights (Caldeira and Holston, 1999; Oxhorn, 1998; O'Donnell, 1998, 2004). In comparative politics, the literature on the rule of law inspires a strand of research focused on judicial politics (Walker, 2003; Brinks, 2004). It approaches policing as a part of the justice system and examines its contribution to the persistence of the (un)rule of law in new democracies (ODonnell, Lemos-Nelson, Schor, Carothers).13 Authors such as Teresa Lemos-Nelson, Martin Schor, and Sergio Pinheiro characterize Brazil and most Latin American countries for a brutal gap between the written law and the actual conditions of law enforcement and the administration of justice (pp. 16-7). Lemos-Nelson sees this distance as a main source of the use of violence in the resolution of conflicts, and Schor calls for extending the rule of law to close the gap between law and reality (p. 2). The main current theorist of the rule of law in comparative studies seems to be O'Donnell. He presents the rule of law as the legally-based rule of a democratic stateŽ 13 See ODonnell (1996, pp. 34-51; 1998); Lemos-Nelson, Tereza (2001); Schor, Miguel (2001). In recent years, the strengthening of the rule of law has become as a priority for USAID and other, international, offices. See for example: ( r_work/democracy_and_gov ernance/technical_areas/rule_of_law/).


69 lying at the core of both the Roman and Anglo-Saxon traditions. ODonnell sees the rule of law as a synonym with the Spanish expression Estado de Derecho,Ž the German Rechsstaat,Ž and the French état de droit.Ž In all these traditions, he says, the law must be written down and publicly promulgated by an appropriate authority before the events meant to be regulated by itŽ (2004, p.33). As a set of public laws impartially administered by the judiciary and other state institutions, the rule of law defines the solid basis of democratization for O'Donnell (1998, pp. 7-8, 2004). The rule of law results in both a hierarchy of norms and a horizontal network of accountability. All relations throughout the system are regulated by law, including those that arise from the application of the law itself. O'Donnell remarks that there is no moment in which the whim of a given actor may justifiably cancel or suspend the rules that govern his or her actions. No one, including the most highly placed official, is above the lawŽ (pp. 34-5). Along these lines, ODonnell also opposes the rule of law to the notion of sovereign power. Sovereign power appears as a synonym for the rule of man. Instead, says ODonnell, the rule of law rejects the existence of someone at the top of the hierarchy who is able to make decisions unconstrained by law when the sovereign judges that there is a need to do soŽ (p. 35). The opposition between sovereignty and law presented by ODonnell embodies the Lockean, liberal, narrative on the law developed against sovereignty. More recently, O'Donnell (2004, p. 45) advances the distinction between the mere rule of law and a democraticŽ one. He acknowledges that the rhetoric of the rule of lawŽ admits authoritarian uses to legitimize inequality, as it was done in earlier timesŽ in


70 Latin America. In contrast, the democraticŽ rule of law guarantees individual rights and liberties, makes authorities accountable against potential abuses of state power,Ž and affirms the political equality of all citizensŽ (p. 32). Despite ODonnells precisions, most authors simply treat the rule of law as a synonym for democracy. Along these lines, strengthening the rule of law has become as a priority for USAID, the World Bank, and other international offices. The extension of the scholarly claim to support democratization by strengthening the rule of law has made the rule of law stand out these days as a metonymical signifier for democracy.Ž In fact, both words are used almost as synonyms, and most scholars seem to take its meaning for granted. Both in conceptual and practical term s, the literature on the rule of law assimilates policing to the police and the police to law enforcement. Like the argument presented by ODonnell, these views also appeal to the rule of law to oppose the rule of man, or arbitrary power exercised over rightless persons by unaccountable administrators with too much discretion and a focus on efficient outcomes not justiceŽ (Honig, 2005, p. 34). But, as Andreas Schedler (2003, p. 2) notices, the universal demand that new democratic states should strive to establish the rule of law, not men tends to underplay the fact that in concrete disputes the demands of law are often obscure, complex, and controversial.Ž In fact, the dominant framework of the rule of law presents important flaws, which originate in a formalistic understanding of the law. The latter coincides with what Schedler (p. 12) refers to as legalism, or the belief that law consists of a set of rules which is complete, self-explanatory, and conclusive.Ž Lega listic views assume that the interpretation of rules may be not problematic and, as Judith Shklar puts it, that those


71 charged with judging and making decisions have always a rule for them to followŽ (qtd. in Schedler). Legalism relies on the assumption that there is always one correct, objectively true solution to legal problemsŽ (Schedler, p. 12). Legalistic views represent the police as a group of automatonsŽ (Goldstein) auxiliary of the judiciary in charge of merely enforcing that law. Ultimately, policing is seen as unproblematic as far as we achieve to subject the police to the law. Puzzlingly, the perspective promoted by legalism, which Schedler suggests is dominant in new democracies, added to a weak judiciary, results in authoritarian judicial practices performed on behalf of the rule of law. While this depiction of legalism may appear exaggerated to some, Bonnie Honig accounts for the trend of theorists of the rule of law to attribute agency to lawŽ (p. 33). Honig identifies Lucy Salyer, Martin Shapiro, Andrew Arato, and Jurgen Habermas among those who attempt to purge the law from any personal components and to neutralize those aspects of the law that look dangerously decisionistic (e.g. interpretation, implementation, technicality)Ž (p. 33). In contrast, this literature presents the rule of law as authorized processes, forms, and norms that are said to transcend and bind the agency of any mere humanŽ (p. 33). As a transcendental entity that does not allow for agency, the law is then (re)presented as an autonomous agent in itself. Brought to its extreme this narrative on the autonomous rule of law reveals a fetishizing, mythical, treatment of the law. Honig (p. 35) rightly questions the rule of law/rule of man distinction as overdrawn and misleading.Ž On the one hand, it radically opposes law and human agency, almost suggesting that the law may have existence independently of the humans that (re)create and implement it. On the other hand, it consecrates the judiciary as the


72 realm of the rule of law, which is drawn in opposition before its demonized, administrative other.Ž Honig addresses the maniqueism embedded in current narratives on the rule of law: Legal scholars and political theorists take something that is unsettling inside of the rule of law, (variable, fallible interpretation, application, implementation, invention, technicality), cast it outside, and call it decisionism so that the rule of law is dept pure of its de-legitimating taint. Decisionism is then identified with emergency politics, the state of exception, and its very foreign proponent, the legal theorist turned Nazi jurist, Carl Schmitt; or it is identified with the rule of laws other Other. (p. 36) Honigs argument forces us to confront that the arbitrariness of administrative apparatuses denounced by students of the rule of law in fact informs administrators and justices alike.Ž Dominant, fetishized, narratives of the rule of law overlook instead that laws are enforced mostly through administrative (and police) apparatuses and that authoritarian and abusive practices may also find legitimacy in the law. Conversely, they do not seem to admit that, as Honig points out, discretionary power admits benign uses, for the interstices of the law can be interpreted in ways that are supportive of individual rights and freedom. This narrow, formal, understanding of the law translates into an also formalistic approach to government and power. If fetishization attributes agency to an inanimate object at the price of concealing something else, the fetishized image of the rule of law denies its own role in governance and the personal, discretionary, and lawless moments embedded in governing practices.14 Ultimately, the discourse of the rule of law denies (its own) power while legalizingŽ government and the political (Dean, p. 118) and reducing 14 That is to say, the rule of law presents itself as so mehow a condition of no-rule, disavowing its implication in institutions of governan ce, despite the fact that the term itself„ rule of law „implies governance. Similarly, the so-called state of exception is disavowed, rendered exceptional, marked as a suspension of law rather than seen as part (even if an extreme part) of the daily rule-of-law generated struggle between judici al and administrative powerŽ (Honig, p. 37).


73 them to formal and mechanical processes. With legalistic conceptions of the rule of law, the puzzles involved in governance find an imaginary solution that proceeds through dichotomizing, and reifying in an opposite pole, rule of man, whatever it cannot explain. Such a formalistic understanding of the rule of law and the denial of (sovereign) power hinder our understanding of the role of policing in the government and the challenges for its democratization. Drawn from the liberal tradition in political philosophy (Locke, Mill), the problems embedded in the concept of the rule of law call for revisiting the tradition of political theory in search of insight on the power embedded in policing. Law against sovereign power? In his characterization of the rule of law, O'Donnell (2004, p.34) acknowledges that strictly speaking there is no rule of law, or rule by laws, not men, but just individuals in various capacities interpreting rules. However, this personal element in the implementation of the law leads him to discuss its irregular enforcement. This account implies that extending the rule of law implies the elimination of discretion in general and police discretion in particular. This understanding is problematic. O'Donnell's concept of the rule of law is flawed in its understanding of power and the law. By raising the law against sovereign power, it neglects the fact that the latter lays the foundation of the former. It assumes the possibility for the law to be univocal and unproblematic. The concrete, personal element in the interpretation and implementation of the law that defines the terrain of discretion is not eliminated but simply denied. Studies of policing show that its exercise involves enormous discretion (Walker, 1977, p. xiv). The pervasiveness of discretionary powers exercised by the police suggests the


74 inadequacy of forms of understanding the law and its implementation that are based on the denial of discretion. The personal element involved in the process of governing a polity through law cannot be eliminated unless we replace every single activity of government by a series of automatic and robotized mechanisms bond together by an also automatic processing. Until that moment, discretion will stay with us. But this seems not to be a fair alternative, for who is going to accommodate universal rules to particular situations fairly and prudently? Still, these flaws arise from strands of liberalism whose core can be traced back to Locke. Let us see why they are problematic. In the Second Treatise of Government , Locke makes several references against personal, arbitrary power. Such power does not exist in Nature, he argues, nor natural laws allow us to exercise absolute power or to subject ourselves to it.15 Against Filmers (ironic) notion of freedom as doing whatever one pleases, Locke conceives of freedom as having a standing rule to live by, common to every one of that society, and made by the legislative power erected in itŽ (§21). Locke coun terpoises this idea to being subject to the inconstant, uncertain, unknown, arbitrary will of another man.Ž In this passage, Locke establishes the opposition rule of law/rule of man that was discussed before. But his argument also advances over sovereign power. Locke establishes that there can be no authority if it is not in agreement with law, for where-ever law ends, tyranny beginsŽ (§ 202). He defines tyranny as the exercise of power beyond rightŽ that allows magistrates to act according to their own ambition, revenge, covetousness, or any other irregular passionŽ (§ 199). Therefore, tyranny and the 15 Nobody, says Locke, has an absolute arbitrary power ov er himself, or over any other, to destroy his own life, or take away the life or property of anotherŽ (§ 135).


75 rule of law stand as opposite. Locke argues for the need to resist the tyrannical use of power and its abuses. His analysis targets especially those subordinate magistratesŽ who despite their lower rank enjoy considerable power over individuals. It is telling that he uses police functions to illustrate the kind of tyrannical practices that citizens should resist. He says that He that hath authority to seize my person in the street, may be opposed as a thief and a robber, if he endeavours to break into my house to execute a writ, notwithstanding that I know he has such a warrant, and such a legal authority, as will impower him to arrest me abroad (§ 202). Locke is clear that no public officer can deviate from the law regardless of rank. Nor should people obey illegal mandates, for any act undermining the law is illegitimate. In addition, he opens up the possibility of using force to resist unjust and unlawful force,Ž despite strongly qualifying resistance for the sake of the peace of the public, and security of the governmentŽ (§ 204). Lockes emphasis on the law over any form of personal rule lays at the foundation of the present-day understanding of the rule of law and the modern, liberal police. Lockes solution, however, is not without problems. For instead of replacing personal rule with the rule of law, as it promises, his argument accommodates these opposite principles in a precarious balance. Thus, amidst his highly rational system of individual rights and laws, Locke acknowledges the monarchical privilege of not being accountable to the law and accepts for princes or monarchs to be defined as sacred, [and] ƒnot liable to force, or any judicial censure or condemnationŽ (§ 205). Through this statement, Locke seems to recognize the need for sovereign power and excludes the prince from the law. But yet, he continues, opposition may be made to the illegal acts of any inferior officer or other commissioned by him.Ž If in this passage Locke does not


76 question the princes sovereign power, he attempts to limit its effective exercise with the law. He makes the law exempt the prince, but subject everyone else, for anyone below the sovereign is accountable for his deeds before the law. If citizens cannot but obey the commands of the law and are impeded from obeying anything but legal rules, then at least in theory the king would have his or her sovereign prerogative neutralized. The monarch can give us sovereign orders, but we can obey only those that are legal. Thus, sovereign power does not disappear but seems to become useless. Since Locke cannot eliminate sovereign power, he attempts to neutralize it. Accordingly, no monarchical privilege justifies for him those who use unjust force, though they pretend a commission from him [the king], which the law authorizes not.Ž Otherwise, he argues, the monarch would be putting himself into a state of war with his, people, dissolve the government, and leave them to that defence which belongs to every one in the state of natureŽ (§ 205). What then should be the role of personal rule? Discussing the origin of political societies, Locke recuperates the notion of moderate sovereigntyŽ (§ 108). Found in simple, poor, societies, where kings are mostly generals of their armies; and though they command absolutely in war, yet at home and in time of peace they exercise very little dominion,Ž moderate sovereign power appears compatible with the rule of the people and the law. As good as it sounds, the concept of moderate sovereigntyŽ is inconsistent. It belongs in the concept of sovereignty to be absolute (Bodin, Hobbes, Rousseau, Schmitt), and no qualifier can either limit absolute power or make absolute a power that is not. If a king enjoys limited power, it is because sovereignty resides with someone else or with other institution such as a council. But there is more: Locke does accept that a society places their monarch above the law. He


77 only insists that illegal acts of any inferior officer, or other commissioned by himŽ should not be tolerated (§ 205). No doubt Locke attempts to limit sovereign power with the law. However, since his critique is not radical and he does not undermine the theoretical basis of personal rule, sovereignty remains haunting his system. It is difficult to see how the preservation of the discretionary power of a monarch cannot but undermine the rule of law. Moreover, Lockes solution stands as the puzzle that founds all modern political systems: If the monarch is accountable to the laws, then his power is not sovereign, and the law threatens to destroy the authority that founds it. But if the one who is entitled to exercise sovereign power is not made accountable to the laws, then can we really condemn others for obeying his (sovereign) orders, whether or not they are legal? Already in Locke, liberalism oscillates between legitimizing and attempting to limit state authority. This feature appears more clearly in later liberal political philosophers such as John Stuart Mill. In his essay On Liberty , Mill (1869) wonders about the proper limits of what may be called the functions of police,Ž and asks How far liberty may legitimately be invaded for the prevention of crime, or of accident. It is one of the undisputed functions of government to take precautions against crime before it has been committed, as well as to detect and punish it afterwards. The preventive function of government, however, is far more liable to be abused, to the prejudice of liberty, than the punitory function; for there is hardly any part of the legitimate freedom of action of a human being which would not admit of being represented, and fairly too, as increasing the facilities for some form or other of delinquency (p. 122). The liberal solution for state and police abuses is to limit power through the law. Liberalism proceeds through the legalizationŽ of government (Dean, p. 118). It carries the legalization of policing as well. By so doing, it denies police power. Heir of Locke,


78 the liberal argument chooses to overlook that the same law that it brandishes against both the police and the state has its foundation in sovereign power. The theoretical tensions between these principles translate for us, Lockes heirs, into quotidian dilemmas and dramas. The scarce resposiveness of liberal institutions to daily episodes of abuse by administrative and police apparatuses translate those theoretical tensions into personal tragedies for the individuals victimized by the state. The dominant understanding of the rule of law in studies of democratization relies on the Lockean view of power and the law. Lockes foundation of the liberal state is born defective, and most abuses of (police) power in present society may be re-traced to these originary riddles and to the Lockean solutions to them. How did the Lockean, liberal, understanding of law and power become dominant? Why was the Aristotelian understanding of law forgotten? Foucault identifies the liberal understanding of the rule of law as a weapon directed against the Aristotelian tradition. In his lectures delivered at the College of France during 1978-9, Foucault debunks the association between liberalism, democracy, and the rule of law celebrated by ODonnell and most of the current scholarship on democratization. As he puts it, Liberalism does not derive from juridical thought anymore than it does from an economic analysis. It is not the idea of a politial society founded on a contractual tie that gave birth to it; but in the search for a liberal technology of government, it appeared that regulation through the juridical form constituted a far more effective tool than the wisdom or moderation of the governorsŽ (Foucault, 1997, p.76). With the narrative of the rule of law, Foucault suggests, liberalism sought to displace the Aristotelian, phronetic , traditions of government, because they grounded the legitimacy of the monarch. Thus, against monarchical legitimacy, efforts were made to divide political power, to split it up, to set it against itselfŽ (Schwab, p. xvi). What the law offered to the liberal project, says Foucault, was forms of general intervention excluding


79 particular, individual, or exceptional measuresŽ that appeared more efficacious to regulate governance than the reliance on the classical wisdom or moderation of the governorsŽ (p. 76). Not theoretical, but merely political reasons seem to have lied behind the shift. If a new form of power requires new theoretical basis for its justification, liberalism found it in the law. Liberalism, the market, and the rule of law came to be associated by contingent, and always precarious, bonds, Foucault shows. There is no necessary, internal relation for Foucault between liberalism, law and representative democracyŽ (Dean, p. 120).16Foucault reconstructs liberalism as a technology of governmentŽ and shows the contingent character of its association with juridical thought and democracy: Despite the proliferation of codes, constitutions and laws, liberalism has no necessary affinity with lawŽ (Dean, p. 118). As Foucault argues, liberalisms multiple alliances with authoritarian regimes suggest no special bonds with the law or with democratic politics. Against liberalisms flaws, my study proposes to recuperate Aristotles understanding of the rule of law from a critical perspective. Locke vs. Aristotle Not Locke, but Aristotle seems to be the first philosopher that discusses the expression rule of law.Ž In Politics , Aristotle (Book III, §1287b) defines the law as reason unaffected by desireŽ and supports that the rule of law is preferable to that of any individual.Ž In the work of both Locke and Aristotle the rule of law stands for a synonym of impartial rule and arises in opposition to personal, arbitrary rule. In 16 As Foucault puts it, neith er the democracies of the state of right wereƒ necessarily liberal, nor was liberalism necessarily democratic or devoted to the form of lawŽ (p. 77).


80 particular, Aristotle considers that the law is key to promote good habits, and virtue with them, among the population.17The rule of law consists of treating equals equally.18But the current assimilation of democracy to the rule of law in studies of democratization has no solid ground. In the Nichomachean Ethics , Aristotle refers to laws as works of the political artŽ (Book X, §1181b), it is clear that the definition of who counts as equal is originally political, not juridical.19 Whereas Aristotle and Locke coincide in their preference for impartial rule, the Aristotelian understanding of the rule of law incorporates nuances and problems that liberalism, inspired in Locke, simply tends to miss or deny. This is for example the case of the need for epiekeia and phron sis , commonly translated as equity and prudence, which accompany Aristotles discussion of the law. As it is also the case of the need that Aristotle sees for certain laws to remain unwritten. 17 Legislators make their citizens good by habituation; this is the intention of every legislator, and those who do not carry it out fail of their object. This is wh at makes the difference between a good constitution and a bad oneŽ ( Ethics , Book 2, i). 18 Aristotle makes clear that only those naturally equal must be treated equally, for only those who are by nature equals must have the same natural right and worth.Ž As Agamben and Rancières accounts on Aristotle presented in chapter 3 suggest, equality is drawn against a background of naturalŽ inequality. Aristotle adds that for unequals to have an equal share, or for equals to have an uneven share, in the offices of state, is as bad as for different bodily constitution s to have the same food and clothing.Ž It seems not advisable to forget that, althou gh the Aristotelian notion of equity may to be interpreted in a democratic fashion, it has aristocratic origins. 19 In After the Revolution? Authority in a Good Society , Dahl (1990) poses the problem in clear terms: If we agree that by democracy we mean in some sense rul e by the people, we n eed to clarify not only what we mean by rule but also„and this is the aspect mo st often overlooked„what we mean by the people. For by the way in which we defin e the people we shall automatically dete rmine the way in which they can rule; and by the way in which we define rule we sha ll necessarily set some bounds on how the people can be constitutedŽ (p. 45). Although the definition of the demos seems to be the fundamental political problem, for it defines who counts and who does not, Dahl concludes that there is no theoretical solution to the puzzle, but on ly pragmatic ones.Ž To date, full inclusiveness has been achieved nowhere. It is the task of the political to define who are included as equal s, and, as both Agamben and Ranciere argue, such definition is ultimately contingent.


81 In his Nichomachean Ethics , Aristotle identifies a defective aspect of law that arises from its universal character. All law is un iversal,Ž he says; however, there are some things about which it is not possible to pronounce rightly in general termsŽ (§1137b). The problem lies not in the law, says Aristotle, but in the nature of the case,Ž which the legislators (necessarily) general formulation could not foresee. This is why the achievement of justice requires both just laws and equity. Aristotle defines equity20 as a rectification of law in so far as law is defective on account of its generality.Ž While the law covers the majority of cases,Ž especial circumstances require an adaptation of the law to fit them; this is what is achieved through special ordinancesŽ inspired by equity. As Reeve puts it, equity ( epieikeia ) is needed to negotiate between universal law and the particular caseŽ (p. 77). Aristotle judges that equity is superiorŽ to (legal) justice, for it consists of a rectification of legal justic eŽ that is just but may not seem legally justŽ (§1137b). Since the law can only consider the majority of cases,Ž Aristotle identifies the need for equity to accommodate especial circumstances and judges equitable practices the truly realization of justice. Furthermore, he characterizes gn m or (sympathetic) judgment as the faculty of judging correctly what is equitableŽ (Book 6, xi). Hence, the realization of justice requires both the law and its rectification through equity. But it also seems to demand that certain laws remain unwritten. Thus, in his Rhetoric , Aristotle distinguishes between written and unwritten laws. He classifies the law in either special or general.Ž Especial laws are written and they regulate the life of 20 MacIntyre proposes to translate epiekeia for reasonableŽ (p. 119), whi ch he thinks captures better Aristotles description of a kind of ju stice which corrects that justice whic h would consist in the application of already laid down rulesŽ (p. 120). In any case, Aristotle is clear on that the irregular shapeŽ of specific circumstances requires the adaptative role of epieikeia (equity, or corrective and reasonable justice) for justice to be achieved.


82 a particular communityŽ (1368b). Under the category of general law,Ž Aristotle groups instead all those unwritten principles which are supposed to be acknowledged everywhereŽ and that he assimilates to the law of NatureŽ (1368b, p. 2178). He refers to Antigones justification of the burial of Polyneices as an illustration of universal, natural laws (§1373b). This ultimate incommensurability of law with particular circumstances appears to Aristotle also as the reason why everything is not regulated by law.Ž Aristotle identifies two classes of unwritten laws . The first type arises from an excess of virtue and viceŽ that no written law can convey. They comprise exceptional goodness or badness,Ž which cannot be regulated by the written law but tend to be met instead with censure and loss of honourŽ or praise and increase of honour and decorationsŽ (1374a). That cases as disparate as mass annihilations and altruism (such as when individuals offer their own lives to save strangers) tend to occur outside the law gives support to the Aristotelian idea that extreme good and evil exceed formal regulation. The second class of non-written laws express for Aristotle things omitted by the specific and written lawŽ that are necessary for its application (Abizadeh 267). Far from being a contingency, these non-written rules are embedded in the structure of the law. Otherwise, laws would not be applicable, because their universal nature would not correspond to the always unique circumstances that they regulate. The equity regulated only by unwritten laws bids us be merciful to the weakness of human natureŽ or the wrongdoing that is caused by mistakes, misjudgment, or chance. Equity makes possible for people to think less about the laws than about the man who framed them, and less about what he said than about what he meant; not to consider the actions of the accused


83 so much as his intentions, nor this or that detail so much as the whole story; to ask not what a man is now but what he has always or usually been.Ž The exercise of equity in the realm of the unwritten allows us to be sympathetic, patient, tolerant, merciful, and to trying to solve disputes through negotiation and arbitration, says Aristotle.21 Equity is then necessary to compensate for particular situations that the written law cannot foresee. The defects of a community's written code of lawŽ tend to be smoothed and corrected by interpretations and usage, which Aristotle associates with equity, which he judges the sort of justice which goes beyond the written lawŽ (1374b). Whether the law is written or unwritten, equity relies on the law. But there is other kind of activity which may involve the application of rules to instances, but which is not itself rule-governedŽ (MacIntyre, 1988, p. 117): phron sis .22The exercise of discretionary power requires both, equity and phron sis , which involve practical forms of judgment and relate to ultimates or particularsŽ (Aristotle, §1143ª32). In fact, the whole area of life with which phron sis is concerned can be characterized as that in which epiekeia is requiredŽ (MacIntyre, p. 120). While Aristotle recognizes that it is preferable to be governed by law than by mens caprices, and judges good laws essential for our habituation into virtuous forms of life (Aristotle, §1103b6; Reeve, pp. 51-5; MacIntyre, pp. 114,127), the philosopher presents the law as a normative blueprint for the good exercise of government oriented by 21 Aristotles discussion of written and unwritten laws conveys a sense th at the foundational norms that keep society together lie in the unwritten: The better sort of man will be just without being fo rced to be so, and the written laws depend on force while the unwritten ones do notƒ the crime is wo rse which breaks the written laws; for the man who commits crimes for which terrible penalties are provided wil l not hesitate over crimes for which no penalty is provided at all.--So much, then, for the com parative badness of wro ngdoingŽ (§13 75a24). 22Phron sis is commonly defined as practical wisdom,Ž prudence, or common sense. The examination of discretion in chapter 6 presents a de tailed account of this notion.


84 phron sis, prudence, or practical wisdom. Having good laws is then as important as exhibiting the virtues that promote their good application, among which phron sis is the leading one. Hence, as Leslie Paul Thiele comments, Aristotles man of practical wisdom, the phronimos ƒis observant of principles and, at the same time, open to their modificationŽ (pp. 7-8). In the Aristotelian perspective, the law and the personal element involved in its application do not seem to oppose each other. Rather, they bridge the distance between the universal and the particular. The Aristotelian understanding of law acknowledges its structural limitations and includes the elements needed to compensate for it. It appeals to phron sis in the ones who decide. Whereas law and judgment define a complex ensemble in the Aristotelian political philosophy, liberalism reduces this complexity of government to law only. Employed in isolation, the concept of the rule of law apprehends the reality of government very poorly and reduces it to formal and mechanical processes. Locke and liberals after him have deprived the rule of law from its Aristote lian body and have turned it into a formalistic tool. The virtue, judgment, prudence, and experience that administering the law involve for Aristotle were also lost in the name of limiting the personal element in the exercise of power. Can this loss be justified as a victory of democracy? No, for the liberal rule of law is systematically blind to the forms of authoritarianism that flourish under liberal democracy. Since most of democratization suffers from these problems, my study takes the Aristotelian understanding of law as an inspiration to explore forms of democratizing the exercise of police discretion. Seen in light of police discretion, Aristotles discussion of epiekeia and phron sis and his argument on the unwritten law provide a productive


85 framework for revisiting the ethical and political puzzles involved by the exercise of discretionary judgment, which constitutes the subject of chapter 6. Democracy and the Democratization of Policing The current democratic impulse around the world recognizes little precedent. Dahl (1990) identifies only two previous similar drives before. Democracy first developed in Ancient Greece, then in the Italian city-states during the middle ages. Both experiences were limited in scope. Clientage, invaders, dictators, and monarchies engulfed them. The idea of democracy reappeared associated with radical politics in the 18th century. However, it only made its course to power in a hybrid form: as a project of elites. There is no univocal definition of democracy. Two main theoretical strands dispute its meaning in political science. Democracy, on the one hand, appears as a set of rules for the aggregation of interests in a game of competition between elites. Citizens do not govern themselves but choose representatives. This is commonly referred to as representative democracy. It is the form that inspires current liberal democracies. It shapes most political scientists idea of democracy. Others, mostly theorists, find this prevailing notion of democracy limited and not sufficiently democratic. Direct democracy, or a set of rules that allows citizens to govern themselves directly, seems more adequate to them. They take inspiration in experiences of direct democracy such as those developed in Athens in the times of Pericles. These theorists argue that participation is key to making polities and individuals democratic. Most political scientists do not take direct democracy seriously. However, historical experiences of direct democracy are central to the development of the democratic ideal. Direct democracy populates debates for and against democracy in the


86 field of political theory. These debates assess different models of democracy and open up to imagine new forms. Unless the military and police forces are under the full control of democratically elected officials„says Dahl„democratic political institutions are unlikely to develop or endureŽ (1998, p.148). Dahl judges the prospects for democracy dimŽ (p. 149) unless we turn policing into a democratic force. What does it mean, however, to turn policing democratic? These different understandings of democracy influence debates on the democratization of policing. Forms of Democracy and Democratization Is there a common core of what a democratic society should look like that makes supporters of representative and participatory forms of democracy agree? In theory, this should be the case. In practice, it is hard to tell. It all depends on how debates are framed. A canonical reference for those who support representative forms of democracy, Dahl (1990) distinguishes between committee democracy, primary democracy, referendum democracy, and representative democracyŽ (p. 58). He accounts for the passionate defense and attacks that these forms trigger among different peoples. Yet, he views none of these various forms of democracy as intrinsically better than anotherŽ (p. 59). Instead, Dahl argues that the best form of democracy must be defined according to the circumstances. The same can be argued about the democratization of policing. However, this pragmatic stand does not address what is that defines the core of a democratic experience. Among the four types of democracy identified by Dahl, the ones that periodically heat debates are just two, representative and committeeŽ or direct


87 democracy.23 How do these forms inspire our representations of democratic policing? This question requires retrieving first the terms of the debate between theorists. Dahl (1971, p.170) judges representative democracy the modern solution to the problem of how to combine democracy with the large state.Ž This model promotes to aggregate interests and represent them through political parties, between which citizens choose in free and competitive elections. This system presupposes a set of individual freedoms and guarantees, such as freedom of speech. In theory, all citizens have the possibility of becoming elected as representatives. Other than this, their participation is limited to periodic elections and extraordinary consultation ( i.e., referenda). This perspective values legitimacy and stability. It echoes Hobbes and Madisons concerns with the risk of tyranny of popular politics. Representative political institutions interpellate political subjects as individuals and dislike the idea of the people,Ž which they associate with factions. The people, in this perspective, should govern only through their representatives. Representative theories of democracy frequently use the market as the image that best represents political competition. The metaphor, rooted in both the work of Joseph Schumpeter (1943) and in the application of economic models to political analysis, compares citizens to customers. Schumpeter redefined democracy as an institutional arrangement for arriving at political decisions in which individuals acquire the power to decide by means of a competitive struggle for the peoples voteŽ (qtd. in Pateman, p. 4). It describes a competition of elites that has the people as spectators. This is the broad 23 In between the direct and representative variants, Dahl identifies referendum democracy.Ž The latter consists of the group elabor ation and presentation of a proposal to all the members of the association.Ž Different groups present differen t proposals, and all the members of the association choose between them.

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88 understanding of democracy that dominates political science at large. It appears for example in definitions of democracy used in empirical research, such as the more than 550 definitions identified by Collier and Levitsky (1997). These definitions differ on the number of freedoms and guarantees and the type of contestation that are considered necessary to define a society as democratic. The authors define democracy as fully contested elections with full suffrage and the absence of massive fraud, combined with effective guarantees of civil liberties, including freedom of speech, assembly and associationŽ (p. 433). Scholars who endorse representative forms see elite competition and elections as the essential feature of democracy. Liberal democracies and their professionalized police forces are institutions promoted by this view of democracy. But is not there more to democracy than elections and party systems? Some theorists who argue that the core of democracy lies in participation. Peoples participation constituted the gist of the critique of representative democracy developed during the 1960s and the 1970s. Carole Pateman (1970) stands as one of its most important exponents. As well as Arendt, Pateman exposes the conservative roots of theories of democratic representation. She highlights the anti-democratic character of their elitism and their disdain for the people. In Patemans view, real democracy requires participation (p. 102). She shares Jean Jacques Rousseaus argument that sovereignty is both inalienable and non-representable. She coincides with John Stuart Mill on the intrinsic worth of participation. She recuperates the tradition of participatory democracy in the workplace developed in the former Yugoslavia and theorized by G. D. H. Cole. Pateman identifies forms of direct or quasi-direct democracy that integrate both the political arena and the workplace.

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89 The rationale is straightforward. Pateman sees that participation in collective decisions is transformative of the self. It helps us define our ideas and selves. Participative experiences foster our learning to listen and respect others, to share opinions, to debate, to recognize our mistakes, to make and refine our arguments. It is only through participation that we learn democracy,Ž she says (p. 31). It is the only way for us to become democratic subjects. If it may be difficult to establish, once emplaced participatory forms of democracy become self-sustainingŽ (p. 25).24The value of participation seems to be in the rise in recent studies of democratization. In its new forms, studies seem to retrieve the core of Patemans ideas. Studies of new democracies such as Nicaragua and Argentina serve to illustrate the two dimensions of Patemans argument, for they show how to strengthen democracy in the polity and the workplace. Along these lines, Leslie Anderson and Lawrence Dodd (2005) find strong democratic commitments developing among Nicaraguan citizens. The case of Nicaragua serves them to illustrate the learning potential of collective trauma and the democratizing possibilities of revolutionary processes. For the authors argue that not only people can learn democracy, but that they can learn it fast. Political mobilization and mass participation through social revolution can foster a capacity for civic engagement by 24 Other political philoso phers such as Arendt coincid e in questioning the elitist element of representative democracies. There are no thing such as demo cratic elites, she suggests, for eliteŽ connotes oligarchy. Arendts appreciation for th e political seems more suited to particip atory forms. Through her work, the political is one of the activities that make our lives meaningful. The political demands personal engagement with others in action. It involves words, action, and gathering toget her. The political is an activity worthy in itself. The political means action, not representation. How could the competition of political parties allow for that? Arendt sees the modern invention of po litical parties as antagonistic to democracy. Instead of representing peoples interests, parties use the people to advance the agendas of the fe w. The party system, Arendt says, replaces the formula government of the people by the people by this formula: government of the people by an elite sprung from the people Ž (p. 281).

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90 citizens in the absence of centuries-long experience with civic associationsŽ (p. 35), the authors say. Their views also challenge positions that predict the impossibility to develop a democratic culture in poor countries. If citizensƒbelieve in their own participatory power„a belief that may come not only through slow historical evolution but amidst rapid social revolution, egalitarian restructuring and mass literacy„then an inclusive process of democratization may proceed rapidly once the nation embarks on the use of free and fair elections (p. 34). Similarly, recent studies of recuperated factoriesŽ in Argentina (Magnani, 2004; Godio, 2004; Klein, 2003/4) suggest that crises may generate incentives to create democracy in the workplace.25How can this perspective and cases like these influence perspectives on the democratization of policing? The transformative features of participatory democracy lie behind citizen/denizen involvement in both state and non-state sponsored forms of policing. The Zwelethemba model, the Peruvian rondas campesinas, and popular fora of control of state policing that I present in chapter 3 all illustrate these participatory perspectives. After Patemans, one of the most influentia l works in this tradition appeared with Laclau and Mouffe in the 1980s. Like Pateman, they value the transformative potential of participation. But their project of radical democracyŽ arises also from recognizing the contingency of the social and political realms. Taking inspiration on Gramsci, Lacan, Derrida, feminism, and other new social movements,Ž Laclau and Mouffe argue that radical democracy is the best form of governing our incomplete, fragmentary, contingent, and changing selves. Their model of radical democracy draws on the recognition of the 25 For a discussion of earlier experiences of worker self-management, see Verba and Shabad and Pateman.

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91 multiplicity of social logics along with the necessity of their articulationŽ (p. 188). In Mouffes words, the challenge for radical democracy is to transform antagonism into agonismŽ (p. 117), or aggression into negotiation. Anna Marie Smith highlights the uniqueness of Laclau and Mouffes theory for how it synthesizes two apparently contradictory goalsƒunity and autonomyŽ (p. 30). Their conception of radical democracy seeks the constitution of a weŽ through dialogue, negotiation, and agreement, without being subjugated into sameness. Laclau and Mouffe assume a peculiar position before representative democracy. Instead of boldly opposing it, the authors explore the possibilities for its radicalization. Indeed, they see the democratic project as the attempt drawn on an egalitarian imaginaryŽ to progress through a logic of the elimination of relations of subordination and of inequalitiesŽ (p. 188). The latter should not be interpreted as the homogenization of society. Certainly, some relations of subordination or inequality may be legitimate even in a democratic society. This is for example the case of teacher/student or doctor/patient relationships. In these examples, inequality is either provisory ( i.e., teacher/student) or specific to a situation ( i.e., doctor/patient). What the radical imaginary does not tolerate is structural, permanent, relations of subordination or inequality that place some beings in a permanently inferior position. Dahl presents the classical argument against direct democracy, starting with its impracticability. It is easy to see that this form of democracy can exist only among a very small number of peopleŽ (p. 52). Forms of representation solve this problem, he says. For they allow us to maximize the probabilities that our opinions are considered. Instead of trying unsuccessfully to have our voices heard in large assemblies, we choose

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92 someone who shares our views to speak on our behalf. This is representative democracy (p. 55). Dahl credits Rousseau as the best theorist of participatory democracy. He also judges his argument flawed and his theory of direct democracy unrealistic (p. 63). Furthermore, he questions Rousseaus neglect of Hobbessian and Madisonian concerns with factions, which as those authors Dahl sees always arising in direct forms of democracy (p. 64). Despite his attempt to appear impartial in the debate, Dahl shows his teeth. He presents contemporary theorists of participatory democracy as uninformed and naïve emulators of ancient traditions.26 It is true that radical democrats evoke the past. It is not true that they ignore their own ancestors. The first part of Patemans book refutes Dahls charge. The debate between these two main understandings of democracy continues. One celebrates democracy but distrusts the people. The other argues that there can be no democracy without the people. In terms of the democratization of policing, these debates reappear as a defense of professionalism vs. support for peoples engagement with their own policing. Tropes of professionalism assimilate police officers to professional politicians who know betterŽ the interests of their constituencies than the people themselves. Those influenced by radical democratic perspectives argue for the need that people themselves define their needs and priorities. The intrinsic value of participation is also highlighted. The present study subscribes to the latter. I have already anticipated my argument that democratizing policing requires democratizing its unregulated, 26 The most recent revisitation of the vision was during the 1960s when it revealed itself to some elements of the New Left who, not realizing ho w much they were merely restating a very ancient tradition, insisted tat people who are affected by decisions have the right to pa rticipate directly in making those decisions. Their demand for participatory democracy was simply a renewed assertion of Rousseaus insistence that he only legitimate source of authority is primary demo cracyŽ (Dahl, 1990, p. 62).

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93 discretionary, aspects. The latter can be achieved only through the judgment that comes from experiencing democratic practices and being exposed to narratives promoting them. Chapters 4, 5, and 6 develop this argument further. Ian Budge (1996) is one of the many theorists who respond to Dahls criticisms against direct democracy.27 He perceives a trend of arguments against direct democracy to develop into arguments against democracy as such (p. 2). Instead, Budge explores the possibility offered by new technologies such as the Internet to expand democratic procedures. The author contends that our technological world has made direct democracy technically possibleŽ (p. 1). How can this discussion contribute to democratize policing? The use of the net provides us with the possibility to eliminate the darkest aspect of the police, namely the secret police. Software programs such as COMPSTAT, only used by the police by now, permit to gather information in real time on episodes of crime. No doubt the extension of these procedures among police forces would contribute to diminish police corruption and the crime that is tolerated to informers. If terminals were also accessible to the people, criminal intelligence could make progress toward its democratization. Mark Warren (1996, p. 242) goes a step further in the debate between radical and representative democracy. He presents a thoughtful and productive critique of both models of democracy in an era of globalization of markets, trade blocs, migrations, 27 Budge notices that the Athenian democracy tends to be used with anti-d emocratic purposes. Critics evoke ancient Athens, he says, only to point to the exclusionary features of ancient democracy. They remind us that it was based upon slav ery. They indicate, as Dahl does, that th e millions of citizens of present-day democracies have no material possibilities to gath er in meetings. They promptly conclude that representative democracy is the only viable form for a democratic polity. Budge refutes Dahls argument of impracticability by showing how new tech nologies can be turned into tools for direct democracy. Yet, can new technologies solve the rudimentary problem identified by Dahl, namely that only a limited number of speakers who can physically speak in a certain time? We should certainly explore all alternatives that seem to ease participation without denying their problems.

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94 environmental destruction, and so-called collective security arrangements.Ž Warren questions liberalisms treatment of identities as fixed. Their reifying conceptions of identity make liberals miss the transformative possibilitiesŽ of participation, he argues. As Pateman, Laclau, Mouffe, and others, Warren highlights the capacity of democratic procedures to increase autonomy. Participation allows us to develop reflexivity. If democracy means anything, Warren says, it is that individuals are empowered to interpret their own needs and interests and to speak and act on behalf of their own selfunderstandingsŽ (p. 264). Democratic practices can make us more tolerant, and more virtuous,Ž better persons. The values and practices promoted by theorists of radical democracy seem especially suited to shape the use of police discretion. These ideas should be the ones that inspire programs of community policing. Under radical democratic auspices, community policing could truly become what it promises to be, this is a police project committed with democracy. But we should also consider Warrens criticisms to the radical democratic approach, whose excessive romanticism he questions.28 Too high expectations, says Warren, frequently lead radical democrats to overlook other goods brought by democracy. Among these other goods, Warren highlights the institutional authorityŽ that arises from democratic engagements. Authority is not a traditionally democratic trope; however, democracy relies on it more than any other system. In a 28 He finds three of their assumptions especially problematic, starting with the belief that democracy fosters harmonic communities. Second, he questions th e premise that democratic participation is attractive activity, one that people would naturally choose if on ly they had the opportun ityŽ (p. 243). Warren judges this assumption a romantic dogma,Ž and proposes to get rid of it. Instead, he invites us to acknowledge that many people may not feel attracted to participat e, and finds it legitimate. Differen tly from most radical democrats, Warren finds acceptable that people see democracy as just the least unattractive way of organizing power in the face of c ontest.Ž Finally, he suggests that ra dical democrats tend to exaggerate on the goods generated by participation. Ulti mately, he reminds us of that democracy is not an expression of community, but a respon se to conflictŽ (p. 256).

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95 radical democracy authority would not disappearŽ (p. 260), he says. It would just be different. Warren imagines it specific, limited, pluralized, and contestable.Ž Acknowledging the contingent status of authority seems necessary to Warren to make democratic authority stronger, which is suggested to him by the precariousness of authority in authoritarian and totalitarian regimes. These aspects are addressed not by radical democrats but by theorists of representative democracy. Warrens criticisms are especially relevant to discussions on the democratization of policing. Why? Because, as much as one may underline the intrinsic value of participation, people may legitimately not be interested in getting themselves directly involved in policing. Policing ad democratic society allows for a diversity of combinations of diverse forms of policing that my study presents and assesses in chapter 3. As I have anticipated, the major theses and objections presented in this sub-section reappear in discussions on the democratization of policing. Let us see what principles they inspire, and how they have been interpreted so far. Democratizing Policing Trevor Jones, Tim Newburn, and David J. Smith (1996, p. 182) examine the ways in which the idea of democracy is applied to policing. At least in relation to policing, democracy appears as a slippery concept,Ž say the authors. For most of police reform is theoretically justified by reference to one democratic principle or another.Ž With a focus on the British society, the authors identify three main strategies of police reform inspired by conceptions of democracy that tie into those reviewed in the previous section. The first understanding of democracy that the authors see influences discussions of policing emphasizes the need to strengthening local democracyŽ (p. 188). In practical terms, it proposes decentralizing police power and making the police entirely elective

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96 bodies.Ž Jones, Newburn, and Smith (p. 189) note that this position stresses the value of elections and the need for responsiveness to the community.Ž We can identify a combination of the liberal emphasis on com petition and elections, with the radical democratic trope of small, local communities. The second model that they describe is what they call community democracy.Ž This form of approaching police reform is clearly drawn from the radical democratic imaginary and was theorized by T. Jefferson and R. Grimshaw. It incorporates concerns with the rights of minorities and the poor. It proposes to create elective police commissionsŽ that would make decisions together with the police. The model presents schools, offices, community centers, and factoriesŽ as natural pointsŽ for people to meet, discuss, and make decisions affecting police policy. The third model of inspiration for police reform advanced in Britain takes inspiration from the market. It assimila tes democracy to competition in the market, and proposes to advancing managerial criteria of service satisfaction and accountability. We can clearly recognize a Schumpeterian notion of democracy behind these proposals. Managerial models promote the use of surveys to identify the publics demands. They advance criteria to judge productivity as in the firm ( i.e., monthly number of cased solved or arrests). Inspired by the literature on democratic transitions, Neild (1999) describes the process of democratization of policing in four steps. Her description departs from scenarios of authoritarian rule that resort to forms of regime policing,Ž to preserve the interests of the particular government or regime.Ž At a certain point, she says, opposition to the regime arises. Cases of police abuse and violence made known by Human Rights

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97 organizations create room for a change. Sooner or later, political activity gains room. This dynamics lead to elections that start a democratic transition begins. Neild recognizes a general trend for new democracies to having to appease the military first. But the police tend not to be affected during these first phases of democratic transition. These authoritarian police organizations lie behind large number of uncivil democracies around the world today.Ž Neild sees that the third moment opens with the realization that police structures and policing practices drawn from regime policingŽ are unable to maintain order and prevent crime in a democratic setting. This is the point in which democracy is in danger, because of the temptation for many governments to embrace authoritarian patterns of policing that threaten the fragile and limited advances made by democratic transitions.Ž Neild characterizes the final stage of democratization of policing for the active effort to reform public security institutions and policies and seek a new model of democratic citizen securityŽ (p. 42). But for most countries this step appears just in the horizon. Blueprints In 1979 the United Nations put together a Code of Conduct for Law Enforcement Officials.Ž Initiatives like this have multiplied in recent years, also under the sponsorship of Human Rights and other non-governmental organizations. In 1997, Das and Marenin organized a seminar with police representatives from thirteen countries. They draw seven principles of democratic policing. Participants agreed that democratic policing should include respect for the rule of law, accountability to the public, transparency of decision making, popular participation in policing, minimum use of force, creating an organization that facilitates learning of civil and human rights, and internal democracy in the organizationŽ (Can, 2003, p. 78; Das, 1997; Marenin, 1998, p. 166; Neild, 1999,, p. 42).

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98 In Governing Security , Johnston and Shearing (2003) present two opposite principles that inspire state and non-state forms of policing. They call them punishment and problem-oriented policing. Punishment focuses on enforcement and the use of coercion and involves two main dimensions. First, they apply pain to the body in order to change the will and, by so doing, encourage the subject (human or animal) to act in ways that comply with the rulers objective. Second, they constrain bodies so that they are unable to be deployed as instruments of the will, and by so doing, prevent them from ating in ways which contravene the rulers objective (p. 52). Instead, problem-oriented policing emphasizes prevention and negotiation, by for example coordinating the use of space and time in a neighborhood in such a way that the enjoyment of entertainment and leisure time by the youth do not disturb the sleep of adults (p. 72). Despite the expansion of police policy inspired on the problem-oriented approach, mostly in established democracies, the coercive/punishment orientation has proven remarkably resilientŽ (p. 54), say the authors. The reliance of this approach on the administration of force and pain to achieve obedience makes Johnston and Shearing see it as an expression of the mentality and technology of the Hobbesian paradigm of rule,Ž not quite compatible with peoples self-governance. Jones et al. (1996, p. 190) draw principles for the democratic governance of policing. They elaborate on both their review of democratic theory and the three contending models of democratic policing that they identify in Britain. These principles are equity, delivery of service, responsiveness, distribution of power, information, redress, and participation.Ž Similarly, Can proposes to use the following variables to assess the democratization of policing: Centralization/decentralization, representativeness, community policing, problemoriented policing, the presence of ombudsmen, legislative, executive, or judicial oversight, civilian complaint boards, civilian oversight by nongovernmental

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99 organizations, internal police control, effective disciplinary structure, advanced use of technology for the investigations of crimes, unionism, and use of force and human rights training (p. 86). Can also proposes to consider the transparency of the police administrationŽ and the role of the media in fostering democratic practices of policing.29 The identification of principles of democratic policing is an important step. However, their interpretation opens up for different possibilities. For despite a wide diversity of police arrangements, forms of organization and structure, a key feature that unifies all of them is the presence of police discretion. Police officers discretionary judgment constitutes the last link in the chain of governance and may redefine a regime as authoritarian or democratic. Chapter 5 and 6 discuss them. Conclusion This chapter began by reviewing what the literature in comparative politics has to offer for the study of the democratization of policing. After reviewing canonical references in the field, it is striking the lack of attention that scholars have devoted to policing. The most puzzling case is Huntingtons extensive discussion of order with no reference to the police. However, the balance is far from being negative. Authors such as Skocpol, Olson, Scott, or Tilly offer valuable insight. The character of police power, its bonds with the state, and virtuous or vicious gamesŽ involved in policing are some of the aspects that they bring to light. Recent comparative works that focus on the effects of policing and organized crime for new democracies (Mehlum et al. , 2002; Volkov, 2000) draw very productively on their intuitions. 29 The role of the media in making the police accountable are many. I mentioned the role placed by the press in Argentina in account of cases such as María Soledad Morales, Sebastián Bordón, or José Luis Cabezas. Also in the United States the media deserves to be credited for its support of Frank Serpicos allegations of corruption in the NYPD.

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100 The chapter went on to consider the literature on policing, democratization, and the rule of law, which also presents varied and mixed achievements. Recent research is bringing the challenges of policing to democratization to light. Yet most works reproduce assumptions that act as obstacles for deepening democratization. The dominant understanding of the rule of law is neither clearly democratic (as many scholars claim) nor adequate to grasp the character of state and police power (for it denies sovereignty). Problematic since its inception in the work of Locke, it does not advance what it promises„rights and democracy„but just denies what it fears„authoritarian and arbitrary rule. Thus, it attempts to exorcise sovereign power with the law, presents a legalistic understanding of power, and conceives of the police as an auxiliary force of the judiciary in charge of enforcing the law. In this respect, the concept has turned into an epistemological obstacle that places limitations in our understanding of the police and policing. The progress of democracy requires the democratization of policing. But the democratization of policing entails much mo re than subjecting the police to the government.Ž This recurrent image draws on an inadequate assimilation of the police to the military. The last section recuperates different understandings of democracy. It shows how they influence our ways of conceiving the democratization of policing. The present study draws theoretically on radical democratic theories. However, it agrees with authors such as Warren in appreciating the contributions of liberal democratic schemes to democratization. Finally, this chapter sought to present discussions and concepts that polemically nurture my own research. The question of the democratization leads us beyond these

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101 debates and poses the challenge to democratize the use of discretion by the police. The police are themselves a major dimension of the government, the immediate face of the government that most of us meet every day. By exercising discretion, they exercise judgment and sovereign power. The exercise of discretion occurs in the interstices that arise either from what the law does not explicitly regulate, or from the need to accommodate a particular case to the available regulations. Therefore, the law can redefine the limits of discretion but it cannot regulate its exercise. What does instead influence the exercise of discretionary judgment? The next chapters address these themes one by one. Chapter 3 reviews major historical patterns of policing, chapter 4 reconstructs the concept of policing in the canon of Western political theory, chapter 5 examines police narratives, and chapter 6 focuses on the structure of police power as seen in the light of discretion and the state.

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102 CHAPTER 3 HISTORICAL FORMS OF POLICING Policing is ubiquitous in human society. One would be hard-pressed to find a society where interpersonal relations were regulated either wholly privately or without recourse to physical force. In modern Europe, police agencies antedate most other institutions. (David Bayley, 1975, p. 239) Are professionalized police forces the best form to police a democratic society?1What available options do we have to make policing consistent with democratic practices? Policing involves the possibility of using coercion to make individuals follow the rules defined as legitimate within a group. It may be done by the government; it may involve specialized functions such as preventing and fighting crime by an organized police force, a disciplined, professional corpsŽ (Hunter, 1994, p. 3); or it may rely on mechanisms of social control dispersed throughout societyŽ (p. 4). If we consider these dimensions involved in the concept, it is hard to find a society that does not have some form of policing. While nation states cannot survive without policing, practices of policing can be performed by non-state actors (Bayley and Shearing, 1996). Policing existed in societies without states and it is still performed by stateless populations. Policing follows the forms of organization and exercise of power within a community or group. The transnationalization of capital has brought corporate forms of policing with it. These different forms of policing have coexisted and continue to coexist ( i.e., state 1 Democratizing policing requires revising entrenched na rratives that confine policing to the modern police. Accordingly, the histor ical review of policing advanced in this chapter questi ons political scientists disregard of forms of policing other than the modern st ate police. My argument sh ows that the examination of the links between democratic practices and policin g requires considering al so non-state forms of policing. This chapter makes a contribution to enlarging our horizons in rethinking policing.

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103 police, commercial policing, self-help forms of policing, policing based on clientage). In any of these forms, it constitutes a key organ of government, as we will see in chapter 4. This chapter identifies main forms through which policing has been performed through history to assess the potential of different forms to support democratic forms of power. The examination of alternative forms of policing in this chapter serves three connected purposes. First, it seeks to identify different modalities through which policing has been done. For there is more to policing than the police, as both history and the coexistence of state and non-state forms of policing in the present suggest (Marenin, 1996, p. 309ss.; Shearing, 1996, pp. 291-5; Loader, 2000). Second, it assesses the possibilities of these different forms to accommodate democratic relations of power. The current worldwide pluralization of policingŽ (Loader, 2000), visible in the dramatic expansion of private police, challenges us with taking democratization beyond the state. Furthering democratization requires us to debate about the kind of order that must be policed and maintained,2as well as to reorganize all forms of policing along democratic lines. Third, it aims to enlarge our possibilities to imagine policing beyond its current reification into the modern, professionalized, police. The recuperation of alternative traditions of policing in this chapter seeks to inform the new storiesŽ that Shearing (1995, qtd. in Marks, 2000, p. 559). judges crucial for the democratization of policing and that this study argues shape the exercise of police power. 2What is considered orderly and di sorderly, or dangerous or criminal behavior varies across societies. As an illustration, Schwartz and Miller refer that murder was tolerated by Skimos as a private issue, unless the number of homicides went beyond normal.Ž Virginia Hunter (1994) shows that for Athenians murder was a private crime while adultery constitu ted a public offense. Similarly, societies developed diverse ways of dealing with what is defined as crime and disorder. Forms range from private control to communal methods of mediation or policing to the or ganization of specialized bodies.

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104 Considering questions of safety and the definition and maintenance of order through history from a broader perspective, one finds a multiplicity of forms of practicing policing. Within this broad picture, the modern police appear as just one of the possible forms of organization of policing practices. Practices of policing are practices of governance that mold the city and its citizens. In the long run, patterns of policing tend to be consistent with the form of regime that authorizes them and whose authority they constantly reenact. No political regime is able to endure without the support of forms of policing that recreate capillary forms of power coherent with the structure of the regime. The chapter is organized in three main sections. The first section presents historical and anthropological theories on the origins of policing. In section 2, I advance a classification of forms of policing. Policing assumes a diversity of forms. I propose to categorize policing into the following types: citizen (or denizen) self-policing, clientage, private policing, and state policing. I characterize each form of policing in its past and current manifestations. Each of these categories defines sub-sections where I present and discuss cases from both the past and the present. The third section discusses current trends and challenges in policing, with especial reference to their consequences for democracy. Since hybridity and mixed forms are recurrent in the performance of policing, the challenge for us is to combine them in forms that enhance democratic life instead of undermining it. Origins of Policing Rudimentary forms of protection and policing appeared in most societies within the first agricultural and pastoral formations. Military historian Fuller (Fuller, 1954, p. 2) judges the need to securitize peoples and goods the factor that led villages in what is now the West to grow into walled cities, each becoming a small world of its own.Ž Within

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105 those walls, people had to maintain order and administer their laws. Did all societies have policing? How did they police themselves? Military and police organizations did not develop everywhere (Fabbro, 2001),3 Following insights by Emile Durkheim, Karl Marx, F. Engels, or Karl Polanyi, scholars such as Richard D. Schwartz and James C. Miller (1964) or Cyril Robinson and Richard Scaglion (1987) have studied the appearance and development of policing in history. While Schwartz and Miller discover loose legal and police evolutionary patterns, Robinson and Scaglion judge the unequal distribution of the surplus as the key factor that furthered the development of policing as a specialized function and alienated it from the people. But Schwartz and Miller seem to be pioneers of this kind of study. In the 1960s, they run a comparative study of legal organizations across simpler and more complex societies. The authors looked for the existence of counsel, mediation, and policeŽ (p. 163) in fifty-one societies. Counsel involves specialized assistance in the solution of conflicts by non-kin members (p. 161). Mediation consists of regular intervention by nonkin members with the same purpose, and police constitutes a specialized armed force used partially or wholly for norm enforcementŽ (p. 161). The authors contend that counsel, mediation, and police constitute evolutionary steps that follow the social division of labor (p. 167). The 11 most rudimentary societies studied by Schwartz and Miller had neither counsel nor mediation nor police. Eighteen cases had mediation only, such as the Navajo, the Formosan aborigines, and the Hottentot (p. 164). Both mediation 3 David Fabbro (p. 67) discusses cases of societies that do not engage in viol ence against other groupsŽ and do not maintain a standi ng military-police organization.Ž The cases he examines include the Sernai of Malaya, the Siriono of Eastern Bolivia, the Kung Bushmen of the Kalahari desert, the Mbuti Pygmies of equatorial Africa, the Copper Eskimo of Northern Ca nada, the Hutterites of North America, and the Islanders of Tristan de Cunha in the South Pacific.Ž

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106 and police existed in 11 cases, as for example among the Cheyenne, the Maori, or the Hopi. Seven societies exhibited all three institutions. These were the Cambodians, the Czechs, the Elizabethan English, the Indonesians, the Syrians, and the Ukrainians. Overall, Schwartz and Miller identified an evolutionary sequence of forms of administering justice (p. 160). They interpreted the survival of simpler institutions in combination with more complex ones ( i.e.,, mediation with policing), as remnants of their evolutionary sequence. Following the steps of Schwartz and Miller, Robinson and Scaglion explore the origins of the police as a specialized institutionŽ (p. 110). They reconstruct its development out of relations of clientage in the process of transformation of societies based on kinship into class societies with a state. This is the context of transformation of the police function in a specialized tool of class control. In their account, policing emerges linked to the appearance of surplus, specific ally to its private appropriation by warriors, administrators, and priests. From then on, policing epitomizes class domination. Class specific police functions are for instance imposing the chiefs orders, controlling the market, avoiding the withdrawal of those who do not consent with unequal rule, and forcing people to work (pp. 135-6). But only some aspects of policing are class specific, argue the authors (p. 124). Robinson and Scaglions argument illuminates the contrasts between universal, legitimate aspects of group regulation involved in policing and the class bound dimensions served by the police function. This distinction serves the authors to identify contradictory interests among those in charge of policing as well as transitional moments in which the police function still embodied the interest of the community. In its inception,

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107 practices of policing were developed to protect order in egalitarian arrangements of kinship. Then, they were appropriated by the ruling classes to serve their sectorial interests. But there is more to policin g than the protection of sectorial interests. The present study draws on these distinctions. Main police functions are class bounded, therefore they necessarily reproduce a hierarchical and unequal order. In these capacities, policing cannot be democratic. But those dimensions of policing that tie into the (re)production of normative patterns orienting life in common and the protection of life are legitimate and necessary in a democratic polity. They can be made compatible with democratic values and forms of organization, and support of a democratic order. Historical examples of police forces acting on behalf of the community mentioned by Robinson and Scaglion include the Plains indigenous peoples in North America. These communities created police associations mostly in occasion of hunts and used various methods to assign roles of official peacemakers of the communityŽ (p. 122). Also the Cheyenne developed communitarian forms of policing in the form of military associations committed to maintain the peace and administer justice. Among the Cheyenne, membership in military societies was voluntary and temporary, thus every man was guaranteed to form part of them at least once (p. 123). Cases like these allow us to think of order and policing in a non-hierarchical way. From Community to Clientage Why have people abandoned such egalitarian and fair methods? Robinson and Scaglion suggest that, after the emergence of surplus, crises of the kinship system laid the ground for clientage. The authors define clientage as a type of relationship that appeals to the legitimacy of the kinship only to undermine it. Clientage offers a substitute for kinship relations once they enter a crisis. Yet a vertical, asymmetrical, bond takes over

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108 the previous symmetry of the kinship and corrodes its remains. Through clientage, a hierarchical system of personal dependencyŽ (pp. 130-1) displaces the horizontal bonds of kinship. Robinson and Scaglion offer examples of how patron-client relations eroded kinship patterns in places as different as Perú or Ancient Scotland. They gather evidence from 181 societies suggesting that both the police function and the state originate in clientage.4 Patron-client relationships create the police at the same time that consolidate a class structure (p. 134). Besides their profuse use of examples, the authors test their hypotheses in light of the history of Great Britain. The history of the British peoples serves them to identify the appearance of policing as a specialized function in kinship societies, as well as main phases in the transformation of the police from communal to ruling class-state based. Robinson & Scaglion identify clientage as a step in an evolutionary path toward the development of professionalized police forces. I agree with their argument, if only with a caveat, for evolutionary patterns may be completely reversed or disrupted. Certainly, forms of policing seem to be shaped by the degree of social complexity of the scenarios where they emerge. Forms of policing corresponding to more complex social contexts 4 Policing and law enforcemen t in Ancient civilizations appear already structured in their repressive, class functions. In the Middle East, Hammurabi (1795-1750 BC) seems to be the first king to promulgating a systematic body of laws. He had hi s Code written in a black stone m onument, eight feet high, ƒ [that] clearly intended to be reared in public view.Ž Ham murabis laws combined organized revenge, tests of abilities ( i.e., to assume truthfulness from someone who does not drown when thrown into a river) and a search for balance between damage and compensation. If a man put out the eye of another man, his eye shall be put outŽ ( The Code of Hammurabi, 196). It is still not clear who was in charge of administering Hammurabis laws. It seems likely that people themselves were ch arged with its enfo rcement. The old books of the Bible also refer to the presence of watc hmen patrolling cities such as Babylon and Jerusalem (Solomon 3:3,5:7; Isaiah: 62:6; Jerem iah 51:12). In the Americas, the Ma yan civilization had among its lower public officers those called Tupiles, who were in charge of maintaining public order and overseeing the populations comp liance with the law ( Los Mayas. El Mundo Prehispánico . Universidad Autónoma de Yucatán, México. http :// yucatan/mayas4.html).

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109 tend to displace previous, simpler, modalities. However, as Schwartz and Miller suggest, simpler institutional arrangements may well survive in more complex settings. Simpler forms may be subordinated to new ones. Or they may well continue existing in the margins of society. The current dominance of state policing permits us to find both cases. For if the state regulates commercial policing, it cannot avoid the emergence of alternative forms of policing in territories that it does not completely dominate, as for example in isolate areas or shantytowns. Furthermore, whereas I praise Robinson and Scaglions insights on clientage, I think we should widen their scope beyond an evolutionary framework. They see clientage as the roots of class bound aspects of policing. They show how clientage creates hierarchical bonds of maintenance of order appealing to the legitimacy of the horizontal forms of power that it corrodes. But it also engulfs decaying states. Feudalism epitomizes clientage. It emerged out of the decadence of diverse forms of order and policing. It was replaced, to a substantial extent, by state policing. But clientage shows an extraordinary capacity to corrode all forms of policing as it did with kinship forms. The combination of evolutionary sequences with reversals and disruptions is what turns all forms of policing, even those that were left in the past, into alternatives for the future. As I see it, the challenge for us is to assess our possibility of accommodating them to democratic politics. This discussion is retrieved in the conclusion to this chapter. Let us now continue examining the historical development of policing. The Origins of the Modern Police Modern, state centered, forms of police have their deep roots in the decay of feudalism. Franz Knemeyer (1980) argues that the modern police arise from the need to control the poor. Theoretical references to policing and the police discussed in chapter 4

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110 of the present study support Knemeyers argument. He traces the emergence of police as an ad hoc attempt to recreate order in the disarray that resulted from the disarticulation of feudal estates (p. 178). The word Polizei was used in German territories already in the mid 15th century, denoting the existence of order within a community, says Knemeyer. Polizei was a feature that groups of people may or may not have (p. 174). In the 16thcentury, the word referred to both a particular community and the laws governing it to provide for good order (p. 177). Knemeyer also describes the emergence of practical Polizei ,Ž or a series of rules regulating different aspects of life, from clothing to rules of behavior. These rules sought to regulate activities as different as attending church or preparing and commercializing products in the market. The meanings acquired by Polizei indicate to Knemeyer the need of regulating through rules what the feudal order controlled before. Elaborating on Knemeyer, Mark Neocleous (2000) examines the modern police as key to the fabrication of orderŽ by the nation state. As he puts it, the modern police are a creature of the state, brought into being by the state and used by the state for purposes of social orderingŽ (p. 117). Neocleous identifies three phases of development of the modern police that correlate to the consolidation of the nation state. Police disposition first emerged with a negative and improvised role of repressing disorder and maintaining traditional customs through forms of emergency legislation.Ž From that more repressive role, police evolved during the seventeenth century toward a positive interventionist function centered on prevention and the achievement of good orderŽ (p. 5). This second moment coincides with the organization of Polizei staat or police statesŽ through Europe. The third phase recognized by Neocleous coincides with the organization of the modern

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111 professionalized police forces during the 19th century.5Neocleous sees the modern project of police reaching its peak during the 20th century with the Welfare State. In fact, the 1950s define the moment of major popularity of the police among the people, in the United Kingdom as elsewhere (Reiner, 1992). Neocleous equates the Welfare States expansion of state functions to the development of specialized branches ofƒpoliceŽ (p. 91). But only the beginning of the third phase identified by Neocleous is recognized as the origins of the modern police in most of the literature.6Liberal Myths Previous references to policing in this chapter may appear counterintuitive to the reader. For our present understanding of policing tends to assimilate it to state professionalized police forces. But this impression results from the somewhat reductive account of the police by liberal narratives. The scholarship on policing accounts for the organization of state professionalized police bodies only (Bayley, 1975; Mawby, 1990; Liang, 1992). References to policing in political science follow the same pattern. The creation of the London Metropolitan Police in 1829 by Sir Robert Peel constitutes the mythical milestone in most accounts. Neither previous experiences of policing nor arguments, such as Neocleous', on the expansion of the police under the Welfare State are generally taken into account to discuss policing. 5If the control of the subordin ate classes in general lies behind th e development of policing as a state function, the need to control the poor made it necessary in modern societies (Kn emeyer, 1980; Foucault, 1980; Neocleous, 2000). Modern police forces were or ganized to respond to the social transformations brought about by the Industrial Revolution. Modern factories put the means of production and raw materials in the hands of workers and created new occasions for theft. The police served to reduce thefts, the destruction of machines, and the ulterior political organizati on of workers (Foucault, 1971). 6 Views that assimilate policing to the modern professionalized police consecrate the Peelian model as their foundational moment.

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112 Dominant narratives on policing credit Peels model for the creation of professional police forces subjected to the liberal rule of law in the United Kingdom. Peel is also recognized as a major source of inspiration for the organization of professionalized state police across the world since the 19th century. The Peelian model is invoked as the source of inspiration of the Anglo-American decentralized forms of policing, which are said to consist of a professional, decentralized, and scarcely hierarchical force of officers committed to the rule of law. But the Peelian model is also credited for the modernization of Continental, hierarchical and centralized, forms of policing. These narratives also place the constitution of modern police forces in an assumed context of internal pacification achieved by Western industrial societies. After scholars such as Norbert Elias, we tend to believe in the civilizingŽ consequences of the monopolization of violence by the state, which Elias argues has forced individuals to restrain their own violence through foresight or reflectionŽ (qtd. in Johnson and Monkkonen, 1996, p. 4). The convergence of industrialization, urbanization and the organization of liberal states resulted, it is argued, in the withdrawal of the military from direct participation in the internal affairs of the stateŽ (Giddens, 1999, p. 192). The police appear as both an achievement and a symbol of civilization and democracy in the West. These narratives are deeply embedded in the orthodoxy of studies of democratization in comparative politics. They are more mythical than accurate, though.7 7 Overall, the consolidation of liberal democratic regimes has brought a re duction of murders by the state. But it did not diminish other forms of abuse and viol ence, especially against the poor. In his empirical assessment of the promise of democratic pacificationŽ (p. 539) , Christian Davenport finds that the number of murders by the state tend to diminish with democracy. But he also finds that democratization has no influence whatsoever on violent repressi onŽ (p. 552). In turn, historical studies of secul ar trends in violent crime also give only partial credit to these assumptions . Eric A. Johnson and Eric H. Monkkonen summarize historical findings on long trends in Europe. They find that violent crime has decreased over the last five centuriesŽ (Introduction 13) and that a major drop in viol ent crime in most countries took

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113 Linking modern police bodies to pacification, liberal democracy and the rule of law, these narratives overlook both shadowy, authoritarian, and violent aspects of the modern police project as well as a diversity of other forms of policing that coexisted„ and still coexist„with it. By so doing, they reify practices of policing into the police and block the possibility of thinking of policing beyond state police forces. Differently, the present study argues for the need to retrieve alternative forms of policing. The next section advances a classification of forms of policing. Patterns of Policing This section proposes to classify policing into four main types with subvariants: 1. forms of citizen self-policing, such as in the Ancient Athenian democracy, the early Germanic communities, or among many Indigenous communities throughout the Americas. But policing has also appeared framed along clientelistic lines, in two main modalities: 2. Properly clientelistic relationships in which people subject themselves to a few powerful individuals in exchange for protection ( i.e., feudal relationships, mafias), or 3. Policing becomes commodified and individuals pay for it, as it is the case of contemporary private security companies. Even though these modalities of policing are suuposed to differ, frequently private and clientelistic forms of policing tend to blur and it is not always possible to distinguish between them, such as in racketeering. Finally, I include 4. State forms of policing, ranging from the police organization developed by the Roman Republic in times of the Empire, or modern and contemporary police arrangements. Among the latter, scholars traditionally distinguish between centralized and hierarchical ( i.e., France) and decentralized and horizontal ( i.e., United States) police place in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.Ž However, Johnson and Monkkonen also recognize an overall increase in crime rates following War World II, and dramatically subsequ ent to 1968.Ž

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114 institutions. Furthermore, such an exploration serves to interrogate practices of policing according to the type of power relationship that they (re)produce and presents an argument for the differential consistency of these modalities with different forms of organization of power or political regime. Table 3-1. Major historical forms of policing Citizen (or denizen) Self-Policing Indigenous communities throughout the Americas Clientelistic Policing (personal/family/kin ties) Feudal relationships, mafias Private Policing (policing in exchange for money) Private security companies State Policing State forms of policing, ranging from the police organization developed by the Roman Republic in times of the Empire, the Aztec system, or modern and contemporary police (centralized and hierarchical such as in France, and decentralized and horizontal such as in the United States) In what follows, I present cases drawn from both history and the present. Since my classification seeks to lay down the main characteristics of each type of policing, it privileges common patterns over considerations of time. Hence, each category includes past and contemporary cases. It would be ideal to tell a smooth story of each form of policing. Telling such a story is impossible in the present circumstances, for the project requires historical accounts that are not currently available. With these caveats, the following sub-sections present historical and contemporary cases that show different patterns of policing.

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115 Citizen (or Denizen) Self-Policing Citizen self-policing appears as the form of policing that best serves a democratic polity, assuming the existence of a high degree of inclusiveness and the extension of franchise. Forms of citizen self-policing existed in ancient times, as they also exist these days. Selfpolicing allows for diverse m odalities. It includes from peoples temporary organization of policing with a specific purpose, such as controlling a fair hunt among the Cheyenne, to reduced groups that intervene only to restore order after it has been disrupted, such as in the early Roman Republic. It may also adopt the form of citizen watches and the administration of justice by the assembled community. In what follows, I present cases drawn from both ancient civilizations and contemporary experiences of policing. They articulate a similar basic pattern of people policing themselves. Ancient Athens, the early Roman Republic, the Germanic tribes, constitute the historical references included below. The rondas campesinas in Per and the Zwelethemba model in South Africa (and its extension to Argentina) represent ongoing experiences of selfpolicing. Let us review them. The case of Athens: The policing of the demos Athenians did not have police forces. The maintenance of order was understood to be a part of the duties of citizenship. Hunter reconstructs Athenian forms of policing through the examination of Attic lawsuits between 420 and 320 BC. During this period, Athens was a city of about 45,000 citizens, with a total population of about 200,000. The city was permanently visited by foreigners for political and economic reasons as well as for tourism (Hunter 150). Diverse gatherings, festivals, processions, and assemblies had the city as a scenario (p. 151). Athenian laws were written on stones located in different points of the city so everyone could see and learn them (p. 131).

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116 The restoration of democracy in 403 BC led Athenian citizens to take direct control of all aspects of government through their Assembly and law courts. Both the administration of justice and the provision of public safety were inseparable from other organs of government in Athens. Governance was in turn embedded in societyŽ (p. 5). The government largely overlapped with its citizens, military skills were a prerequisite for citizenship, private and public life were not clearly distinguishable, and both common citizens and ephebes, the soldier youths, performed different police and watch functions in the city. Different from our modern judiciaries, the Athenian court systemŽ did not constitute a different branch of government. M.I. Finley describes it as citizens acting in a different capacity from their legislative oneŽ (pp. 78-9). Distinctive features of being a citizen in Athens included ones membership to nonpartisan intermediary civic groups (deme, tribe), attending meetings of the Assembly, and serving as juror, Council member, or magistrateŽ (Mononson, p. 98). Athenian citizens had to serve as magistrates and support magistrates in carrying out judicial investigation and prosecution. They intervened as witnesses, made arrests, took suspects to court, and performed judicial functions. After the reforms introduced by Solon, prosecution and retribution were made voluntary in Athens (Hunter, p. 125). Private prosecution meant that anyone who suffered personal injury was responsible for initiating a suit on his own behalfŽ (p. 125). Public litigation was also a prerogative of any citizen.8 Citizens had to present their cases 8 Definitions of private and public in Ancient Athens may look peculiar to us, though, since for example murder was considered a private affair and adultery a public offe nse (Hunter, p. 125). As one of the pitfalls of the system, the principle of material reward for the damaged plus th e possibility for any citizen to initiate a lawsuit led to the proliferation of malicious pr osecutors called sycophants (p. 126).

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117 before the justices and carry all kinds of police procedure, from investigation to prosecution to the arrest of suspects. In all cases, magistrates communicated their verdicts requesting reparations. If those responsible did not voluntarily comply with the order, the apprehension of lawbreakers was left to citizens (p. 134). Women, children, the elderly, and slaves were considered dependents and needed to have their interests represented by a (male) citizen (p. 9).9To cope with conflicts, crime, disorder, and violence on a daily basis Athenians had a system of self-policing that relied on citizens initiative and self-help (p. 124). Their system of policing combined state oversight with ad hoc bodies of citizens enforcing the law and magistrates resolutions. Citizens acting as their own police required the active collaboration of family members, friends, neighbors, slaves, or bystanders (p. 187). Citizens had to take back their property (including slaves), punish adulterers, and were allowed to use violence against their own slaves, which frequently included torturing them in public (p. 187). Authoritarian forms of policing emerged in Athens in circumstances of democratic breakdown, when foreign soldiers and private guards appear patrolling the city to prevent possible revolts (Ostwalt, 1996, p. 385). However, those experiences were exceptional. In most cases, state authorities did not intervene, with the exception of episodes in which public slaves were sent to seize states property (p. 124). Circumstances in which Athenian citizens could use force included The arrest of common criminals and other designated offenders (apagoge), intervention to rescue a free person from being seized as a slave, the confinement„ sometimes even the killing„of an adulterer, distraint upon goods, and the expulsion from ones property of an interloper claiming to posses it (p. 187). 9 Athenian women neither enjoyed citizen rights nor were entitled property. They had to be legally represented by a man. However, Hunters reconstruction of lawsuits shows cases of wealthy women owning property and carryi ng businesses of their own.

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118 Practices of citizen self-policing were regulated by law and customary rules. Explicit and implicit regulations included the need of having witnesses, the prohibition of entering a citizens property in his absence, or the restriction to seize property from another citizen in presence of their children and wife. Abuses by citizens in the performance of judicial and police functions were punished in general with fines (Hunter, p. 126). Most Greek city-states had public slaves (p. 3). After the end of the Persian Wars (490-479 BC), the Athenian government bought about three hundred Scythians public slaves to assist the Eleven in judicial matters and act as prison attendants, executioners, and policeŽ (p. 186). They were put to control crowds and keep orderŽ in public meetings. Outside Greece, Nubian slaves had been used by Egyptians to patrol the marketplace. Despite their resemblance with a police force, public slaves were not authorized to act by themselves. They constituted just an armed prolongation or tool of the magistrates. They were never intended to replace, but just to support, the system of citizen policing. The Athenian body of public slaves was dismantled around 390 BC and replaced with other slaves and ephebes, says Hunter (p. 6), yet forty years later, in his Athenian Constitution, Aristotle (§54) still describes public slaves helping magistrates to maintain order in the roads. The Athenian system of self-policing relied on a sophisticated arrangement of political and judicial institutions (Hunter, p. 186). Aristotle (§51) describes different layers of judicial magistrates and police offices. Commissioners of Market, Corn, and Weight and Measures were police magistrates who controlled the quality and price of the goods offered in the market, supervised contracts, and maintained order. Responsible for supervising roads, buildings, and boundaries dividing properties was the office of the

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119 City Warden. According to Aristotles reference in Politics (§8), the Wardens of the country were charged with similar responsibilities to police the countryside. By the time Aristotle writes on the Athenian constitution (328 BC), the city had a prison and a special body of magistrates, the Eleven, who were chosen by lot to arresting, punishing, and executing people (Hunter, p. 186). How did Athens protect itself from possible enemies in disguise? Aristotle accounts for 500 guards of the dockyards,Ž and 50 of the Acropolis.10 In extraordinary situations posed by external threats, internal turm oil or the destruction of sacred symbols, the Assembly and the Boulez asked the generals to organize citizens in armed militias. Athens was both democratic and militarized. The Athenian military was conformed by democratically organized citizen militias.11 Eighteen-year old men entered citizenship through two years of military training. During that time, the ephebiŽ could eventually perform police functions in cases of emergency. Overall, the maintenance of order relied on citizens initiatives, which were in turn supported by extended practices of social control such as gossip. Among Athenians, the prospects of public exposition of ones private vices functioned as a powerful deterrent, for the Greek ethics was based upon shame. Face-toface relationships in self-governing Demes (120 adult males each) and gossip were main 10 Out of the proceeds of the tributes and the taxes and the contributions of the allies more than twenty thousand persons were maintained. There were 6, 000 jurymen, 1,600 bowmen, 1,200 Knights, 500 members of the Council, 500 guards of the dockyards, besides fifty guards in the Acropolis. There were some 700 magistrates at home, and some 700 abroad. Further, when they subsequently went to war, there were in addition 2,500 heavy-armed troops, twenty guard-ships, and other ships which collected the tributes, with crews amounting to 2,000 men, selected by lot; and besides these there were the persons maintained at the Prytaneum, and orphans, and gaolers, since all these were supported by the state.Ž Aristotle, The Athenian Constitution , Ch. 24. (translation by Sir Frederic Keyon), 11 Every year, the tribes of the city elected their generals and the Polemarch, the army commander, was chosen by lot. Once in the battlefield, the opinions of the Polemarch counted just as those of any other general (Ostwald, p. 339).

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120 tools of social control in Athens (Hunter, p. 97). Hunters work reconstructs the close surveillance to which all Athenians subjected each other and accounts for the role of gossip in controlling individual behavior. Gossip by men and slaves took place in neighborhoods, barber-shops, other shops around the city, and the Agora (p. 98). They disseminated information on extramarital affairs and private crimes through the city. Individual morality served to establish responsibility in the case of litigation. Policing Athens was an activity in which public and private realms, state and civil society, blurred (Hunter, p. 188). By the time Aristotle wrote his work on the Athenian Constitution, citizenship in Athens was granted to men whose both parents were born in the city. The restrictive conditions of citizenship and the existence of slavery in Athens certainly qualify the Athenian democracy. However, institutions and practices developed among citizens still set the highest democratic achievement of the history of the West. The indistinction between citizens and government and the diversity of forms of social control, policing and intervention leads Hunter to represent policing in Athens as a continuum extending from the self-regulation of kin and neighbors, or the community in general, to the punitive sanctions of the stateŽ (p. 4). The system of policing of the Athenian democracy stands out as a form of maintaining order that best fits and reproduces democratic relations of power. It poses no difference between participating in the definition of social order and maintaining it. The exclusionary character of the Athenian democracy appears as a contingency to their forms of policing, which could have included all the population without any need for the system to change. It is my contention that theories of participatory democracy should reappropriate the Athenian

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121 tradition of self-policing and assess their possibilities to reorganize policing in our societies. The case of the early Roman Republic Similar forms of citizen self-policing developed in Rome as in Athens. During the early times of the republic ( circa 210 BC), public order was maintained in a flexible way. Similar to the Athenians, Roman citizens had to contribute to preserve public safety, especially in situations of turmoil. Differently from Athens, Rome had magistrates charged with the maintenance of public order, yet the use of force was banned from the city of Rome. After the Twelve Tables were promulgated around 450 BC, the Romans recorded their laws (Boatwright et al. , p. 416). Not only the maintenance of order but the entire government in the Roman Republic was based on auctoritas , ,12 which Hannah Arendt presents as a unique Roman concept. Authority in Rome was based upon the sacredness of the foundation of the city. Arendt examines the etymological relations between giving origin ( auctor ), preserving that foundational impulse ( auctoritas ) and making it grow ( augmentare ), and maintaining and renewing the sacred bonds with the foundation ( re-ligare ) (1961, pp. 120-4). The foundation of a new body politicto the Greeks an almost commonplace experience became to the Romans the central, decisive, unrepeatable beginning of their whole history, a unique event (p. 121), says Arendt. This is the context to understand Ciceros words on the proximity of humans to the gods in the actions of founding States or preserving those already in existence. Both the foundation and the preservation of Rome 12 Auctoritas means authority. Hannah Arendt explains th at authority in Rome was understood as emerging from the mythical act of foundation of the city. (1961, p. 120ss).

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122 were considered sacred, simultaneously political and religious, so was the authority of magistrates. This principle meant that, in Rome, order had to be preserved through the impressive but mere display of magisterial authorityŽ (Nippel, p. 23). Force had been banned by the laws of provocation, says Nippel, and could not be used against common citizen. Coercitio , or force, included scourging and execution (by decapitation with an axe), arresting and carrying a disobedient person to prison,Ž administering fines, or taking securities ( i.e., money or property that served as guarantee for a contract). The only ones who could use force legally in Rome were the members of the senate to solve conflicts between members of the government or ruling elites (p. 22). Thus, to maintain public order, magistrates were expected to count with the support, involvement, and collaboration of the citizenry. In any case, magistrates were expected to intervene only when problems reached a certain degree of virulenceŽ (Nippel, p. 21). Encounters between magistrates and citizens were witnessed by lictores , public officers carrying fasces who escorted magistrates walking on a line before them. The fasces they carried, a bundle of rods surmounted by an axheadŽ (Boatwright et al. , p. 484), symbolized magisterial authority (Nippel, p. 23). The number of lictores assigned to the magistrates varied according to their officeŽ (p. 486). Citizens were expected to obey solely based on the magistrates authorityŽ (Nippel, p. 23; Arendt, 1961, p. 120ss). Other magistrates invested with police functions in Rome were aediles , who supervised the markets, the cleanliness of public spaces, and the state of streets and buildings, and tresviri capitales , who patrolled or arrested citizens by the senates special orderŽ (Nippel, p. 21). In the occurrence of serious episodes of turmoil, slave rebellions, or

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123 conspiracies, magistrates appealed to citizen self-policing and could even organize militias in the Athenian style (p. 25).13In occasion of rebellions against the Republic that put the commonwealth in risk, the senate called those citizens who were prepared to defend the res publicaŽ to exercise their inalienable rightŽ (p. 26) of self-protection. Since most of the population did not have arms, this call was indeed aimed at the wealthier classes, who armed themselves and their slaves and provided other loyal citizens with arms. In those cases, public arsenals could also beused to arm the rest of the citizens. As in Athens, also in Rome policing appears as a citizen practice destined to preserve the order defined by citizens themselves. Differently from Athens, the participation of citizens through assemblies in Rome became increasingly mediated by the institutions of the Republic (the tribunate, the senate and the consulship). Also differently, Athenian citizens could to some extent administer force by themselves whereas its use was banned in Rome. In any case, these experiences develop policing as a major dimension of citizenship. But it would be lost in Rome progressively together with the loss of the political rights attached to citizenship.14 Was the system of citizen selfpolicing in Athens and the early Roman Republic due to the relative simplicity of infant peoples, as Marx suggests (1857), or we should instead see their forms of policing as consistent with a democratic polity and necessary for its maintenance? The cases of 13 This is suggested by Nippel: Arrests on a very large scale and summary trials of h undreds of thousands of people are only possible with the support of quasi-military forces,Ž which he understands by that time supposes the involvement of citizen volunteersŽ (p. 25). 14 While during the first centuri es of the Republic, citizens took active participation in Roman voting assemblies, whose decisions were legally bindingŽ and pr omulgated civil and criminal laws (Boatwright et. al.. 416-7), the right to choose authorities through vote and passing laws became defunct early in the PrincipateŽ (p. 421).

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124 Ancient Athens and Rome suggest a correspondence between direct and semi-direct forms of democracy with citizen self-policing, a pattern that seems to have reappeared in the brief experience of the 1871 Paris Commune.15The case of the Germanic tribes The dissolution of the Roman civilization coincided with the development of the Germanic tribes. Germanic traditions tend to be associated with barbarian practices, but they are also credited with the development of forms of popular sovereignty that found modern democracy. Different tribal groups were known under the label of Germanic: Franks, Angles, Saxons, Visigoths, Ostrogoths, and Vandals. The earliest accounts on the Germanic tribes are the work of Greek and Roman writers, geographers, and historians, such as Tacitus. Dennis Green (1998) points out that these outside sources follow the conventions of their own cultures but they do not necessarily do justice to the particular barbarians with whom contact was made (p. 11). By the time that those first accounts were written, Green (p. 12) notices, the Germanic tribes were already heavily influenced by the Mediterranean world, especially Rome. Hence, the Germanic world in its purity was missed. Green highlights the influence of Rome in the division of the Germanic peoples and in their militarization, the wide range of linguistic variation between groups, and our general inaccuracy to account for the historical transformations among the Germanic. Tribal kings were elected among the fittest warriors and leaders, and when a king died, the people chose a successor from members of the same family. Despite their 15 During its short existence, the Commune abolished the Prefectur e of Police, refers historian Tombs (p. 89) and set a communal police that was said to be the most democratic of its bodies: Routine policing was in the hands of the local co mmissaires and the National Guard. This was a genuine democratic body, the only one of the Communes institutions that did indeed elect its official s Foreign observers remarked on the good order in the streets; defenders of the Commune even claimed that crime has ceased. (p. 89)

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125 idiosyncratic cultural traditions, all those groups shared similar forms of economic and social organization. Green follows Tacitus description of the Germanic tribal assemblies, which performed legislative functions and met on regular basis (p. 30). Free individuals had both the right and duty to bear arms and to play a part in the tribal assemblyŽ (p. 39). Germanic societies hardly developed any specialization in ways of administering justice and punishment, and strategies of policing. Their strategies of administration of justice and safety respond to the patterns that Robinson and Scaglion recognize in kinship societies elsewhere. Organized in tribes and living in small villages, the Germanics main unit of organization was the clan. Clans were drawn along kinship lines. They guaranteed their members protection, or at least vengeance, in the form of a blood feud.Ž When a member of the clan was killed, the whole clan sought revenge by declaring war against the murderer and his own clan. Green highlights that the blood-feud had in principle a protective, dissuasive function. It was a means of settling disputes between kindreds through violence or negotiation or bothŽ (Green, p. 50). The feud was the duty to protect other members of the group and the right to be protected by them, which provided for the unity of the kindred. This agreement of protection against external aggression also included the internal duty not to use violence within the group (p. 51). The Germanic judicial process began with the victim or the victims relatives denouncing having been damaged by someone else. The process took the form of a competition, a duel, or an individualized war regulated by rules. They included tests such as requiring the accused to grasp a bar of red-hot iron or to plunge his hand into a caldron of boiling waterŽ (Hollister, p. 19). In this scheme, the law seeks to organize and ritualize revenge, not to replace it, for war and law are seen as a continuum. The parties

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126 could resort to the practice of calling on kinsmen to swear on ones behalfŽ (Green, p. 50). Individuals who did not belong to a kindred and had none to perform these oaths was in a precarious position, exposed to harsher punishmentsŽ (p. 59). Kinsmen were in charge of paying and receiving the wergild, to which they had to contribute according to kinship degrees.Ž The dispute was held not between individuals but by entire kindreds, which felt themselves attacked in one of their individuals and sought revenge to compensate for the humiliation suffered. The collective character of the feud becomes visible with the possibility that satisfaction could be obtained by vengeance on any member of the culprits kindred, not necessarily on the perpetrator himselfŽ (Green, p. 51). In the Germanic administration of justice there were no more than two parts involved. Foucault highlights that the idea of a third, neutral, part, as in a public representative, or the notion of investigating the truth, are absent from the early Germanic law. Among these tribes, the judicial process appeared as a continuation of the struggle between the contendersŽ (Foucault, 1973) with the only possible outcome of a loser and a winner. But the Germanic law also included the possibility of armistice. Green refers an exceptional case of kinsmen killing one of their members for having been too eager to pardon the aggressor and having thus brought humiliation for the group. But the internal dynamics of a kindred was remarkably peaceful. The Germanic peoples were aware of the need to avoid a state of permanent conflict that would only weaken them. Ultimately, they knew about the convenience to pursue a peaceful settlementŽ (Green, p. 52). Through time, the custom was introduced of allowing aggressors to redeem their deeds through paying the wronged clan a sum of money or its equivalent in goods. These procedures ( wergild, wergeld , or satisfactio )

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127 grew in sophistication by establishing different fines for different damages that also considered the social status of the victim (Hollister, p. 19). Payments could then stop these conflicts from escalating into wars that involved entire clans. However, the alternative of monetary compensation to blood feuds had to be accepted by the offended. Green examines the rich etymology denoting the practice of blood-feuds in different Germanic languages, in which the meaning of money, peace, settling a dispute, justice, and reconciliation appear associated (p. 52). At a time when no central state authority existed,Ž says Green, the blood-feud constituted the best available protection for the individualŽ (p. 51). Germanic laws were understood to be made by the people and stood above any particular king. Through time, this notion would support ideas of popular sovereignty. The popular component of Germanic institutions grounds the suggestion that modern democracy has its genesis in the forests of GermanyŽ (Hollister, p. 20). However, the links between Germanic law and democracy are not immediate. As Robinson and Scaglion argue, clientage corroded kinship among the Germanic peoples. Through time, feudalism displaced kinship with personal allegiance to a king or leader. The links of honor and loyalty of Germanic brotherhoods and tribes continued into medieval kingdoms (p. 19). It may be questionable to qualify members of the early Germanic communities and other tribes and stateless peoples as citizens. This is why the concept of denizensŽ should complement the notion of citizenship. Members of the Germanic tribes gathered to address conflicts and administer justice. Although simple, their practices deserve to be included under the label of democratic. The participation of the people in administering

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128 justice and solving conflicts and the prospects to replace violence with negotiation are elements that can be retrieved still today in the democratic reorganization of policing. Among the Germanic peoples, the development of lordship and kingship undermined kinship. Lordship arose after the end of nomadism and the development of more complex and wealthier societies. Their resources allowed lords to organize warbands based upon artificial forms of kinship that outgrew family and group ties (Green, p. 66). In turn, kinship weakened at the same pace that kingship grew stronger as a central authority. Before the establishment of royal power justice was an affair of the kindred and resided in the last resort in the feud; without any developed state-apparatus a mans protection against strangers rested with his immediate fellows (p. 63). Once the power of kings became consolidated, in frequent association with the Church and the support of the Roman law, kinship forms of administration of justice and maintenance of order were treated as illegitimate and undermined. In the kings perspective, feuds amounted to chaos. The Roman law served him to reject feud on the grounds that the offender alone was responsible for his crime and that his kindred should not suffer with him (p. 64). Instead, kings presented themselves as main source of justice. Under Christian inspiration, kings and their delegate officers presided over the administration of justice. While the practices of proving oneself true were still influenced by the performance of contests and competitions, it was now God who was assumed to be behind them. But what follows is feudalism. A contemporary case of self-policing: Rondas campesinas in Per Orin Starn credits Peruvian rondas campesinas as one of the largest and most sustained rural movements in late twentieth-century Latin America (1992, p.90). Rondas are a form of peasant self-policing that appeared as a response to the rise in rural theft

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129 and the lack of state response. First developed in northern Perú during the 1970s, they soon extended toward the south. In the 1990s, there were more than 3,500 rondas in Perú (Neild, 1999). Rondas started as a network of peasants watching and patrolling the countryside. Yet during the 1980s they grew into an entire alternative justice system with open community assemblies to resolve problems ranging from wife-beating to land disputesŽ (Starn, p.90, 99). Due to the successes in preventing theft, ronderosŽ started to organize assemblies of popular justice where people could find solutions to their disputes. Whereas before peasants had to make costly and time consuming trips to the city just to find themselves mistreated by the state judicial system, communitys meetings offered cheaper, closer, more accessible and fairer forms to solve conflicts. We solve in a night problems that lasted for years with the authorities,Ž told the president of a ronda to Starn (1992, p.108). The case of rondas campesinas in Perú constitutes a major example of how both policing and democratic political and juridical practices can be combined and support each other. Rondas went even further and engaged in developing small local projects such as the construction of medical posts or channels or the repair of paths (1992, p.100). These wider functions required changes and improvements in the internal organization of the rondas. Starn describes how forms of direct, participatory, democracy were created to guarantee the rotation of leaders and the removal of those who behaved in an authoritarian manner (pp. 101-2). Starn presents the case of the rondas as an experience of grassroots participatory democracy that grew by drawing elements from the state legal and bureaucratic apparatuses, the military, and the police (p. 102).

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130 The Peruvian state assumed different positions and strategies about the rondas. The military government declared them illegal in 1979. Democratic president Alan Garcías legalization of the rondas strengthened them (1992, p.105). Yet, in the context of the struggle against guerrilla group Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path), the Peruvian military attempted to co-opt ronderos and turn them into paramilitary groups for tasks of counterinsurgency. Under the auspices of former president Fujimori, they also organized more than 2,500 groups state-sponsored rondas, named civil defense committees,Ž with this aim. In southern Perú, the military succeeded (1996, p. 245). But Starn argues that even these southern Peruvian counterinsurgency groups successfully resisted state cooptation and grew into an autonomous democratic movement (1996, p.242). Since the mid 1990s, also Southern ronderos elected their leaders democratically without military interference. Certainly, the Peruvian rondas have faced problems and obstacles. Among them, Starn recognizes that rondas have not being able to erode patriarchal prejudices, that there have been cases of abuse of power and violence, and that they do not seem to have developed into any political movement. In turn, Neild highlights the political ambiguity of rondas and their potential for corruption or political opportunismŽ (p. 18). But Starn also judges the rondas crucial in the pacification of the Peruvian countryside, amidst poverty, armed struggle, and weak state institutions. Peruvian rondas campesinas have developed democratic, popular, forms of denizen self-policing. But we must not idealize the pot ential of the rondas. For they constitute a marginal phenomenon that will not extend throughout Perú. However, this is a case that gives hope for a contemporary exploration of democratic forms of policing. While they

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131 are far from the Athenian model, they are socially inclusivefor they arise precisely in areas where the state does not reach the peopleand they are taking place these days. It is noticeable that these forms of policing arise among the poor and those who have been abandoned by the state. The Zwelethemba model in the next sub-section shows the same trend. Self-policing and “local capacity governance” in South Africa and Argentina The Zwelethemba model in South Africa was the first experience of local capacity governance that served to lay out a program targeting sectors of the population that are abandoned by the state. It was first tried in a poor black settlement next to Worcester in South Africa and then extended to about twenty poor communities in three South African provinces. The program is now being implemented also in Argentina, in two especially poor areas of Rosario city (p. 416). Clifford Shearing, the main theoretical inspiration of these experiences, and Jennifer Wood highlight the potential of these programs for deepening democracy in poor areas of South Africa, Argentina, and elsewhere (p. 401). Shearing and Wood depart from acknowledging contemporary changes in governance. In a world reshaped by neoconservative policies, they see social exclusion as a result of a disparity in terms of both wealth and governance. Being poor, they suggest, is to be deprived of both goods and the capacity to govern oneself. One of the signs of the poors deficit of governance that Shearing sees is their frequent exclusion through coercion and banishment by a range of agencies that operate in the interests of other collectivities (p. 413). Shearing and Wood describe how the poor are thrown in the lawless spaces that surround the privileged bubbles of governance of the neoliberal order. The unprivileged must live and work in settlements and shantytowns that the

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132 authors call communities of fate,Ž where they constantly suffer the threat of criminal and police violence (p. 413). Against these exclusionary conditions, Shearing claims that we must use neoliberalism against itself, for there are a few democratic elements embedded in the neoliberal logic. Shearing and Wood (2002, p. 403) take seriously the neoliberal trope of local capacity and knowledgeŽ and propose to advance them through strategies that enhance the self-direction of poor communities while strengthening their `collective capital'.Ž These principles serve as inspiration for the model of local capacity governance.Ž The Zwelethemba model promotes local forms of democracy and problem resolution within the community. It does so also by recovering tax resources for the poor. How does the model work? It creates peace committees, made up of local persons, to whom local community members bring interpersonal disputesŽ (p. 416). Members of peace committees meet with the parties involved in a conflict. Then they consult with members of the community whom they judge exhibit knowledge and capacity to contribute towards a resolution of the disputeŽ (p. 416). These meetings follow rules based on the respect for human rights and the law. They seek to solve the conflicts in a future-focused, non-coerciveŽ manner (p. 417). Each successful case of conflict resolution by the community awards peace committees with money coming from the (local) government. Half of the money pays for the work of those who were involved in solving the conflict, and the other half is destined to fund generic developmental issues in the community through the use of solutions that, where possible, mobilize local

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133 entrepreneurs as service providersŽ (p. 417). Through meetings, members of the community decide the use of these resources. Shearing and Wood present the model as constantly being refined and perfected through practice. Differently from other forms of conflict resolution, it advances solutions with an emphasis on the futureŽ and relies exclusively on members of the community, without any professional assistance. Each peace committee constitutes a governmental node that operates to mobilize the denizens of local collectivities to govern the communal spaces common to themŽ (p. 418). Their argument looks counterintuitive and eclectic. Against the disempowering effects of orthodox forms of community policing toward poor people, Shearings program is based upon an understanding of community policing that takes inspiration in private policing, not state policingŽ (1995, p.34). But the inspirers of the Zwelethemba model are consistent in their search for tools that empower local communities. As Shearing and Wood put it, these experiences seem to be virtuously articulating poor peoples achievements in terms of safety with their empowerment in terms of governance and resources. Far from being a naïve defense of neoliberalism, their discussion of the Zwelethemba model explores possibilities to develop democracy in spite of it. Programs such as the Zwelethemba seek to use the principles of neoliberalism in a democratic and inclusive way. They promote forms of maintaining order and administering justice that are compatible with democratic practices. But they also go beyond in suggesting that a grassroots, democratic reorganization of both policing and the administration of justice may empower the people and strengthen democratic institutions. What does this case have in common with the others that I have included within the category of citizen (or

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134 denizen) self-policing? The cases of Ancient Athens, Republican Rome, semi-barbarian Germanic tribes, peasant communities in current Perú, and marginalized sectors of the population in South Africa and Argentina are certainly incommensurable. However, in all these cases we see the people taking both the definition and the maintenance of order in their own hands in ways that are egalitarian and democratic. Different institutions and narratives articulate these experiences, yet they all place the people at their center. In all of them, the maintenance of order supports, instead of undermining, democratic forms of power. The size of these communities seems to make possible the enactment of forms of self-policing. If, according to theorists of democracy, the size of a community strongly conditions the institutional design for its governance, the governance of security should not be an exception. Dahl (1990), for example, reproduces the classical argument that The larger the number of citizensŽ (p. 54) the more necessary some form of representation becomes because of the material obstacles ( i.e., time) for individuals to have their views heard by the rest. Considerations like these lead these days to assimilate modern democracy with representative democracyŽ (p. 55). Dahl, however, does not include policing among the tasks that can be performed by citizens themselves. How does the size of society condition the performance of policing? Should we assume that forms of self-policing are only possible or desirable in reduced communities? This is just one of the problems that the consideration of citizen or denizen self-policing opens up to examination. These practices challenge us to revisit the organization of policing in its relation to the organization of governance.

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135 Clientage The first section presented Robinson and Scaglions definition of clientage. Clientage is a type of bond that links individuals in asymmetrical but personal ways. Robinson and Scaglion describe the first forms of clientage arising out of the crisis of kinship and corroding societies based on kinship. Patron-clientŽ relationships appear in Italy already between the 8th and the 6th centuries BC accompanying the process of formation of cities (Boatwright et al. , p. 23). A cliens was a free man who had ties (sometimes hereditary) to an individual of higher standing termed his patron ( patronus ).Ž (Boatwright et al. , p. 481). In theory, the patron granted protection to his clients, who followed this protector in war and in politics and served him in other ways when appropriateŽ (Boatwright et al. , p. 23). In some cases, say the authors, a powerful family may have controlled entire villages or clusters of dwellings in a larger settlement.Ž The pattern of these relationships has not change significantly through millennia, as they constitute a major theme in studies of democratization.16 Although the exchange is beneficial to both parties in some limited ways, it does not enhance the power of the inferior actorŽ (p. 112), nor does it alter the power differential between themŽ (p. 55). If entering the clientelistic relationship may be rational„as it seems rational to obey a feudal lord, a warlord, or a mafia chief rather than being killed by them, the structural inequality (re)produced by patron-client bonds appear in the antipodes of democratic forms of governance, for the latter can only prosper in conditions of equality. 16 Applied to the study of current democracies, Susan Stokes defines c lientelismŽ as a dyadic relation between two unequal actors in which the superior actor trades goods and services for other valued goods (political support, labor) from th e inferior actorŽ (p. 112).

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136 Contemporary experiences with clientage suggest that clientelistic bonds may grow out also of the crisis of other forms of power such as the nation states. I think we should consider clientage as a form of power that has the potential to corrode all other forms. Feudalism epitomizes clientage once it becomes the principle of organization of society. That form of society endured for more than a millennium. The rise of nation states replaced feudalism. However, forms of clientage reappear in cases of crisis of the state. In what follows, I characterize the ways in which both medieval and current forms of clientage define and maintain order. Clientage is based upon establishing inequality and subjection between the people as well as different categories of people. Clientelistic features have been present in policing from immemorial times. Robinson and Scaglion identify clientage as the origin of the class bound aspects of the police function. Furthermore, if we consider that the political is a type of relationship that arises only among equals, which has been highlighted by Carl Schmitt (1972, p.45) and Arendt (1958, p. 32) among others, structural inequality undermines the political itself, which is why in feudal settings politics reduces to high politics,Ž whereas the rest do not count, as Schmitt notices. These considerations suggest to me that both the clientelistic features of policing, and the narratives that legitimize them tend to erode democracy, as clientage has done before and still does throughout the world. Feudalism Over the third century A.D., Rome entered an irreversible crisis. Constant invasions, plundering, theft, and destruction led to the deurbanization of the WestŽ and the demise of the Western Roman Empire in 476 A.D. From then on, city life and urban institutions vanished in Europe. Rich aristocratic landowners moved out of the cities and entrenched themselves in their farms or estates organizing their own private armies to

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137 repel both invaders and Roman tax collectors. When decay became dissolution, people abandoned the cities out of fear. Meanwhile, the West dismembered into a number of barbarian tribes and clans. North of the Alps the municipal governments of antiquity disappeared without a traceŽ (Hollister, p. 142). People turned to be neither citizens nor free farmers, but colonii and serfs subjected to landlords who both exploited and protected them with their personal armies. This process marks the beginning of feudalism and the coming into being of the rural nobility of the Middle AgesŽ (Hollister, p. 16). Yet it took centuries for feudal bonds to articulate a system. The clientelistic rationale of feudalism benefited in an early stage from the dissolution of the Roman civilization, and later from the crisis of the Germanic egalitarian system. Feudal forms of clientage grew stronger from the need to repel Muslim, Viking, and Hungarian invasions, suggests Hollister.17 In England, communities based on kinship that owned land in common developed through the centuries into a stratified society dominated by layers of nobility. Sooner than other peoples, by the 8th century the English had a national king. In the case of England, it was the king who replaced the kinship system with one based upon vassalage (Robinson and Scaglion, p. 145). Feudal life was complex and regulated by customary law (inherited from the Germanic traditions). At the basis of the system, the peasants lived in villages conformed by a few families (after the conversion of kings to Christianity these villages were turned 17 Hollister also links the consolid ation of feudalism to dramatic changes in military techniques developed during the eighth century among the Frankish. He argues that the cost of replacing foot warriors with armed knights, stronger and more efficacious but much more expensive to train and maintain, made the organization of an army a complicate endeavor. The lack of money in those agrarian societies led to compensating military services and loyalty with land or fiefs , argues Hollister, which transformed warrior nobles into vassals and led them to subject sub-vassals in lines that frequently reached twelve hierarchical levels and allowed for overlapping loyalties.

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138 into parishes with a local priest as head). Most peasants were tied to the land as serfs and allowed to use some land to provide for their own subsistence (and later on, also for profit). Feudalism was closed and self-sustained. The feudal right was an outgrowth of the Germanic tradition. As such, it did not seek to establish the truth,Ž says Foucault (1991) but just to subject the opponents to a series of tests to prove who was stronger or socially more influential. Bodily tests, or ordeals, consisted for example in walking on red-hot iron without having any trace left two days later. Social testsŽ consisted instead in having a certain number of people present their oaths to guaranteeing that one was right. The administrative unit of the fief was the manor, with the court of justice located in the lords castle (Hollister, p. 127). The administra tion of justice within the fief was one of the main duties that every knight had toward his lord. Still, the intricacy of feudal hierarchies led to frequent tensions and competitions between royal, seigneurial and municipal officersŽ (Chapman, p. 14) in the provision of justice and protection. Strengthened by the authority of king and the Church, feudal bonds effectively preserved order throughout Europe for several hundreds of years. Certainly, the kind of order reproduced through these feudal networks stands in the antipodes of democracy. It is a hierarchical and servile form of order that reifies inequality and privilege in the form of social castes. The thinking of Augustine discussed in chapter 4 represents the feudal understanding of order. Peoples fears and their pervasive needs for protection lay the ground for the reappearance of clientelistic forms such as those epitomized by feudalism. Mafias and networks of racketeering reproduce these relationships, as do corrupt

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139 politicians everywhere. Clientage can undermine present democracies. How does it work these days? 21th century clienteles When people cannot count on the protection of the state and crime rates skyrocket, they have no option but to pay for protection, notice Mehlum et al. (p. 450). Clientage is far from having disappeared. It is widespread in new democracies that rely on weak states, and flourishes in zones abandoned by the state, such as American inner cities or South American shantytowns. We all know the clientelistic rationale of illegal but parallel security regimes (Bayley and Shearing, 2001, p. 6) displayed by mafias and gangs. But these authors expose the logic behind more sophisticated forms of clientage. The authors take inspiration in the works of Tilly and Olson to discuss the ongoing privatization of policing in weak states along the lines of racketeering. Melhum et al. focus their analysis on Russia and several African and Latin American societies. They claim that a dual logic of plunder and protection acts as a strategy of rent-enhancing division of labor for associated entrepreneurs. A spiral of organized crime, racketeering, and commercial policing drains peoples lives and national economies but generates opportunities for both plunderers and protectors (p. 448). Diverse strategies sustain these markets for extortion in such a way that the legal provision of commercial security coexists with criminals and warlord competition, competing patronclient relationships, and clan conflicts. Extortive kidnappings in Colombia and its recent growth in Argentina respond to the rationale described by the authors. The authors relate the current proliferation of violent entrepreneurs to the massive process of reduction of the military after the end of the Cold War. Only for a few

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140 African countries, the authors count more than 750,000 military personnel who became unemployed during the 1990s. The situation looks not very different in Russia, where the mafyiaŽ gained notoriety during the 1990s paralleling the demise of the Russian state and the dismissal of at least a quarter of a million military, KGB (the Soviet political police) and other police personnel between 1991 and 1993 (Volkov, p. 485). Melhum et al. examine the rationale by which many people benefit from other peoples fear. Forms of racketeering foster clientelis tic interpersonal and political bonds. These bonds undermine trust and equality, turn everyone into a potential enemy, and lead to the decay of democratic practices. The authors expose crossings between commercial security and racketeering. Boundaries between them are not clear. However, I would like to suggest distinguishing private policing from racketeering according to whether one is truly free to abstain from hiring protection. In the case that one is not, it seems clear to me that we are before a case of racketeering. Neither democratic policing nor democratic politics can thrive in those conditions. Private Policing Private or commercial policing consists of providing protection in exchange for money. Differently from racketeering, there are neither personal relations of dependence nor pressure involved in hiring private policing services. It should be provided though a contractual relation of exchange. The expression private policingŽ was coined in the United States during the 1970s ( The Economist ). The growth of commercial policing in the last years has inspired a literature that makes it appear as a new phenomenon. However, Nigel South (1988, p. 36) puts things in perspective: Private beat patrols predated public police patrols by centuries ƒso it remains pertinent to keep in mind the question …which is the most traditional?Ž Hiring private guards seems to be a practice as

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141 old as trade and the dangers that it involves. A few allusions to them appear even in ancient Athens and Rome. Mehlum et al. (p. 448) agree with Lane on the pervasiveness of private policing in Western Europe during the millennium 700…1700.Ž. Faster mercantile development since the 11th and 12th centuries led to the extension of forms of commercial policing. With the availability of money caused by increasing commerce, knights started to hire guards, mercenaries, justices, and civil personnel to fulfill their multiple obligations. Through time, monarchs also hired mercenary warriors, better trained and more obedient than their knights (Hollister, p. 143). Mercenary armies allowed kings to gain independence from their knights. The expansion of private policing seems to have followed the development of modern markets and industrial capitalism. The latter gave rise to a history of corporate policing. In the United States, Pinkerton is credited as the founder of modern private policing with the organization of a company in Chicago during the 1860s (Stead, 1977). A century later, in 1978, General Motors alone had a private police force of 4,200 ( The Economist ). Private policing inspired Peel in the creation of the London Metropolitan Police. Rawlings, Shearing and Johnston recognize the Marine Police Establishment, a private security service organized by Colquhoun, as the main inspiration for the creation of the modern police. Assembled in 1798, the Marine Police, or Thames River PoliceŽ (Rawlings, p. 73), consisted of sixty paid armed guards whose function was to establish a programme of surveillance, making it more difficult for workers to remove property from the docks without apprehensionŽ (p. 64). During the first half of the 20th century,

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142 the state attempted to displace private policing. With the expansion of state apparatuses and the development of the Welfare State until the 1960s, states made the effort to monopolize the exercise of policing. This trend displaced commercial policing to the provision of specific services such as protecting cash in transit or providing bodyguards. Since then, private guards have outnumbered police officers. A new wave of expansion of commercial policing followed the crisis of the welfare state in the 1970s. The wave has continued intensifying since then. It comprises hybrid and complex forms of association between public and private policing, diversified forms of commercial policing, and the development of supporting technological devices ( i.e., cameras, alarms). Jones and Newburn (1999, qtd. by Newburn, 2001) highlight the pervasiveness of the private security sector, symbolized by CCTV (closed-circuit television) while advancing over the performance of traditional police activities, such as patrolling or traffic and parking control. In 2001, the British Security Industry Association estimated that the number of CCTV cameras in the UK exceeded the million (Crawford & Lister, p. 7). No doubt, the extension of this patchwork of security hardware and servicesŽ (Newburn, 2001) has made private forms of policing gain visibility. Private guards outnumber police officers in many countries. Despite the lack of reliable data, due in part to the loose state regulations governing the private security industry, estimates suggest that private security guards outnumber state police officers in many countries. A decade ago, for England and Wales, Jones and Newburn (1995, qtd. in Newburn, 2001) estimated that the private security sector employed more than 160000 people while there were approximately 145 000 in public constabularies.Ž For Britain as a whole, The Economist (1997) suggested the number was

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143 300000. In North America, Shearing and Wood (p. 402) estimate the ratio between private and public police between 2 and 3 to 1.7.Ž In the United States, Huggins and Mac Turk account for about 2,000,000 guards employed by 10,000 private security companies, about four times the number of state and local police officers in the country.Ž In South Africa, estimates vary between 5 and 7 to 1Ž (p. 402). For Russia, some estimates reach 10:1. In 1998, Volkov (p. 489) counts about 850,000 Russian private guards. If one adds registered and clandestine private security agents, then there are more than 1 million of them in Brazil, hired by more of 1,200 companies (Huggins and MacTurk, 1997; Huggins, 2000). The commercial provision of security worldwide has reached an extension, expansion, and sophistication of unseen proportions. The main transnational corporations providing commercial security such as Executive Outcomes blur the boundaries between policing and warfare. For example, this South African based this company counted with two Boeing 727s, a medium artillery, combat aircrafts, and gun ships. It offered military training, VIP protection, and protection of gold and diamond mines as well as oil fieldsŽ (Mehlum et al. , p. 449). Private security companies have gained autonomy to define and protect security in the territories they surveil, although they are supposed to follow state guidelines. Shearing highlights the dimension of governance that these developments involve. These corporate governmentsŽ provide security and rule over contractual communitiesŽ (1995, p.33) such as people living in gated communities, or workers and clients of theme parks and shopping mallsŽ (Shearing and Johnston, p. 15). The rising provision of commercial forms of security throughout the world turns the role of the state into a

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144 refereeÂŽ that must oversee that individual liberties and rights are not endangered by these private forms of governance, says Shearing (1995, p.33). However, this role is not always effectively performed by the state. It is difficult to distinguish the exact limits between commercial policing and racketeering, to identify who provides what, and to allow only genuine forms of commercial policing to prosper. Overall, the growth of private policing may endanger the stability of the state that is supposed to control it. The potential for warfare of companies such as Executive Outcomes illustrate this danger. This said, is commercial policing compatible with democracy? Commercial policing cannot provide the basis for a democratic community, for they are based on opposite principles. If democratic life is based on inclusion, commercial policing relies on exclusion. Commercial policing is not about maintaining a common order, but just about keeping outsiders out. It does not involve the people in any common activity, but provides isolated individuals with a service. Commercial policing frequently degrades into racketeering. Only an active citizenry and effective mechanisms of control and accountability of policing can prevent this degradation. Still, Shearing highlights positive elements in the tradition of private security that could be employed within schemes of democratic policing. One of these elements is the emphasis on prevention and the calculation of risk that inspires private policing. Shearing judges it positive because it replaces the use of force with the use of dissuasion. The preventive paradigm stands out in opposition to the paradigm of repression and punishment that was instilled in modern police forces. In sum, if private policing is not democratic, it is not necessarily anti-democratic. A thriving democratic polity with

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145 citizens eager to participate in the governance of security could perhaps maintain some forms of private policing without democracy being affected by it. State Policing State policing is the form that most of us know. It looks familiar to everyone, and most of the literature treats it as if it were the only form of policing. Professionalized police forces grew with nation states. But they existed also in pre-modern settings, such as in Rome or among the Maya. As I did with the previous categories, also under this one I will describe one ancient form, the Roman police, and the characteristics of the modern state police. Late Roman Republic The Romans stand as the creators of the first police forces that most resemble the modern ones. The organization of police forces in Rome took place during the process of crisis of the Republic. After the execution of the Gracchi brothers and their followers, the loss of basic consensuses that founded the Roman Republic erupted. One of the consequences was the increasing use of violence, which we saw before was illegal in Rome. Many executions and murders carried out for openly political reasons, such as the one of the democratic leader Clodious in 52 BC, triggered episodes of popular reaction that were contested with military legions. Pompeys decision of using force against Roman citizens undermined the principles that supported the Republican order. This is why many historians take this event as the end of the Republican tradition. From then on, Roman aristocrats could not maintain order without sacrificing fundamental principles of Roman governmentŽ (Nippel, p. 29). Declaration of martial law by the Senate became a regular procedure that legitimized in advance the consuls decisions, including the execution with no trial of members of the political opposition

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146 (Davies, 1977, p. 12). Coup détats, assassinations, and episodes of civil war characterize much of the first century BC in the history of Rome, with hundreds of thousands of deaths.18 With the beginning of Augustus principate in 27 BC, in theory both peace and the institutions of the Republic were restored, although in practice they were deeply undermined.19 Thus, a professional army and mercenaries progressively replaced citizen militias, at the same pace that roman citizenship was deprived of political rights.20Augustus concentrated command over the military and organized police forces in the form of special bodies of men, different from the traditional magistrates, to overseeing public order in Rome. These police forces were drawn along military lines. Augustus started with his personal custody, the Praetorian Guard. The Praetorian were nine groups of 500 men each, including a division of secret police charged with preventing plots against the emperor (Davies, p. 24). He destined three Praetorian cohorts to police the city (Boatwright et al. , p. 312). A few years later, the emperor organized a division of fire-fighters. In 6 A.D., seven thousand men were put in charged of patrolling Rome under the orders of a Prefect. Also with the form of a military legion, a body of 3,500 freedmen Vigiles or watchmen was set to police the city, to make arrests and to carry interrogations (Davies, p. 15; Boatwright et al. , p. 312). Vigiles attended everything 18 Michael Crawford estimates in 300,000 the deaths occurred in the decades before 31 BC, the year when Octavian, Caesars 18 year-old grand nephew became his successor (Boatwright et. al. , p. 270). By then, the city of Rome had a population of about a million. After defeating Marc Antony, Octavian became Romes sole ruler (30 BC) and was given a new name, Augustus (p. 291). 19 Historical accounts differ on the character of Augustus po wer. Some see this moment as the beginning of imperial rule in Rome (Crawford, p. 13). Boatwright et. al notice that the First SettlementŽ that gave power to Augustus was made for no more than ten yearsŽ and that it allowed republican institutions to function with a degree of indepen dence and stability unknown sin ceƒ60-59Ž (p. 291). The period is called Principate. 20 Historian Fuller mentions that the organization of a pr ofessional army with a mercenary spiritŽ was accompanied of a shift in the oath of loyalty from the Republic to the military commander (p. 180).

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147 from fires to disturbances. Hence, Augustus decided to create a specific police force, the Cohortes Urbanae , whom he named after military units. Boatwright et al. estimate the number of urban cohorts in 1,500. Members of the urban cohorts were both militarized and professionalized Roman citizens (Davies, p. 16) led by the City Prefect, a post charged to a senior senator (Boatwright et al. , p. 312). Each group had interrogators, prison officers, and administrative personnel to keep criminal records (Davies, p. 17). Towns and villages where these Roman magistrates could not be sent continued using their previous systems of police, relying on local magistrates, self-help, or the use of public slaves (Davies, p. 22). Maintaining peace and order in the countryside was more difficult, and Augustus assigned military legions to it. It was the beginning of professionalized police in the Ancient world. Police bodies reappeared centuries later with the modern nation state. Modern police As we saw before, the need to control the poor once feudal bonds and forms of social control could not contain them anymore lies behind the emergence of police. Hegemonic representations of the police suggest that preventing and fighting crime, enforcing the law, and maintaining order in consistency with the rule of law define the scope of policing. Accordingly, the universe of Polizei is dismissed as a relic of Absolutism. Neocleous challenges these views by exposing structural continuities between the 18th century science of police and our modern police forces and administrative state apparatuses. Despite claims of newness of modern police forces, the work of historians such as Knemeyer, theorists such as Foucault and Neocleous, and students of policing such as Shearing and Johnston expose its continuities with previous forms. But there are also substantive shifts.

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148 Two decisive shifts that ground the emergence of modern police forces and made them distinct were the concentration of power in the sovereign and the organization and expansion of a state bureaucracy. From then on, the alchemical elements that smooth continuity and change in policing are the state bureaucracy and its administrative apparatuses. The first decisive step toward the constitution of a centralized police power was the recuperation, since the 12th century, of the Roman legal tradition to strengthen the kings personal rule against the Germanic legacy of popular justice. Legal scholars reinterpreted Roman principles in such a way that it attached imperium , or military might, to the figure of the king or prince. The Roman distinction between the private and the public was ignored. Private and public were made to conflate in the person of the king in such a way that the state turned to be treated as the monarchs estate or personal property (Chapman, p. 14). This way, police, law, and governmentŽ were conceived as personal prerogatives of the king in his sovereign investiture. Modern police forces first appeared under these auspices.21The next, correlated, step in the process of constitution of both the state and the police involved the progressive organization of an administrative apparatus of tax collection and law enforcement. This process took centuries, and exposes the medieval roots of some police institutions. In France, Philip Augustus (1180-1223) transformed his kingdom in an orderly administrative hierarchy that had him as the head. He began replacing local noblemen with middle class officers. These officers, known as baillis , where charged with financial, judicial, m ilitary and administrativeŽ functions (Hollister, 21 In the United Kingdom, the police are independent from the government and still see themselves as owing loyalty to the Crown.

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149 p. 226). After the 13th century, Parlements developed throughout France (Hollister, p. 307). They were integrated by members of the local nobility and the church. Parlements administered justice and assumed responsibility for the maintenance of order, prevention of crime, and application of sanctions against criminal activitiesŽ (Bayley, p. 349). The maintenance of order was also assigned to the military. Bayley refers that in the 15th century, the Compagnies dOrdonnanceƒFrances first standing armyƒwere directed to clear the roads of highwaymenŽ (p. 349). Chapman recognizes these groups, precursor of the Gendarmerie, as the first French police forces (p. 14). In England, influenced by Roman law only late and marginally, tax collection and the administration of justice blurred in the figure of the sheriffs. Since Germanic traditions still dominated, sheriffs and shire knightsŽ were chosen from members of the local gentry and had to conciliate the rights of the population with the kings (Hollister, p. 227). During the 12th century, sheriffs became waged officers under the strict control of the crown (Hollister, p. 215). The office of the constabulary, characteristic of England, developed out of feudalism. Initially, constables assisted the lord of the manor in the administration of justice. Through time, the king charged them with keeping the peace in the manor on his behalf (Robinson and Scaglion, p. 147). We can see how police functions follow the same process of centralization in the hands of the king. After the end of the Thirty Years War in 1648, the need for the state to reconstruct societies destroyed by the war grounded a decisive shift toward the development of both the modern state and the police. Neocleous identifies this moment as the shift of police from a series of negative ad hocŽ measures to a positive, welfaristŽ character. This

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150 impulse reached its utmost expression in France and Prussia between the 17th and the 18thcenturies. As early as in the 17th century, the French police were structured along the same lines as in the present. Louis XIV organized a comprehensive police apparatus in Paris. He charged the police with diverse matters, which included collecting waste, controlling prostitution and traffic, overseeing the provision of food, and setting a system of espionage and undercover police work (Chapman, p. 15). Uniforms were introduced in 1829 (Bayley, p. 340-1). Chapman credits the Hohenzollen in Prussia as well as Joseph II in Austria as the founders of the Polizeistaat or absolutist police state. In the 17th century, Frederick William Hohenzollen organized the Prussian state through the subjection of a number of regional nobles, the Junkers. The Prussian kings organized a modern bureaucratic state along meritocratic lines. In Prussia, high positions within the state bureaucracy could only be filled in by those holding university degrees in cameralistics,Ž the early science of administration (Chapman, p. 17). The Polizeistaat relied on the belief that the fate of the state was crucial for the happiness of its individual members, which could be sacrificed for the sake of states strength. These ideas are examined in light of political philosophy in chapter 4. In historical terms, it is important to highlight that the doctrine of the Polizeistaat led to a fusion of legislative and administrative prerogatives in the form of police power (Chapman, pp. 18, 20). The word policeŽ acquired relevance during the 18th century paralleling the growth of centralized administration and the absolutist state. Police power came to the forefront embodied in both police forces and state administration. The apparent

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151 effectiveness of French police methods impressed the Prussian, and led them to perfect those of their own. The Prussian police state expanded during the 18th century with the creation of provincial police authorities that controlled the cities. Local Polizei inspectors were designated throughout Prussia and a police official was appointed for the city of Berlin (Knemeyer, p. 183). In Prussia, uniforms were introduced only after the mid 19th century (Bayley, 1975, p. 347). In the second half of the 18th century, King Joseph transformed Austria into a modern state. The king abolished nobilitys privileges, passed divorce laws, limited the power of the Church, recruited officers with university degrees, and organized the career of state administrator (Chapman, pp. 18-9). Accompanying these reforms, Joseph also created an impressive police apparatus and made his secret police reach every corner in Austria (Chapman, p. 24). Along Rousseaunian lines, Austrian Joseph sought to force his subjects to be free, rational, and well educated, and saw the police as a tool for peoples education (Chapman, p. 27). In England, Neocleous (1998b) dates the first public appearance of the word police to one of Queen Annes speeches in 1714. From that moment, the word gained currency together with the police. Furthermore, Neocleous shows that the practices labeled policeŽ in France did exist in Britain, if only they were named as policy.Ž During the 18th century London was well known for its criminality, violence, and licentiousness,Ž and many wondered why the English did not follow the example of the French or the GermansŽ (Bayley, 1975, p. 351). The system began to change. Philip Rawlings describes the passage from manorial and church courts to the magistrates courts in the seventeenth century, and from jury to summary trials held before one or two justices in

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152 the eighteenthŽ (p. 30). Despite these changes, the countryside was still policed by local sheriffs and watchmen. The English system, based on non-remunerated magistracies and the proliferation of rewards to informants denouncing criminals, was ineffective and prompt to corruption (Rubinstein, 1977, p. 40). The organization of the modern police in England was brought about by the Fielding brothers and Colqhouns organization of the private police service to oversee the docks in the port of London. The crime panicŽ that arose in London in the mid 1780s (Rawlings, 1995, p. 73) suggested the obsolescence of traditional systems of policing. This notwithstanding, the Fielding brothers had to challenge the notion that the enforcement of the criminal law was a personal decision which should be left to the victim,Ž says Rawlings (p. 30). In 1829, Home Secretary Sir Robert Peel convinced the Parliament to abandon the system of parish-constables and charge the judiciary with the responsibility for policing London (Bayley, 1975, p. 342). It was the creation of the London Metropolitan police, which as I said before constitutes the mythical moment in the liberal understanding of policing. The officers integrating the new force were called Bobbies.Ž Until recent years, they did not carry arms but relied solely on their authority and citizen support (p. 343). Despite the strong and generalized popular resistance that this creation met, as Tilly shows, in 1839, all police forces in London were assimilated to the New Police.Ž It took the rest of the country more than five decades to become acquainted with the professional police. In 1888, local political control exercised through representative bodiesŽ was implemented in England. With these measures and the extension of the modern police

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153 system throughout the country, the English state finally made its monopoly of force effective (Stone, 1947). The Prussian and Austrian police states found continuity in the Napoleonic postrevolutionary reorganization of France. Alexis de Tocqueville highlights continuities between the ancien régime and post-revolutionary France. His examination of the cahiers de protest exposes the extremely arbitrary use of police power by the French aristocracy during the ancien régime , when peasants were arrested continually, some for forced labour, some for begging, some for the militia, some by the police or for a hundred other causes.Ž But he also shows that, as much as the revolutionary government may have shaken the structure of the state, its bureaucratic and police skeleton not only survived but was strengthened by the revolutionary process. He shows that the revolutionary process did not undermine the principle of central sovereignty in police affairs„if anything, control became more efficientŽ (Bayley, 1975, p. 345). Neocleous argues that far from disappearing, the police state extends and perfects into the modern state administration. Professional state police forces epitomize in fact the peak of centralization and the monopoly of force by the nation state. Liberal states monopolized policing during the 18th, 19th, and 20th centuries at the expense of subordinate groups. Policing was nationalized, increasingly constructed from the top downŽ (Bayley and Shearing, p. 26) and arranged in most countries after a bureaucratic military authoritarian organizational modelŽ (Hodgson, p. 522). Considering how police and administrative apparatuses intertwine, the liberal state did not really narrow down its police power, but strengthened it through the impressive expansion of the administration in areas such as education, health, welfare, public works. This constitutes Neocleous'

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154 main argument on the functional differentiation of the police projectŽ (p. 91) through the development of the Welfare State. Bayley and Shearing describe the evolution of policing in liberal democracies in the last two centuries. The monopolization of policing by nation states reduced individuals participation in the first half of the 20th century to calling 911 or its equivalent.Ž Yet, the difficulty of lowering crime rates led many democratic governments to promote forms of involvement of residential and interest groupsŽ in community policing. As we saw before, the expansion of commercial forms of policing accompanied these developments. Current Trends and Challenges In their 2001 report The New Structure of Policing,Ž Bayley and Shearing draw on worldwide sources, principally on democratic societies, to suggest that policing is going through a historic restructuringŽ (p. vii). They see that the state monopoly over governanceŽ was nowhere fully realized.Ž Instead, Bayley and Shearing argue that nonstate nodesŽ have always coexisted with the state. Still, the authors hypothesize that key transformations in the combination of state and non-state nodes of governance. They describe an increasing distance between those who authorize policing from those who do it,Ž and the multilateralizationŽ of policing, or its shift from state to non-state sponsorship. Transnational and local providers of policing are challenging the centrality of State police forces simultaneously from above and below. It is clear that diverse forms of non-state forms of policing ranging from commercial policing and surveillance to community sponsored forms of self-policing ( i.e., rondas campesinas, the Zwelethemba model) have expanded throughout the world in recent years. These transformations foster the development of networks of governance below, above, and parallel to the state.

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155 The emerging world of plural, networked policingŽ coincides with the constitution of social multiverses hardly in contact with each other under the impulse of global capital. Among those who authorize policing in the present, Bayley and Shearing identify economic interests, both legal and illegal; residential communities; cultural communities; individuals; and governments.Ž In turn, policing is provided alternatively by commercial companies, nongovernmental authorizers of policing, individuals, and governmentsŽ (p. vii). The authors point to the similarities between the police services offered by different providers. What varies mostly is their strategie s and practices. For example, state policing tends to focus on punishment, whereas non-governmental agents resort to exclusion and the regulation of access.Ž Surveillance may adopt a preeminently civilian outlook or be drawn from a military understanding of public safety, as we see in the late Roman Republic. These days it tends to assume the form of thousands of video cameras dispersed throughout cities, communities, and companies.22 Surveillance is based on a logic of assessment of risks that presupposes rational choice from the actors and proceeds through the identification of likely crime hot spotsŽ Shearing and Johnston (pp. 87-8). The expansion of non-governmental agencies into traditional forms of policing, leads the police to specialize in punishing crime, doing intelligence and leaning toward militarization. Whereas state police continues being central, it is accompanied by a 22 Of course, surveillance is a fundamental component of all preventive activity,Ž say Shearing and Johnston (2003). Among current trends, the authors refer the control of empl oyee communications and activitiesŽ by US companies, the expansion of CCTV cameras in British towns and cities,Ž the increasing sophistication of speed cameras on roads,Ž and systems for parents to spy their childrens nannies in Toronto (p. 87).

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156 diversity of other forms ( i.e., commercial, communal). Hugging and MacTurk offer a vivid description of these current trends: The privatization of social control is multifarious. Cash-strapped governments sell security service. Police officials run their own security businesses. Rank-and-file officers work off-duty as licensed guards. Former cops and soldiers, fired for committing crimes, join the burgeoning ranks of clandestine security outfits. Private security agents work with army officers behind death squads. And transnational consultants help businesses and walled-off communities get the most of their rent-a-cops and the latest security technology. This pluralizationŽ of the governance of security (Shearing and Wood, p. 403) leads Bayley and Shearing to conclude on the need for governments to develop the capacity to regulate, audit, and facilitate the restructuring of policingŽ (Bayley and Shearing, p. viii). We need to transcend the reduction of policing to military or judicial matters in political science, and start perceiving the core of governance embedded in it. Shearing and Wood advance an alternative perspective to think of policing and the governance of security. They identify the emergence of nodalŽ forms of governance, a network where both state and non-state governing practices coexist. Such a network combines cooperative and conflictive forms of governance. The authors propose not to assume the priority of any form of governance within a node (p. 404). Similarly, they propose to put aside the concept of citizenship and consider people as denizens.Ž By denizenshipŽ they understand the affiliation to any sphere of governance and its associated rights and responsibilities.Ž23 Multiple affiliations result in multiple denizenships of different duration and involving different degrees of responsibility and rights. The school, the shopping mall, the workplace, public areas interpellate individuals 23 Our suggestion is that, for the purposes of situa ting people within a framework of nodal governance, the term `denizen' be defined as a person within th e regulatory domain of a governmental nodeŽ (Shearing and Wood, p. 408).

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157 differently and define specific forms of denizenship. Bayley and Shearing (p. 26) qualify these general trends in relation to local history and circumstances, in particular on the trajectory by which policing is already developing. Locality matters. Concluding Remarks Policing is a form of governance. It accommodates the overall patterns of governance in a society. This chapter has identified four main forms of policing and characterized ancient and current forms within each category. Which one better suits democracy? Should we look for a global ideal typeŽ of democratic policing, or rather, its organization should be designed according to particular, local, conditions? According to Bayley and Shearing, the main difference between democratic and authoritarian regimes is that they respectively prioritize the safety of the public or the protection of the regime.Ž Authoritarian regimes exhibit a pattern of sustained monopoly of policing. They Discourage groups from acting as either auspices or providers of policing. They too, however, recognize that effective crime control requires assistance from the public. They obtain it through mobilizing groups, just as democratic governments do, but not by allowing them to participate in markets. They mobilize local knowledge and resources through co-opting direction. This trajectory produces the pretense of multilateralization and a style of policing that is preoccupied with threats to governments rather than to individuals (p. 26). Findings such as Robinson and Scaglions seem to imply that egalitarian societies are more likely to develop democratic forms of organization of power and self-managed forms of policing. Could the reverse be true, that is, that forms of citizen (or denizen) self-policing foster democratic political arrangements? This is suggested by cases of selfpolicing such as the Zwelethemba model or the Peruvian rondas campesinas. There is much to learn about them, as they seem to put in question whether professionalized state police forces are the best form to police a democratic society.

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158 Bayley argues that the historical circumstances that first shaped the emergence of police forces imprint indelibly into police institutions. Along these lines, he identifies persistent national patterns in modern Europe (p. 330). He describes the formation of police forces in Great Britains between 1829 and 1888; Frances in the latter seventeenth century, Germanys (or Prussias) from the mid-18th century to 1872; and Italys between 1859 and 1870Ž (p. 378). Bayley shows that current police forces in those countries even today still preserve the originary basic shape. Does it mean that only democratic origins may turn a police force compatible with democracy? Current evidence shows that patterns of policing are changing around the world. Crises, civil wars, and processes of state dissolution create opportunities for the eruption of other forms of policing as well as for reversals. The process of collapse of the former Yugoslavia and the Soviet Union, the lawlessness of inner cities in the U.S., and many cases of weak states make manifest the coexistence of different forms of policing that in other cases is not evident. Tilly exposes nuances and shades of kings allying pirates, as in England, and shows how armies, criminal gangs, mafias, political leaders, kings, traders, and states can all coincide. Following Tilly and Olsons insights, Mehlum et al. show how plunder and protectionŽ tend to appear together also in our days. The insufficient regulation of the private security industry allows for the hybridization of commercial policing and clientage, as for example when convicted criminalsŽ form their own private security companies (Purbrick, 1990). The logic of racketeering analyzed by Tilly sheds light into this ambiguity. Whereas modernity coincides with the prevalence of the nation-state and forms of state centered police, the other modalities survive on the margins. Whereas

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159 forms may have developed along an evolutionary path, their coexistence comes to light especially in crises of state domination. Robinson and Scaglions hypotheses on clientage, inequality, and police seem adequate also to account for these cases. If patron-client relationships are key in explaining the origin of the police function as class-bound, as they argue, clientage in the form of exchange of obedience and tribute for protection also are central in Tillys argument on the origins of modern European states reviewed in chapter 2. But clientage is much older, as exemplified by Ancient Rome, which stands as a case of dissolution of a democratic order accompanied of the establishment of clientelistic relationships and the rise of police. Robinson and Scaglion argue that growing class inequality lies behind the emergence of both clientage and police. But both in Rome and elsewhere, crises have led clientage repeatedly to gain ground undermining the state and its police. If the dynamics by which clientage undermines egalitarian forms of power seems clear, it would be important to look for cases in which (democratic) politics displaces clientage both in society and as a typical form of organization of police. Under any of its modalities, policing defines a problematic set of practices, that were created as a tool of sovereignty to maintain unila terally defined forms of order. Modern forms of policing grew out of the modern state. Professionalized forms of state policing developed out of the concentration of power in an emperor or a king. They were perfected in modernity under the auspices of depersonalized forms of modern sovereignty. The reorganization of policing under liberalism relies on the impossibility for citizens to decide about its organization and to participate in its performance. The police of the liberal state arise from the separation between political and administrative

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160 forms of governance, with policing being confined to the latter, which tends to be opaque to citizen oversight. Furthermore, since modern police forces were explicitly organized with the mandate to control the dangerous classes,Ž the class bound character of modern state policing is manifest. But, as cases of citizen (or denizen) self-policing best illustrate, there are also genuine, non-class bound aspects involved in policing whose performance seems necessary in all societies beyond a threshold of complexity. This chapter sought to place policing within the horizon of democratic governance. After the review and discussion of different modalities of policing, it seems clear that But the democratic reorganization of state police forces entails more than their institutional reform: it involves subjecting them and making them accountable to their constituencies. The latter would demand the integration of this form of policing together with elements taken from the other forms along democratic, horizontal, and transparent forms of organization. Key to make any of these forms democratic is the democratization of the discretionary power involved in policing, which the present study argues can be promoted through narratives. Chapter 4 examines the character of police power in light of the political and the state. The role of narratives in democratizing police power constitutes the subject of chapter 5.

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161 CHAPTER 4 THE PLACE OF POLICING IN POLITICAL THEORY He who imagines that he can give laws for the public conduct of states, while he leaves the private life of citizens wholly to take care of itself; who thinks that individuals may pass the day as they please, and that there is no necessity of order in all things; he, I say, who gives up the control of their private lives, and supposes that they will conform to law in their common and public life, is making a great mistake (Plato, Laws , Book VI, §780a). The police constitute the most direct form in which we confront state powers on a daily and micro basis. This dissertation assesses the conditions for the democratization of policing. I argue that policing can be performed in ways that strengthen democratic forms of citizenship and governance. But my argument works only under certain conditions. It relies on a series of assumptions about the power involved in policing and its place within the government, which this chapter makes explicit. Most discussions of policing and democratization frequently take the meaning of policing for granted. Probably nobody will deny the need to stop episodes of police abuse and violence nor will they dismiss that the police are a key institution shaping peoples daily life. However, a likely agreement on these matters can mislead us to assume, or imagine, that we share a common understanding of police power, which is not the case. What comes to mind when we talk about the police? How do we represent policing? As mentioned in chapter 1, most studies of democratization reduce policing to state police and the police to the military or the judiciary. They also endorse a formalistic understanding of the law and an understanding of order as unproblematic. Most of the time, they rely on an implicit knowledge of policing that leaves the specificity of police

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162 power in the shadows. Since it is impossible to agree on how to democratize a power that we do not see, this chapter gives theoretical visibility to the power involved in policing. It draws on the canon of political theory to characterize police power and to place it within the state apparatus. The journey presented in this chapter shows that the links between policing, governing, and the political are both internal and perennial. Why should anyone interested in just reforming the police engage in revisiting what Plato, Augustine, Bodin, or Foucault have to say? The references to policing, the police, and police power retrieved in this chapter permit us to gain a thicker understanding of what is at stake in policing. This chapter shows that the reproduction of sovereign power, not the enforcement of the law, is what defines the police. The police have an interest in all aspects of social life, even if with a specific focus on the administration of life. The chapter also discusses why police power challenges the republican division of power. Police power appears in fact as autonomous within the state apparatus. Ultimately, police power is a type of power that reopens the state of exception and is exercised outside the law.1 These features of police power make current consensuses on the police in studies of democratization inadequate. Besides, the review presented in this chapter will allow us to both iden tify the roots of the current common sense on policing as well as to provide us with alternative sources to imagining democratic practices of policing. Such an understanding seems needed to overcome recurrent failures of democratic projects of police reform. To those readers engaged with practical problems arising from policing, this chapter offers a thorough theoretical analysis of police power that might sharpen their insight on why policing is so central for 1 Agamben defines the state of exception as the origi nal structure in which law encompasses living beings by means of its own susp ensionŽ (2005, p. 3).

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163 the future of democratization. It may also help to imagine strategies of police reform that are better suited to the characteristic s of police power. For example, the characterization of police power in this chapter suggests other moments and forms of intervention for the democratization of policing, such as the work on transforming police narratives that is discussed in chapter 5. For those engaged with political theory, this chapter highlights references of policing in major political works, which tend to occupy a marginal position in the thinking major philosophers. But in all cases, they contribute to gain a better understanding of the place of policing in relation to the government, the state, and the political. It was Foucault who gave the police theoretical visibility. His work exposes the practices contained in policing as the most concrete forms of governance through which power makes us normal.Ž Foucaults examination of the police along the lines of pastoral2 forms of intervention, unveils its medieval and ancient roots. After his legacy, even in a polemic relation to it, several theorists have written illuminating pieces on the police. Pasquale Pasquino (1978, in Gordon et al. 1991), Giorgio Agamben (1991), Jacques Rancière (1998), Mark Neocleous (2000), and Hélène lHeuillet (2003) must be included among them. Contributions have been made to the discussion of policing within specific historical conditions (Gramsci, 1921; Benjamin, 1921; Arendt, 1951; Ortega y Gasset, 1930) as well as in the work of specific philosophers. The debate between 2 Foucault traces the historical origins of police techniques to the forms of di scipline developed through centuries by the Church that he calls the pastoral.Ž The modern state, he argues, appropriates those techniques and administers them through its police. In spired in a similar rationale, disciplining and normalization spawn from institutions such as schools, prisons, factories, workhouses, or madhouses. These mild, microscopic, multiple forms of intervention shape individuals acco rding to what society understands by normal. Foucaults concept of g overnmentalityŽ widens the idea of government. It includes policing and all other practices of ordering the po lity and the self. It challenges us to imagine thicker forms of democracy. Policing appears as a key dimension of this challenge.

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164 Duncan and Steinberger on the role of the guardians in Platos Republic illustrates the latter. Also Neocleous engages with this type of work, as he examines the concept of police in Adam Smith (1998a) and in Hegel (1998b). Most theoretical references focus on the modern police. This chapter challenges such consensuses. The argument revisits practices of policing that include the police but also other forms of defining and maintaining order. Why frame my theoretical exploration as policing instead of the police, as most theorists do? The choice responds to the goals of this dissertation. My research problem aims to the characterization of democratic forms of policing, which does not form part of the agenda of the theorists mentioned above. By privileging the modern police, these theorists single out the specificity of modern forms of state policing. However, as the historical review presented in chapter 2 shows, modern forms of state policing are far from being democratic. Their inspiration in the project of containment of the poor shows that the police were developed not to promote but to contain the extension of citizenship to the common people.3 If one departs from examining these eminently non-democratic forms from a concern with democracy, it is very likely that one will conc lude that, as Rancire does, that police and democratic politics are antagonistic. If one starts from democratic forms of citizen selfpolicing instead, as I am trying to do, the prospects look very different. Along these lines, this chapter draws on a wider historical perspective on policing and reviews the forms in which practices of policing have been addressed by political philosophers. The chapter organizes three broad sections along the convention of pre-modern, modern, and post3 This is what Knemeyer and Neocleous suggest in their recon struction of the po lice project as a strategy of containment of the poor. The argument in chapter 2 concluded that, whereas we can turn state police more democratic, it is far from being the most democratic form of policing that we can imagine and practice. Citizen or denizen self-policing appears instead as the form of organization of policing closest to a democratic ideal.

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165 modern political theory. It is organized as follows: The first section focuses on Ancient and medieval authors. It begins with a review of Plato and Aristotles insights on policing, which a reference to Cicero bridges with the medieval thought of order. Section two explores modern political theory. It starts with changes in the concept of order and the understanding on its maintenance brought about by the consolidation of modern states. It addresses the Enlightenments project to eliminate policing by internalizing it. It discusses both the Hegelian and the Marxian contributions to thinking of policing. It highlights 20th century contributions from thinkers as diverse as Ortega y Gasset, Benjamin, Gramsci, and Arendt. Section 3 begins with Foucaults references to the police, which his concept of biopoliticsŽ turned into a key set of practices to investigate the dynamics of power. Following sub-sections assess the contributions of Rancière (1995), Agamben (1995), Hardt, and Negri (2000) to our understanding of policing and the (bio)political. The contemporary critique of police presents policing as an omnipresent, global, form of domination undermining democratic forms of power. The chapter ends with an assessment of how these different traditions and thinkers contribute to bring visibility to police power. It also lays down the way in which policing is theoretically conceived of in this study. By so doing, this chapter gives theoretical support to the analysis of police interviews in chapter 4 and the discussion of police discretion in chapter 5. Pre-Modern References to Policing Life, Markets, Spies For if a man were born so divinely gifted that he could naturally apprehend the truth, he would have no need of laws to rule over him; for there is no law or order which is above knowledge, nor can mind, without impiety, be deemed the subject or slave of any man, but rather the lord of all. I speak of mind, true and free, and in harmony with nature. But then there is no such mind anywhere, or at least not

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166 much; and therefore we must choose law and order, which are second best (Plato, Laws , Book IX, §875d). The fragility of life challenges the political with the protection and preservation of the members of the Polis. Practical concerns with the best forms of maintaining order accompany normative discussions on the best forms of order since the foundation of Western philosophy. This sub-section exposes how concerns with policing were already present in Plato and Aristotles examinations of the ideal polity. Retrieving their ideas on the maintenance of order is important in this study for they arise from experiences of direct democracy. Certainly, the ancient city-state and the modern nation state are different, the forms of organization of citizen policing in Athens and the modern professionalized police significantly differ, and the offices drafted by Plato and Aristotle cannot be equated with the gigantic administrative apparatuses of the present. But despite differences in scale, technology, and organization, the challenges as well as the tasks involved in policing and governing do not differ substantially. As Plato puts it in the Republic , one of the assumptions that lie at the foundation of politics is that the whole city is leagued together for the protection of each individualŽ (Book IX, §578d). Both Plato and Aristotle discuss the need for offices to overseeing the security of the country and implementing laws, judicial decisions, and punishments. Both philosophers allude to the activity of patrolling in the figure of magistrates entrusted with the security of public places such as roads, temples, or the marketplace. All these are policing tasks, as well as activities of governing the polis. Plato, who judges the achievement of justice as the main purpose of life in common, makes the first thorough reference to order and the need of maintaining it. For him, justice coincides with good order, and good order cannot be but hierarchical. Both

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167 the city and the soul define layers of order that contain each other like fractals and replicate the same structure and principles. If there are as many forms of the soul as there are distinct forms of the State (Book IV, c), then the realization of justice follows the same patterns of order in both. Accordingly, the Platonic realization of justice entails a series of practices of ordering the city and the soul according to their different natural constitutions that take the form of various city governments or organizations of the individual soul ( 449a). In the state, justice consists in each class of individuals doing the work of its own class; in the body, it comprises the proper distribution of functions with the command of reason ( 441d). The Platonic gaze depicts individuals as naturally unequal in their possibilities to think and govern, and his ideal city looks like a happy caste society where everyone performs the function for which is best suited. Plato envisages a specialized group of guardians and assigns them with the provision of safety and the government of the city. He sees a need for specialization in the government as it is impossible for a single person to practice many crafts or professions well ( 374a). In the dialogue, guardians are likened to dogs, for they are expected to be gentle to their own people and dangerous only to enemies ( 375c). Both male and female, they should neither own property nor form families that could hinder their absolute devotion to the state. Guardians should dwell in a community apart from the rest of the citizens. Their lives, frugal and virtuous, should be devoted to training themselves in securing and governing the polity. The philosopher devotes an entire section of the Republic to discuss the qualities of guardians and their education, and refers to them also in other dialogues. In Timaeus , Socrates says: And when we had given to each one that single employment and particular art which was suited to his nature, we spoke of those who were intended to be our

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168 warriors, and said that they were to be guardians of the city against attacks from within as well as from without, and to have no other employment; they were to be merciful in judging their subjects, of whom they were by nature friends, but fierce to their enemies, when they came across them in battle (§17c). Guards embody military, police, and governmental functions, which Plato discusses in Republic . Among the guardians, those who demonstrate to be full of zeal to do whatever they believe is for the good of the commonwealth and never willing to act against its interestŽ should be chosen as rulers, and the rest of the group turned into their Auxiliaries. Plato (Book III, §414b) entrusts the rulers, or complete guardiansŽ with guaranteeing that individuals will lack the power andƒthe desire to harm the city.Ž The latter passage delineates the common origins and specificity of military and police functions. Through repeated suggestions like these, Plato highlights the proximity between policing and governance. Philosophy, spirit, speed, and strengthŽ (§376c) the main qualities to instill in the guardians lead to a discussion on their education. It is ultimately natural qualities what makes one a guardian, thus the most talented children of each generation must be recruited for the task; however, their natural predisposition needs to be enhanced through physical training for bodies and music and poetry for the soulŽ (§376e). Platos awareness of the power of narratives makes him argue for exposing guardians only to stories and forms of art that advance true ideas and values in a straightforward manner. Accordingly, the dialogue assesses music, theater, poetry, and literatures potential for the transmission of truth and the formation of character. Guardians need to distinguish clearly between good and evil; thus, only stories that do not pose any ambiguous flank may be suited to provide them with clear role models and a good education. Since all children within the city amount to potential guardians, the

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169 participants in the dialogue agree on the need to persuade nurses and mothers to tell their childrenŽ only good stories to shape their childrens soulsŽ (§377c). Socrates concludes that popular stories that depict gods and heroesŽ ambiguously, offer a bad imageŽ of them and convey an unclear moral, must be thrown outŽ (§377c, d). As a corollary, the dialogue develops into Glaucon, Socrates, and Adeimantus general acceptance of the need to supervise the storytellersŽ (§377b) and to censor stories that do not convey truth and good in a neat manner. In Laws , Plato introduces practical concerns with the administration of law and order. In this dialogue, he envisages various types of wardens, or chief public officers, to take care or order and safety in the country, the city, and the agora, and all the functions with which he invests them are police tasks. The wardens of the country, or the secret policeŽ (Book VÍ, §763c) are intelligence agents who must keep a perfect knowledge of every locality,Ž which Plato argues is vital for the preservation of the state. Athenians did not hold the secret police in high es teem. Still, Plato insists th at every one who has the safety of the state at heart will use his utmost diligence in this serviceŽ (§763c). The wardens of the city and those of the agora, both of them chosen from members of the upper classes, represent more ordinary forms of policing and have authority to impose fines. City wardens must watch for the good condition of roads, buildings, highways entering the city, and oversee the water supply. Other wardens are assigned to the preservation of temples and fountains which are in the agora.Ž They are charged with preventing people from doing damage and with punishing transgressors. Besides patrolling, the maintenance of order requires administering justice, because a city which has no regular courts of law ceases to be a cityŽ (§766d). Whereas Plato

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170 reserves both governing and policing to members of the higher classes, he entitles every member of the Polis to participate in the administration of justice. Platos position appears surprisingly democratic. He justifies the inclusion of everyone in administering justice on grounds that he who has no share in the administration of justice, is apt to imagine that he has no share in the state at allŽ (§768b). The dialogue establishes several layers for the administration of justice. In the first place, individuals having a dispute should ask neighbors and friendsŽ (§767a) for mediation. Only when those familiar with the parties could not solve the conflict should the case be brought to court. Tribes and neighborhoods would maintain their own courts and have their judges chosen by lot. At a higher level, two city tribunals would decide respectively in private matters and public causesŽ (§767). Finally, a court would judge in causes that the two previous layers of the system could not solve. Offenses to the state define a special case for Plato, since they make all individuals wrongedŽ (§678a). Therefore, trials dealing with crimes against the state should be in charge of citizens themselves, assisted by three of the highest magistratesŽ (§678a). The recognition of people's active role in administering justice appears as an odd democratic element in Platos thought that seems to speak of his belonging to a democratic polity. Or at least this is what the similarities between the institutions that he endorses and the ones that existed in Athens suggest. Echoing Platos concerns, in Politics Aristotle argues that justice unites people by introducing the principle of order in political societyŽ (Book I, §1253, 39). He judges necessary to select offices which tend to preserve harmony and good orderŽ (§1321, 7) in order for justice to be advanced through the implementation of judicial decisions. The

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171 philosopher devotes special attention to the administration of punishments and fines and the control of prisoners, which he identifies among the most necessary and also the most difficultŽ (§1321, 40) tasks of government. It is as natural for people to reject punishments as it is unpleasant to administer them, says Aristotle. Thus, Aristotle proposes to distribute their administration between various offices to achieve more efficiency and to diffuse peoples antipathies. Aristotle (Book VI, §1322b) ranks magistrates in charge of safety and other military functionsŽ higher than the rest. However, no generals or commandersŽ but the guardians of the law are the ones who enjoy the highest dignity and authority in the state. As the law defines the core of the government, governments must promote the spirit of obedience to lawŽ especially in minute matters. But besides achieving citizen obedience, for a government to be good the laws themselves must be good, that is conducive to the realization of virtue that defines the ultimate purpose of life in common and justifies the existence of the state. In the good, happy, and virtuous life, what is distinctively human among us finds realization. Like Plato, Aristotle sees the world as hierarchically organized. But while Plato matches individuals with political constitutions and draws their ordering patterns from pre-existent, immutable Ideas, Aristotle argues that the nature of a thing is its endŽ (Book I, §1253a) and perceives the essence of beings as in need of realization. Speech, virtue, and membership to a state characterize humanity for Aristotle. Speech allows humans to discover truth and justice and lays the foundation for a virtuous life. But the practice of virtue is only possible within the polis. Hence, for Aristotle citizenship

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172 amounts to the fundamental condition for the realization of virtue and the perfection of human nature. Aristotle conceives of human beings as in need to develop their potential through action. One's own essence needs to be displayed and realized. But Aristotles thinking is not as dynamic as it may appear. Although he thinks that beings should develop their potential, no one can transcend the category to which one belongs. For example, it is not possible for beings lacking speech such as slaves and women to become fully humans. Why? Still in Politics , Aristotle argues that while humans speak, other beings such as slaves are only capable of mere voiceŽ to express mere pleasure or pain,Ž a capacity that Aristotle also finds in other animalsŽ (Book I, §1253a, 10). And with the distinction between zo and bios , or mere life and good life, the philosopher sets apart what belongs to the reign of animal life in humans from what is specific of the human realm. In On the Soul , Aristotle (1984) arranges objects, animals, humans, and gods along a hierarchical scale of being which predicates different degrees of worth for different types of objects and animal species. He places the human realm in between animals and gods and defines humans in contrast to them. As he puts it, mind (in the sense of intelligence) appears not to belong alike to all animals, and indeed not even to all human beingsŽ (Book I, §404b). Thus, the Aristotelian hierarchy results in the distinction between higher and inferior classes of human beings. Platos vision of justice leads to the categorization of beings and to their isolation in homogeneous groups. Aristotle, in contrast, seeks the active involvement of all citizens in the government of the Polis and the preservation of its constitution. Even lies seem legitimate to him to promote participation, as in Politics the philosopher advises leaders

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173 to invent terrors, and bring distant dangers near, in order that the citizens may be on their guard, and, like sentinels in a night-watch never relax their attentionŽ (Book V, §1308a, 29). Despite ontological parallels, Platos rigid essences lead to an order that eliminates the political whereas Aristotle poses politics at the center of his system. While neither the prevention of crime nor exchange suffice to define an association as a state, Aristotle insists that a state cannot existŽ (Book III, §1281a) without these conditions. He appreciates order and recognizes that the state has been established for the prevention of mutual crime and for the sake of exchange.Ž Yet these are for him conditions without which a state cannot exist; but all of them together do not constitute a stateŽ (§1281a). The provision of food, clothing, and shelter, and other activities linked to the biological or social reproduction of life, are destined to satisfy wants and needs. Aristotle understands that the state must provide for these needs. However, what is distinctive of the state is its conduciveness to a virtuous, properly human, life. The state exists for the sake of a good life, and not for the sake of life onlyŽ (§1281a). Lower needs and activities do require satisfaction, but just for us to release our potentials for the higher, art, thought, and the political. What then is the status of policing? Are the activities of patrolling, enforcing laws and implementing judicial decisions political and should be therefore considered higher functions, or do they correspond instead to the realm of need? Aristotle designs offices and magistrates that are intimately attached to the rest of the government in the polis; but the enforcement of laws and judicial decisions, the administration of fines, punishments, the custody of prisoners, the control of illnesses and the quality of food and water, all clearly seek to satisfy peoples needs. Aristotle judges the tasks involved in the protection

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174 and reproduction of life prepolitical and confines them to the household. Following him, Hannah Arendt concludes that for Athenians the government belonged to the private realm. For Athenians, Arendt (1958) says, freedom could exist only in the political arena, whereas the realm of need was supposed to be satisfied in the household. This prepolitical realm included the use of force and violence as a means to master necessityŽ (p. 31) and the private sphere allowed for the use of the most diverse means to liberate oneself from the necessity of life for the freedom of worldŽ (p. 31). As a corollary, Arendt explains that The whole concept of rule and being ruled, of government and power in the sense in which we understand them as well as the regulated order attending them, was felt to be prepolitical and to belong in the private rather than the public sphere (p. 32). The political presupposes and requires the satisfaction of needs. Since both policing and administration seek the biological and social reproduction of the species, Arendt characterizes them as prepolitical, not properly human, activities. In both Aristotles work and Arendts interpretation, the differences between needs and freedom, private and public, biological and political, seem clear. The distinction between a private and a public sphere of life corresponds to the household and the political realms, which have existed as distinct, separate entities at least since the rise of the ancient city stateŽ (p. 28). Arendts elaboration of classical philosophy leads her to a neat differentiation between the private and the public for granted. She attributes the blurring of these spheres in modern times to the emergence of Society as a third, hybrid, realm, which is neither private nor publicŽ and to the consolidation of nation-states (pp. 45, 28). In the consolidation of the social, Arendt sees a sign of decadence of the political, since the social displaces the political to the same pace that administrative apparatuses led by the

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175 rule of nobodyŽ colonize modern life. I endorse Arendts analysis of the colonization of life, individuality, and the political by an administrative logic, which give shape to the discussion of discretion in chapter 5. However, Arendts reduction of governing practices to a merely private affair in ancient Athens is not adequate, nor is her strict separation between public and private spheres. For example, the space of the political par excellence in Ancient Athens, the agora , arises from the marketplace. However different trade and the political may be, people were brought together to the agora for both prepolitical and political reasons.4 Not only the prepolitical and the political appear together, but the latter redefines the former as well as the boundaries between the public and the private. Reviewing Plato and Aristotles insights on policing and the administration of justice in this sub-section seeks to expose that, despite their not so democratic theoretical commitments, both of them judged citizen self-policing effective. Their belonging to a democratic polity seems to lay behind their practical support for a citizen practice that strengthened Athenian democratic politics. Both administrative and policing practices constitute prepolitical forms of governance. But, as Athenian institutions suggest, it is not the prepolitical tasks involved in policing what undermines per se the political, but just its anti-democratic organization. The history and political thought on policing in Athens show that the pre-political can be put to the service of the political and peoples good life. In Athens, policing was rooted in the polis and provided the political with stability. Policing, far from undermining the political, seems to have strengthened it, for it led citizens to assume responsibilities in the preservation and the reproduction of life and the 4 Arendt herself recognizes the ambiguity that permeates spaces such as the marketplace, which all tyrantsŽ have always tried to turn into a mere place of exchange of commodities by discouraging the citizens from worrying about public affairs, from id ling their time away in unproductive agoreuein and politeuesthai Ž (1958, p. 160).

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176 forms of order required by their democratic life.5 Within the government, it defined the moment of imposition of the order that had been set through political action. Moreover, both Plato and Aristotles insights on policing suggest that democratic forms of policing and administering justice make even those who do not endorse democracy milder. For Platos normative critique of democracy does not lead him to question Athenians citizen forms of policing and administering justice.6 Both Plato and Aristotles theoretical analysis of policing and the administration of justice endorse forms surprisingly similar to those that were implemented in the Athenian democracy. Policing the City, the Republic, and the Soul Cicero (1841) reappropriates the Greek legacy to think of the political in the largest and most diverse society of antiquity. Cicero proposes to crystallize virtue into a set of laws and customs to be applied to everyone. He draws on Aristotles understanding that virtue can only be realized in the state while embracing revolutionary Stoic beliefs on peoples natural equality and suitability for virtue. After these insights, the law becomes then for Cicero the means for universalizing virtue. If the law is as central to Cicero as it is to modern liberals, his understanding of the law is still Aristotelian, for it involves a concern with personal virtue and prudence. Cicero believes in natural equality. He argues that human beings are essentially alike and that nothing except bad habits and false beliefsŽ prevent us from achieving 5 In Athens, tasks that include supervising the satisfac tion of needs and using violence were far from being constrained to the household. As it was discussed in chapter 2, bo th magistrates and citizens oversaw the provision of safety. Tensions between political and administrative tasks appeared already in Athens. However, since both the political and the admin istrative were exercised and d ecided upon by citizens themselves, such tensions and contrad ictions shaped dilemmas for citizens ( i.e., how much time to devote to different activities) rather than contradictions wi thin the state apparatus as it is our case nowadays. 6 My own interpretation based on Platos references to policing and magistracies in the city finds support in Susan Mononsons study of Platos democratic entanglementsŽ (2000).

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177 virtue. In his view, the remedy for error arises from the law. Cicero believes that by drawing laws in agreement with the laws of nature and making our fellows follow them, we can build a good society and even achieve the life of the gods.Ž Platonic and Aristotelian themes converge in his understanding that practicing virtue results from the compliance with the law. But Ciceros egalitarian and democratic commitments are substantially more inclusive and stronger. His thinking lays down forms of imagining how to practice cosmopolitan forms of democracy. As those in charge of administering the law, magistrates gain Ciceros highest esteem. In the third book of On the Laws , both notions of magistrate and the law conflate, for the magistrate is a speaking law, and the law is a silent magistrate.Ž Accordingly, compelling all men, by the authority of magistrates and the penalties imposed by law, to follow rules of whose validity philosophers find it hard to convince even a few by their admonitionsŽ defines a task as high as the one of founding a city. Magistrates are absolutely necessary; since, without their prudence and diligence, a state cannot exist; and since it is by their regulations that the whole commonwealth is kept within the bounds of moderation. The democratic aspects of Roman thought are evident in Cicero. No particular qualifications except for a common will to advance justice, safety, and virtue define a people for him, who praises Romes mixed constitution for allowing both the great folk and the little folkŽ to watch after each other (Book III). In his Republic , Cicero identifies both the need of virtueŽ as well as the desire to defend the common safetyŽ as main features defining human nature. References to public safety, the safety of the people, safety as such, and protection, are recurrent in Ciceros work, and almost always accompany remarks on the common good and virtue as major goals of life in common. Cicero suggests that everyone has the potential to live a virtuous life and that virtue is

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178 realized through the compliance with the law. Thus, the enforcement of the law by the state becomes associated with virtue and not merely with the realm of need as in Aristotle. The metamorphosis of virtue into law promises to make the good life universally accessible at the same time that it blurs the boundaries between necessity, force, and freedom. To put it succinctly, in Ciceros thinking virtue becomes necessity and the maintenance of good order overlaps with the realization of the good life.7 However, Ciceros ideas did not meet the institutions required for their advancement. With the decay of Rome, cosmopolitan insights such as Ciceros dissolved amidst a feudal order that swallowed democratic ideals, equality, citizenship, and the political. For the many centuries that coincide with the decay of the authority of Rome and the fragmentation of the political, the advancement of justice and the maintenance of order populate philosophical, increasingly Christian, concerns, yet it is hardly ever specified who must provide for them or how they must be advanced. Political thinking under Christianity shifted from a discussion of ideal politics that assumed citizen involvement to a discussion of principles and the right definition of hierarchical orderings. The immediate agent of order tends to be elided, or not explicitly identified. Such an elision may arise from assuming the identity of the agent ( i.e., the feudal lord, the father within the family), from allowing simultaneously all of them to impose order, each one occupying his proper place, or from judging the maintenance of order and the 7 In an era of globalization, when patterns of authoritarian and democratic policing travel globally, Ciceros view of the law seems better suited than modern perspectives such as Lockes to turning representations of the rule of law democratic. His egalitarian commitments are in principle boundless. His understanding of the law is attached to virtue. Ciceros perspective appear in agreement with a notion of the living lawŽ coined by Aaronson et al. (1984) that the democratization of policing requires. But these problems will be discussed further in chapter 5.

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179 implementation of punishment as minor functions. In any case, such omission served well to accommodate the comprehensive project of Christianity to different forms of rule, which allowed it to extend amidst a diversity of institutional arrangements and a lack of effective central powers. The disappearance of the democratic ideal, citizenship, the political, and democratic forms of policing of antiquity and their displacement by clientage suggests a perennial need for some form of order. The parallels with the problems faced by current democracies supported in weak statesŽ and colonized by clientage are striking. In the centuries after the fall of the Rom e, political units became highly fragmented and the political vanished. The more Christianity extended throughout the West, the more abstract political references became. In fact, the feudal order that arose in Western Europe asphyxiated both the public and the political, and turned every form of authoritative intervention into mere policing, as Schmitt suggests (1972, p. 45). The reason is clear, for the political is a form of relation that involves equals, as theorists as different as Schmitt, Arendt, and Jacques Rancière agree upon.8 Schemes such as Ciceros, which conceive all individuals as essentially equal and see the role of the state as spreading virtue through law, maximize the room for the political and turn practices of policing in its support with independence of who performs them. But when individuals are distributed along rigid hierarchies and authority is seen as emerging naturally from those situated at the top of the structure, there is no place for the political. Better than 8 Rancière goes further and assimilates th e political to the moment of cons titution of the demos. Ultimately, in his perspective, there are no differences between the political and democracy. He sees hierarchical forms of order arising from an anti-d emocratic, anti-political, ontological principle that the calls police.Ž I discuss his contributions later in this chapter.

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180 anyone else, Augustine of Hippo embodies this perspective and bridges the ancient with the medieval world. Augustine perfects the Christian orthodoxy.9 Like Plato, Augustine is a thinker of order. As a Platonic thinker, Augustine assimilates earthly peace and justice to good order. His definition of order welcomes cultural diversity ( i.e., the diversity of language) but only to discipline it under homogenous ordering patterns. The peace of all things is the tranquility of order. Order is the distribution which allots things equal and unequal, each to its own place, (p. 690) he says. Augustine frequently refers to God as the Ordainer. Like Plato, Augustine sees patterns of order replicate themselves across different layers. But Augustine privileges the domestic realm that Plato dismisses. The same patterns of order appear in the soul, the household, the city, and the world. As in the Republic , the achievement of justice, peace, and order along these domains is correlative. This order, says Augustine, offers to us a glimpse of justice in the city of God. Augustine sanctions all these different layers of authority, which seems logical when one cannot rely on a functioning state. The domestic and the civic peace reinforce each other. Augustines assumptions about a fallen human nature make him hopeless regarding worldly justice. This seems to be why he does not discuss the benefits of any concrete set of political institutions. Instead, he offers guidelines for us to identify the right principles that Christians must use to organize their lives despite a diversity of political contexts. 9 Before him, Paul established the basis for the theory of the divine origi ns of power and the duty to obey the powers that be. The Pauline doctrine commands obedience to all authorities, even pagan, which he judged a direct expression of Gods will. Obedience becomes the Ch ristians political duty. The Christian shift to the afterlife makes classical themes such as the g ood life and the political irrelev ant. This pathos, together with Augustines witnessing of the fall of Rome, lies behind the Augustinian dismissiveness for the state.

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181 The Augustinian version of a city inspired in God universalizes policing. Everyone must police each other and extend that surveillance to ones own soul. Only with such comprehensive surveillance can the community of the faithful live closer to the principles of the godly city. Augustine sees no intrinsic worth in earthly institutions, unless they serve to ease the Christian mandate. In the Augustinian version, Christianity becomes an absolute rationale of suspicion. To be innocent for Augustine means not only not doing harm to others but also as to prevent everyone from sin or punish his sin, so that either the man himself who is punished may profit by his experience, or others be warned by his example.Ž Accordingly, either by word or blow, or some kind of just and legitimate punishment, such as society permits,Ž the family must punish the disobedient individual to make him or her adjust to the harmony drawn by paternal authority. In fact, Augustine gives the impression that almost anyone is authorized to police and punish others with the condition of invoking the right chain of authority that reaches God. No real good is attainable on earth. This premise makes Augustine look skeptical about our possibilities of advancing justice and good order. But holy ends justify the most atrocious means, for nothing can be more atrocious than losing ones own soul in hell. Augustine privileges the evaluation of the more efficient methods to advance the divine mandate in the earthly city. Oddly but consistently, this preoccupation leads him to combine strict Christian mores with an amoral evaluation of means and techniques of governance. The fallibility of human justice justifies methods such as torture. Augustine poses no moral objection to a judge who has both tortured an innocent man to discover his innocenceŽ and put him to death without discovering itŽ (p. 682). Rather, he argues, peace is the end sought for by warŽ (p. 687). As war and torture, all means look

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182 acceptable to Augustine if the purpose is to advance heavenly values, patterns of order, and authority in the organization of the state. Otherwise, there is no state but just sin administered by impostors and criminals. Augustine anticipates Bodins and current concerns with the fuzziness between states and organized crime.10 Augustine writes: Justice being taken away, then, what are kingdoms but great robberies? For what are robberies themselves, but little kingdoms? The band itself is made up of men; it is ruled by the authority of a prince, it is knit together by the pact of the confederacy; the booty is divided by the law agreed on (p. 112). For Augustine, robbers and states are different only for their origins. In order not to be tricked by impostors, we must know who is allowed to exercise Gods delegated power legitimately. Of course, this problem requires drawing the right chain of sovereignty that serves the advancement of justice on earth and differentiates a group of robbers from a State. For Augustine the ultimate moral dilemma consists in advancing either the City of God or the Earthly City, both of which pull us in opposite directions. However, his skeptical assessment of the fallen human nature and of our impossibility to understand Gods mysteries, including His giving earthly kingdoms both to good and badŽ (p. 140) alike, does not provide much of a guideline for the advancement of the godly city over the other. In Augustines perspective, there seems no need for peoples active engagement with advancing the godly city. What is needed instead is obedience to the authorities, which he sees fosters a proper distribution of Gods power on earth. It follows that disobedience must be severely punished. 10 Chapter 1 presented Tillys and Olsons analyses of the parallels between state formation and organized crime. In chapter 2, along the lines of clientage, I discussed findings on the competition and alliances of organized crime, private security, and states in plunder and protection.Ž

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183 Augustinian ideas inspired comprehensive police systems such as the one of the Holy Inquisition and have justified the use of torture by the Christian right since. He turned the need for self-examination and confession into an omnipresent and universal need.11 His somber expectations about earthly life and his generalized suspicion promote the constitution of twisted identities that anticipate police realism. For the Augustinian moralization presumes a deep knowledge of sin, as do the eye of the censor and the proximity of the police to crime. This is how William Connolly comments on the Augustinian imaginary: It takes a lot of work to keep an intrinsic moral order intact. Everybody must develop an unchaste eye so that no unchaste eye becomes the messenger of unchaste heart; and everybody must develop a forward eye so that no eye becomes too forward (p. 72). Changes in the forms of conceptualizing and maintaining order expose continuities between ancient, medieval, and modern arrangements of power, such as the series of techniques that Foucault labels pastoral. Adopting the image of the herdsman and his flock as a model of care and surveillance, the pastoral characterizes the Christian understanding of power and government. The herdsman must oversee at once the herd as a whole and each individual within it, for both of whom he is accountable before God. Ultimately, God himself is depicted as a herdsman. The effectiveness of the pastoral lies in its possibilities for achieving both universal reach„all of us are Gods children„and complete individualization„the Message interpellates you, it is destined specifically to you„as we can clearly see it in Pauls Letter to the Romans. Foucault traces the origins of this model of power, which was completely alien to the Greeks, to the ancient cultures of the Middle East, which reached the Christians through the Jews. 11 Every secret pleasure, modest su bterfuge, and petty opportunity for power now becomes possible material to be worked on through future confessionŽ (Connolly 72).

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184 This sub-section suggested analogies and parallels between the challenges of maintaining a democratic order faced by the ancients and by people in new democracies these days. It has also presented Augustines ideas on order and its maintenance and argued that these ideas influence the modern police after their secularization theorized by Foucault. They inspire procedures and narratives that shape police practices still these days.12 The Augustinian legacy undermines trust, with which no democratic experiences can prosper. It also dismisses earthly life, the worth of the political, and egalitarian views of humankind. As Connolly argues, the Augustinian imaginary does not allow for dissent but claims absolute obedience. The only features that turn us equal before Augustine are our fallen nature and our common subjection to God. As the realism of the police, the Augustinian ideas promote individuals who increase their participation in sin as a way to know how to persecute sinners. The discussion of notions such as police instinctŽ in chapter 5, which many police officers understand arises from their direct experience with criminals, exposes the continuities between Augustines ideas and those that give inspiration to the modern police. Forms of state po licing and of political policing overall draw on secularized versions of the Augustinian legacy to legitimize practices such as those that were reviewed in chapter 1. The police are main heirs of the Augustinian imaginary. The democratization of policing requires subjecting the Augustinian legacy, in both its religious and its secularized versions, to a thorough critique. God for Augustine and the state for the modern police perform an equivalent function in the legitimization of 12 The pastoral did not extend during the Middle Age s, says Foucault, for it is an especially urban experience, difficult to reconcile with the poor and extensive rural economyŽ characteristic of feudalism, says Foucault (1979, p. 241 ). The pastorate of individ uals involves so phisticated techniques. It requires certain levels of instruction and discipline from both herdsman and subjects, which during the middle ages existed only in limited settings such as monasteries. The core of these techniques would support the foundation of a new kind of rati onality, that of the state and its police.

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185 the most horrendous means to achieve order.13 How did the state come to occupy the place of God? God appeared to the heirs of Paul and Augustine as the model of governance, the achievement of order, and the administration of justice. Similarly, advice, protection, education, discipline, warnings, legislation, exclusion, judgment, condemnation, correction, and punishment all come from Him. They see God performing all these functions through the authorities, which are understood as a product of His design. Gods power is sovereign. And, modeled after God, state power would become also sovereign among national states after the 15th century. The modern police emerged in the process of constitution of state sovereignty. Modern Order and Modern Police Mortal Sovereigns: Policing Nation States The dissolution of peasant communities accelerated by the expansion of markets and the commodification of life finds in the state a replacement for the paternal authority of feudal estates celebrated by Augustine. Knemeyer argues that the modern state emerges as the reorganization and continuation of weakened feudal estates. He finds early references to policeŽ in Europe amidst the decadence of feudal forms of power in the 14th century. Jean Bodin is the first to present the notion of sovereignty as a political concept and to draw the main characteristics of sovereign power. In his work, sovereignty becomes the absolute and perpetual power of the state, that is, the greatest power to command, 13 Both forms of the same logic appear in police narratives legitimizing state terror policies. The case of Argentina between 1976 and 1983 is paradigmatic. Augustinian arguments were used to justify kidnappings, torture, killings, and disappearan cesŽ of tens of thousands people. Many priests actively supported those policies by becoming involved themselves in the daily life of concentration camps or clandestine centers of detention. The discussion of police narratives in chapter 4 retrieves some of these components.

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186 and the sovereign the one who, after God, acknowledges no one greater than himselfŽ (§ 349). What distinguishes sovereignty from other forms of power is the right to promulgate general laws for the subjects without their consent.Ž Far from merely consisting in just absolute power, to be sovereign, power must also be both legitimate and legal. No less than Augustine, Bodin insists on the need to differentiate the state from robbers and piratesŽ (Book I, Ch.I). Besides, governing society, achieving peace and justice through the implementation of laws, and deciding in questions of life and death, are all indiscriminately attributions of sovereign power. In Bodins work, police functions are exercised by subordinate magistrates.Ž He foresees the possibility for sovereign power to be in charge of temporary trustees and custodiansŽ (§ 345) who can exercise it but are not their titulars. He defines the magistrate as the officer who commands in the name of the commonwealthŽ (Book III, Ch. 84) and has the power To convict or acquit, and take cognizance some of matters concerning property, others concerning property and honour, and yet others of property, honour, and corporal pains exclusive or inclusive of the death penalty, with or without appeal from their decisions. The highest degree of compulsion is power of life and death, that is of condemning to death, or of pardoning those who have incurred this sentence. This is the highest attribute of sovereignty, proper to the majesty of a prince, and inherent in him to the exclusion of all other public persons. It follows that magistrates in charge of policing are invested with sovereign power. The need for magistrates arises from the im possibility of the sovereign to administer his law in person. He calls magistrates the life of the law.Ž Despite belonging only to one, sovereign power is legitimately administered by a network of magistrates. Proximity to the sovereign serves Bodin as a criterion to distinguish between three classes of magistrates. The first, higher, ones, or properly sovereign magistrates,Ž are the ones who obey none but the sovereign himselfŽ (Book III, Ch. 80). The second category

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187 comprises those who depend on sovereign magistrates but in turn command other lower ranking magistrates. Finally, the lower magistrates are those who obey the orders of the previous layers but themselves can only command private citizens.Ž At once subordinated and invested with sovereign power, the position of the magistrate is peculiar, for he must know how to obey his sovereign, defer to those magistrates who are his superiors, honour his equals, command those subject to him, defend the weak, hold fast against the strong, do justice to all.Ž Similarly, the magistrates entitlement to use sovereign power poses delicate questions of obedience, responsibility, and discretion. How must different orders be treated by the magistrates? Should all sovereign commands be obeyed? Bodin discusses the duty of magistrates toward the sovereign by reducing sovereign directives to two basic forms, mandates and letters of justiceŽ (Book III, Ch. 84). The sovereign may write letters of justice to address his concerns before the magistrates. The use of this form means that they are authorized to decide whether to act. In contrast, mandates leave nothing to the discretion of the executor.Ž The latter demand prompt execution and pose the problem of whether the magistrate should obey them also when he considers them legally inequitable.Ž Bodin argues that, unless the directives of the sovereign are contrary to the divine and natural law,Ž they must be obeyed and implemented. He also argues that one should never do anything that in ones own judgment is not just. However, he considers magistrates bound by law to obey the sovereign. Magistrates do not have the right to resign. Ultimately, Bodin says, if the people must obey the directions of the humblest magistrateŽ even if they are unjust or mistaken, how much more should the sovereign prince be obeyed, since all magistracies

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188 derive from him?Ž The ultimate answer is clear: the unity and preservation of sovereignty requires obedience. Bodin differentiates between public and private right to command,Ž and in all cases considers the power of magistrates to be public in contrast to domestic, private, authority (Book I, Ch. 6). However, he questions Xenophon and Aristotles opposition of economy or household management from police or disciplinary power.Ž Like Augustine, Bodin sees the government of both the household and the state as similar in kind though different in scale, and judges the well-ordered household as the model of order for society at large. Police mechanisms connect forms of governance in different realms.14Thomas Hobbes put in question both the source and attributes of sovereign power. His work opened the door for the modern resurrection of the political. With his rationalization of sovereignty, Hobbes decisively contributed to the endeavor, although after him the political would not look the same. Hobbes inverts Aristotle. The provision of safety, that Aristotle justifies only with a higher purpose, becomes with Hobbes the states purpose and reason of existence. With Hobbes, the political acquires an instrumental character and serves individual survival. No cultivation of virtue, but the satisfaction of needs and wants defines the highest purpose of the Hobbesian state. Like Augustine and Bodin, Hobbes seeks to identify the right structure of sovereignty to establish who is and who is not entitled to exercise power. Yet, in Hobbes this concern responds to the achievement of effectiveness. No less pragmatic than Augustine in the evaluation of means to advance order, his main interest is the preservation of the state. The state becomes for Hobbes an end in itself, which he 14 The governing aspects of policing and their connection of differen t realms, namely individuals, families, neighborhoods, cities, and the state, are clearly grasp ed by Foucaults concept of governmentality.

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189 represents as the only structure that is able to provide humans with peace and security. But the substance that gives life to the state is sovereign power, which emerges from the peoples renunciation of their own power. Tired of the permanent danger of the state of nature, individuals institute a sovereign Commonwealth that creates a bond of absolute obedience. Our obedience strengthens sovereignty and sovereignty provides for safety. Therefore, we must concern ourselves just with obeying, for it is in our own convenience. The concrete ways of governing society and providing for security are the sole choice of the sovereign, who is also the only one entitled to judge between good and evil. Hobbes argument does not focus on matters of legitimacy, though, for the very exercise of sovereign power justifies its titular. He sees anyone attempting to overthrow the sovereign as an enemy of the Commonwealth. However, Hobbes argument eventually entitles legitimacy to a victorious enemy. In his political theory, the exercise of absolute power is self-validating. Hobbes alludes to policing in the figure of Constables, whose power he judges a legitimate delegation from the Sovereign and ultimately from God (Ch XLII). Practices of policing constitute a mandate of sovereignty to prevent its dissolution and our resistance to it. We entered the covenant seeking the preservation of our life according to the dictate of Nature, argues Hobbes. Then, how could we possibly renounce it? If individuals enter the covenant freely, there is no possibility to undo it once all have become its subjects. Moreover, it would be irrational for one to abandon the only scheme that is able to protect ones own life. It follows that the use of force by the sovereign against his subjects is both rational and legitimate.

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190 Policing is for Hobbes just a necessary extension of sovereign power to enforce the order of the Commonwealth. Sovereign power extends into armed men who force us to comply with the law or take us to prison if we do not. Guards, or other Souldiers of the Soveraign PowerŽ exist in all Common-wealthsŽ and are put in charge of the Execution of Corporeall Punishments.Ž And the reason why these men are armed arises from the only capacity that individuals do not resign through the covenant, which is the right to using force to defend themselves from force. Since individuals enter the covenant to secure their own life, it is rational for one to resist anything that puts life in danger. And this holds for all men, in that they lead Criminals to Execution, and Prison, with armed men, notwithstanding that such Criminals have consented to the Law, by which they are condemnedŽ (Ch. XIV). Both Bodin and Hobbess contributions to think of the power involved in policing highlight the sovereign character of the power involved in its exercise. The present study endorses their suggestions. Practices of policing are the clearest manifestation of sovereignty touching the body of individuals or taking individuals life. Acts of policing amount to acts of governance. As Bodin puts it, state officials in charge of policing constitute delegate sovereigns. The discussion of policing as a set of sovereign practices will be retrieved in account of the ideas of Giorgio Agamben in section three. However, this representation of policing as a bold sovereign practice is hardly ever acknowledged. Rather, policing tends to be seen as the auxiliary application of the law. The latter image takes inspiration neither from Bodin nor from Hobbes but from Locke. Like Hobbes, John Locke judges life, health, and wealth not as means but as ends in themselves. With him, political theory becomes an attempt to domesticate Leviathan,

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191 the sovereign monster, with laws. With Hobbes and Locke, debates on the worth of the political to help individuals to develop good and virtuous lives are gone. Power becomes an almost arithmetical method of administering individual rights through law. The rationale that they introduce replaces the classical political community with an addition of propertied and self-centered individuals who engage with common affairs and the government out of necessity only. From constituting the highest human activity, the political is turned into a nuisance. Lockes ideas undermine the political and represent a peak of depoliticization that accompanied the rise of modern representative systems in the West. Nowhere words such as policeŽ or guardsŽ appear in his Second Treatise on Government ; however, the quest for law and order permeates the entire system from its core. To start with, Locke defines political power as the Right of making laws with penalties of death, and consequently all less penalties, for the regulating and preserving of property, and of employing the force of the community, in the execution of such laws, and in the defence of the commonwealth from foreign injury; and all this only for the public good (Ch 1, Book II). In contrast to Hobbes, who assimilates the state or nature to chaos and war, Locke conceives of it as an already ordered society where humans are obliged not to harm another in his life, health, liberty, or possession sŽ (Ch. II). Locke argues that individuals create the state just to become better protected by law, which is the only means to turn their possessions into property. The search for legal protection leads the people to create a legislative power for there may be laws made, and rules set, as guards and fences to the properties of all the societyŽ (Ch. XVIII § 222). In the state of nature, individuals have a natural right to protect themselves, to make justice, and to punish crime. The introduction of civil government requires the renunciation of those rights and their

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192 transference to magistrates. Policing derives from the government and the authority of lower magistrates derives from that of the higher ones. The Lockean concept of the rule of law was discussed in chapter 1. As it was mentioned, Locke rejects the notion of unlimited power and attempts to check power with the law. He conceives of law and tyranny as opposite and calls to resist the despotic exercise of power by the authorities, especially of subordinate magistrates whom he describes as exercising police functions. But he exempts the monarch from subjection to the law. His solution consists in proposing to disregard the execution of commands of the monarch if they are against the law. In this respect, the Lockean argument questions principles such as due obedience within hierarchical organizations such as the military. But in spite of his calling to resist abuses of authority, Locke preserves its source. For he suggests us not to obey arbitrary orders, but he does not eliminate the existence of the arbitrary power from which those orders arise. His legacy carries dilemmas and contradictions. As I mentioned in chapter 1, current concerns with the rule of law in studies of democratization draw on a liberal understanding of the law that arises from the Lockean legacy. Alternative conceptions of policing and the law discussed in the next sections put in question the idea that the law can neutralize the personal element of exercise of (sovereign power). Enlightening Police All peoples become in the long run what the government makes them: warriors, citizens, men, when it so pleases; or merely populace and rabble, when it chooses to make them so. () Make men, therefore, if you would command men: if you would have them obedient to the laws, make them love the laws, and then they will need only to know what is their duty to do it (Rousseau, Discourse on Political Economy, 139).

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193 The Aristotelian and Ciceronian themes of the human suitability for virtue and the role of the political in its achievement reappear with the Enlightenment. Both Jean Jacques Rousseau and Immanuel Kant represent its highest point. In both of their perspectives the police appear as an instrument of peoples enlightenment and emancipation. They appeal to what they see as peoples inherent moral capacities and argue for the need to interiorize the law. The role of the police seems to arise from Rousseaus idea, presented in the Social Contract , of forcing people to be free (p. 195). For both Kant and Rousseau there is a need for the police to make individuals freely and willingly embrace the law. Eventually, though, the project of the Enlightenment would make policing occur without state intervention, because individuals would interiorize the norms to the point of becoming their own enforcers. The parallels between policing and governing come to light in Rousseaus Social Contract, where he defines the government as an intermediate bodyŽ that realizes the will of the sovereign through the execution of the laws and the maintenance of liberty, both civil and politicalŽ (p. 230). Like Plato, Rousseau likens the body politic to the human body. He sees that both the individual body and the body politic require will and force to act. Individual action arises from both the will which determines the actŽ and the power which executes itŽ (p. 229). The body politic also counts with will„the legislative power„and force„the executive power that allows it to realize its decisions (p. 229). As individual will forces our body to stay orderly, the government must maintain order in the body politic. Hence, policing appears as one of the main dimensions of government. But, eventually, Rousseau foresees the realization of a form of government that will not have to force citizens to comply with the law.

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194 For as he puts it in his Discourse on Political Economy , "a fool, if he be obeyed, may punish crimes as well as another: but the true statesman is he who knows how to prevent themŽ (p. 137). And the best form of preventing crimes is to make citizens love their laws, because the most absolute authority is that which penetrates into a man's inmost beingŽ (p. 139). Contrary to Machiavelli, who advises the Prince that is safer to be feared than loved, Rousseau argues that peoples love makes authority stronger than any form of tyranny and eases government to the point that it needs none of that art of darkness, whose blackness is its only mysteryŽ (p. 141). Rousseau urges the guardians of the public authorityŽ to make people love both their authorities and duties. However, he is aware that such a goal will be attained only when the government embraces the law first and the whole police forceŽ stops acting for the exclusive safety of the wealthy (p. 141). The theme of citizens love for the law displaces policing inwards. The enforcement of rules upon us should not arise from external forms of state intervention, but just from ones own bodily force, which we should train to supporting the individual will. If this were the case, policing would not be needed. No punishment, no torture, no secret police, no intrigues, no mysteries would remain among us if we took the law, governing, and policing in our own hands. Rousseaus appeal to reason and virtue seeks to clean up the somber sides of both the state and the soul. Kant agrees with Rousseau on the human disposition for moral action. In his Critique of Practical Reason , he concerns himself with the problem of the transit between moral principles and action. Concretely, his question is how to make individuals first interiorize abstract moral principles and then organize their actions according to them to

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195 make the objectively practical reason subjectively practical also.Ž The philosopher argues that human beings make moral principles rule their will and action because of understanding the law and the objective necessity of obeying it as our duty.Ž By interiorizing the moral law, we gain dignity, character, and independence of mind. However, he acknowledges that the exhibition of pure virtueŽ may not be effective in convincing people to act according to the law. Hence, Kant (p. 125) admits the need for some preparatory guidanceŽ to bring an uncultivated or degraded mind into the track of moral goodness.Ž And this is how policing appears justified by Kant, as one of the mechanicalŽ procedures available to make people comply with the law. But he thinks of these forms of intervention just as leading-stringsŽ or a first, temporary, resource. As he sees it, Even at this puppet-stageŽ individuals are not that alienated from reason not to feel that there is something wrong, and they tend to consulate themselves by imagining a supposed natural or divine lawƒto have connected with it a sort of police machinery, regulating its operations by what was done without troubling itself about the motives for doing it. Kant seems confident that, through time, individuals will apprehend the pure moral motiveŽ and learn to live in accordance to the law without being forced to it by anybody but themselves. He judges the human mind naturally receptive to the pure moral interest,Ž which is the most powerful springŽ moving us to realize virtue through action. External intervention over peoples moral behavior is legitimate only if it is transitory. It is justified on grounds of the education of individuals. It should continue until everyone internalizes the law. Otherwise, peoples behavior would be changed into mere mechanism, in which, as in a puppet-show, everything would gesticulate well, but there would be no life in the figures.Ž That being the case, legality of actions might be produced, but not morality of character.Ž The police for Kant are legitimate only to the

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196 extent that its forms of external intervention lead individuals to embrace and internalize the law. But until the police vanish together with the need for it, Kant justifies their intervention. In his Science of Right , the police appear included within the administration of the national economy as an external safeguard to guarantee peoples compliance with moral principles. Kant charges them with overseeing for public safety, convenience, and decencyŽ while guarding against begging, disorderly noises, offensive smells, public prostitution (Venus vulgivaga), or other offences against the moral senseŽ that undermine the morality of public life. If both publicity and the public sphere play a special role in the emancipation of the species, then the police constitute one of its lightening tools. Kant justifies the need for a police right of inspectionŽ on behalf of the state, to make sure that no secret society, political or religious, exists among the people that can exert a prejudicial influence upon the public weal.Ž However, he limits police interference in individuals private life, thus searches in peoples homes should be held only if authorized by a higher authority.Ž As counterintuitive as it may appear to us, both Rousseau and Kant judge the police an instrument of enlightenment and emancipation. If eventually some individuals had to be forced into freedom, the police would be the rational tool to provide for it. These references to policing are among the most democratic in the canon. However, just because the project of the Enlightenment internalizes violence it does not make it disappear. In their argument, the police vanish simply because everyone starts to police oneself. The project of interiorizing the law as a precondition for overcoming it

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197 appears as the ideal for a democratic society.15 But it is still not clear how we could reach a state of individual self-policing in such a way that the organization of policing as a collective activity is not necessary anymore. The Political Economy Link to Police Pasquale Pasquino exposes the origins of modern political economy as a branch of the science of police. Among the founding fathers of political economy, police embeds the organization of production, circulation, and consumption. As in the Athenian agora, where trade, policing, and the political all take place, the founders of political economy were aware of the need to keep processes of production and distribution of goods orderly. The links between economics and the police expose for us the perennial need for the people to oversee the proper development of the material reproduction of life. For the moderns, the police provide for the proper manners and habits and the degree of civilization that make mercantile exchange possible. Neocleous identifies a parallel emergence of the idea of the modern police both in continental Europe and in Britain. He reconstructs debates and recuperates testimonies that unveil how the same doctrines and practices developed in both the continent and Britain, although in the latter the agents of policing were understood as carrying out policy rather than being policeŽ (p. 10). Sir James Steuart, the founder of modern political economy, writes favorably about police. But Smiths shifting appreciation for police appears as a crucial case in support of Neocleous interpretation. 15 The greatest victory is a well-ordered soul.Ž (Thiele 1990, p. 65) . If one can share Rousseau and Kants commitment democratic politics, Nietzsche exposes the violence hidden behind Reason and shows that modern individuality results from tu rning violence against oneself and interio rizing complex and painful mechanisms of self-policing. The disappearance of a society of masters and slaves sought by the enlightenment reveals to Nietzsche a project of universal enslavement of the human soul and inner mastery that corrupts and corrodes freedom and the true meani ng of human life. The subject of psychoanalysis and the Kafkian subject would soon appear as the unforeseen result of approp riating state violence and turning it inward.

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198 Whatever regulations are made with respect to the trade, commerce, agriculture, manufactures of the country are considered as belonging to the police,Ž says Smith in his Lectures on Jurisprudence . In this work, Smith classifies political economy as the main branch of police and charges it with promoting the opulence of the state.Ž Smith assigns the police to the prevention of crime. But more important is his understanding of police as a guarantee for the proper functioning of the market. In this account, the police must oversee the adequate supply and right price of commodities. The Wealth of Nations exposes a dramatic shift. In this book, Smith subordinates the police to the administration of justice. He charges it with protecting every member of the society from the injustice or oppression of every other member.Ž But he also argues that the sole establishment of commerce and manufacturesƒ[is] the best police for preventing crimes.Ž From that on, his metaphor of the invisible handŽ made the science of policeŽ pale. The ideas presented in Wealth of Nations constitute a key contribution to liberalism against police. It represents order as arising from automatic mechanisms and processes. The appearance of the market as a Deus ex Machina able to provide for wealth, justice, order, and happiness, leaves the science of police reduced to legal questions concerning crimeŽ (Neocleous). Neocleous suggests that Smiths travels through the Continent and his closer contact with the French model of police state made him reject such an authoritarian project and look for alternatives to it. The reader may think of these aspects of policing as aged. However, theorists who engage with the police such as Foucault, Benjamin, or Neocleous, as well as police officers themselves,16 suggest that the modern police still perform a diversity of 16 See the discussion of police officers repres entations of police functions in chapter 4.

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199 functions. Along these lines, Helene lHeulliet concludes that it is not a difference of objects, but just a difference of emphases, what distinguishes 18th century and 21st century police forces.17However, after the creation of Londoner BobbiesŽ in 1829, police became a synonym with (good or bad, depending of who tells the story) professional police forces in charge of protecting property, life, and liberty, or the rule of law. Political economy (later on reduced to just economicsŽ) was given the status of a science of its own, and the connections between police and political economy were forgotten. But the roots of the Peelian police in corporate policing exposed by Shearing and Johnston, the current expansion of private policing, and multiple forms of state surveillance of the economy suggest that those connections are still there. We must turn to light what has been forgotten in current representations of the police as mere law enforcers. For the democratization of policing also demands democratizing these aspects of surveillance of the economy. When governments, mostly but not only in new democracies, miss enforcing rules to guarantee the quality of the goods made by companies, or when the collection of taxes and environmental standards are only selectively enforced, we witness an antidemocratic form of policing the market. 17 Cette police s'occupe de tout, inaugurant ainsi une tradition qui persiste jusqu 'à nos jours dans les attributions de la police admini strative. L'opposition étab lie par Michel Foucault entre la police ancienne qui « englobe tout » et « veille au vivant », c'est-à-d ire entre le sens « étroit et vague », voire péjoratif, de la police d'aujourd'hui, et celui des XV IIème et XVIIIème siècles supposé « large et précis » [15] ne doit pas se comprendre comme une différence d'objets, mais comme une différence d'accents. La police, selon Delamare, ne surveille pas les comportements pour chasser les criminels mais réprouve le crime comme entrave aux mœurs. La trad ition « pastorale » de la police en vertu de laquelle celle-ci peut-être considérée comme moins romaine que chrétienne [16] trouve son origine dans le souci des mœursŽ (L'Heuillet, Hélène. La généalogie de la policeŽ).

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200 Hegel and Marx Political philosophers refer to activities and magistrates involved in policing. Yet police magistrates appear in the background as a mere prolongation of the body of the sovereign. Whereas the police gained philosophical recognition with the Enlightenment, both Rousseau and Kant consider it only a provisory, contingent tool of moralization. Hegel is the first thinker that gives the police a permanent philosophical status. He is a true philosopher of the police. In his Philosophy of Right , he situates the police as a link between civil society and the state. He defines civil society as the realm organized around the market. Driven by individual interest and necessity only,Ž civil society reveals only fragments of the universal through a series of individual cases that materialize a system of needsŽ (§ 229). The market considers individuals as isolate entities. This is why the blind multitudinous process of satisfaction of individual needs through the market creates unexpected unbalances and injustices. Balance and justice can only be advanced by an instance of the universal represented by public authorities. The police are one of them. Through minute and constant interventions, the police reconcile and subordinate the particular to the universal. The specific function of the Police,Ž says Hegel, consists of actualizing and extending the universal throughout civil society. By protecting us from crime, by canceling offences against property or personality,Ž by guaranteeing individuals rights and overseeing that their exercise does not damage others, the police extend the universal over the whole field of particularityŽ (§230, §229). As he puts it,

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201 Despite the fact that police intervention can only realize a glimpse of the universal, the oversight and care exercised by the public authority aims at being a middle term between an individual and the universal possibility, afforded by society, of attaining individual ends. It has to undertake street-lighting, bridge-building, the pricing of daily necessaries, and the care of public health (Hegel, § 236). Hegel links the police to the public provision of welfare, the need for which arises from the dissolution of the family and the atomization of individuals caused by industrialization. There is a need for balance, and the police are the institution that advances it in practical terms. Especially between 1841 and 1844, Karl Marx confronted Hegelian motifs one by one. During those years, he examined questions of law, freedom, and justice in reference to both civil society and the state. Hegels writings on the state expose what Marx judges the mysteriesŽ of state domination. He mentions the proximity between executive and the administrative power embodied in the police and the bureaucracy. Marx acknowledges Hegels insights on the power of bureaucracies and concedes that the administration proper is the most difficult point of the development.Ž Marx recognizes the dangers of bureaucratic power. However, he hopes for its abolition. Marx thinks that the bureaucracy will be abolished when a rea l subsumption of the private interest by the universal is advanced in a classless society. Marx also questions the Hegelian understanding of executive power. Hegels assimilation of the executive, police, and judiciaryŽ ignores the customary opposition of administrative and judiciary powers,Ž says Marx. He concludes that such blending is not a feature of the state but that it just arises from Hegels attempt to legitimize the Prussian state. However, my discussion of police power in the next sections and the argument on the place of police power within the state apparatus in chapter 5 give reason to Hegel. Let us see why.

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202 In The Jewish Question,Ž Marx assimilates the concepts of security and police and uses them as a prism to examine the nature of bourgeois society. He sees that capitalist societies consecrate security as their supreme social conceptŽ and that the whole society exists only in order to guarantee for each of its members the preservation of his person, his rights and his propertyŽ (p. 43). Hegels justification of the role of the police in advancing security appears to Marx as another mystification. The police do not elevate civil society above its egoismŽ as Hegel proposes, but police and security constitute just the assurance of its egoismŽ (p. 43), says Marx. Police and security become for Marx synonymous for the defense of the private, which in his perspective stand not as privacy but as usurpation of the communal, species-like human interest.18This is one of the main insights giving inspiration to Neocleous thorough theoretical examination of the subject of police in The Fabrication of Social Order . Neocleous pushes further Marxs suggestions in the attempt to move the theory of police beyond the parameters defined by liberalismŽ (p. 44). The primacy of security for Liberalism, and its transformation of police into a technique of liberal securityŽ (p. 47) reveal for Neocleous the permanent threat under which private property exists as well as the preeminent class nature of police. Elaborating on Marx, Neocleous presents the police as an institutional mechanism of containment of the poor that facilitates the private 18 In fact, Marx seems to suggest that practices of policing, organized around the quest for security, are key in the (re)production of men and women as egotistic and privat e individuals. It is the police and police mechanisms the ones that achieve th e new subjections of capitalism de nounced by Marx, although the system is explicitly based upon righ ts. However, Marx shows that all basic individuals rights are not more than empty shells. In The Eighteenth Brumaire , for example, he comments on liberalism tendency to declare individual rights only to i mmediately undermining them in the name of public safetyŽ or the rights of others,Ž a tendency that he shows pervades Republican constitutions such as the 1848 French Constitution.

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203 appropriation of both means of production and surplus within capitalism, once the poor are recognized citizenship (p. 44). Several passages of Capital expose the complicity of the state with factory owners. He argues that the state lends them its police to accelerate the accumulation of capital by increasing the degree of exploitation of labourŽ (VIII, Ch. 29). But Marx, continuously harassed himself by the police, opts for ironizing about it. He exposes the violence and corruption that result from the class theft and exploitation patronized by the state police. He refers to it as a contingent function of class domination, as an instrument to carry out and preserve private expropriation, and a tool of containment of the poor perfected by capitalism. The 1871 Paris Commune posed the problem of how to organize a new form of state. Marxs analyses of the Paris Commune and his Critique of the Gotha Program insinuate a more nuanced and ambiguous approach to the police with vivid images and insight on police power. Despite his awareness on the dangers of police power, though, Marx seems confident that its perils would disappear with the class society that created them. Perhaps because of these beliefs, Marx left those intuitions and insights undeveloped, apparently with the impression of having superseded Hegel. But perhaps this was not the case in what refers to the police. The Hegelian thesis on the unity of executive power, administration, and the bureaucracy seems key to understanding police power and state power in general. His concerns with intervening to compensate for uneven social development appear also insightful. Even if just following the empirical existences of the Prussian or Modern state (as it is)Ž (Marx), Hegel singled out a series of

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204 problems of governance that still haunt us and will probably continue accompanying us despite changes in relations of property and production. Although I endorse Neocleous' critique of police. I want to argue that we should be more critical of Marxs blind spots in relation to police power, blind spots which still characterize most of the Left. The general lack of interest of Marx and Marxian theorists on the police responds to the assumption that policing in a post-capitalist society would simply not exist or that it rather would be done by individuals themselves in a straightforward and unproblematic manner. But by suggesting that the only kind of social order that needs to be maintained and reproduced is the class society, the Marxian dismissal of police appears as a mirroring correlate of the naturalization of individuals and the reification of the market that Marx himself criticizes in the bourgeois imaginary. Marxs neglect of the police and his contempt toward them makes us especially vulnerable to authoritarian forces coming from both the outside and the inside across time. The danger is, as Giorgio Agamben puts it, that one ends up identifying with an enemy whose structure one does not understandŽ (1998, p. 12). As this image suggests, the dismissal of the state and questions of governance by the Left seem to lie behind the demise of 20th centurys revolutions. Without a thorough critique of the concept of police, we will continue reproducing the liberal understanding of policing, which Marx„ preoccupied with superseding Hegel„seems to have never abandoned. But the problems identified by Hegel in relation to both the police and the bureaucracy became visible with the preeminent role that the police, and the political police, came to perform under totalitarian regimes, or police states,Ž during the 20th century. We tend to think of the role of the police under those regimes as an anomaly, but

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205 this insight seems correct only with respect to the extension of police intervention under totalitarianism. Other than this, the type of police practices, police imaginaries, police narratives, and the goal to turn society transparent to police surveillance are not exclusive features of totalitarianism but are instead contained in the modern project of police. Democratizing policing needs to address these problems. Let us see what those who lived under totalitarian rule have to say. Ghostly Totalitarianisms Nazism or Stalinism placed their secret police at the core of the system. These experiences threatened to displace the political with police. The colonization of life by the police under them triggered isolated but powerful critical accounts. Arendts discussion of totalitarianism is one of the brightest. Eventually, policing found implacable judges among those who represented the aristocratic critique of the state, the Liberal state, and mass politics, such as José Ortega y Gasset. And whereas most of the Left referred to the police with clear but plain disdain, Antonio Gramsci and Walter Benjamin, witnesses and victims of Fascism and Nazism, insightfully grasped the formless and lawless core of police power. Arendt (1970, p. 55) defines totalitarianism as a police state in which terror asphyxiates the political and usurps its place until it disappears entirely.Ž Totalitarian rule relies on the spread of general suspicion and fear. Other than the official dogma, ideas are banned, all behavior becomes public, and even minor gestures are criminalized. As the rule of terror, totalitarianism depends on the atomization of society, which is produced by police mechanisms of surveillance and spying. Key in this endeavor are informers, who under this form of rule may be just anyone.

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206 Totalitarian states are full of informers. Arendt (1961, p. 99) discusses the dynamics by which the citizenry turns into informers of the political police. She uses the image of an onion to represent totalitarian regimes. A structure centered on the leader oppresses people from withinŽ at the same time that preserves an appearance of normalcy in the exterior rings of the organization. Eventually, totalitarianism materializes the police dreamŽ of being able to locate anyone on a map at any moment and to know to whom and in what degree anyone is related, says Arendt. Neocleous questions Arendt for confining to totalitarianism characteristics that pertain to police power in general. Most if not all the images and examples that Arendt uses to construct her category of totalitarianism, says Neocleous, consist of regular police techniques. It is usual for the police to have informers, to draw maps, and to know how to locate individuals on those maps. We know everything about you: who you, your father, and your friends are.Ž19 Neocleous contends that the police dreamŽ that Arendt attributes to totalitarianism is the police dream as such, eve n of the police in liberal democracies. It is no more than the dream of state powerŽ (p. 117). Neocleous' critique of Arendt extends her theses to the entire police project. Some of the most acute assessments of police power and the state apparatus arise from the aristocratic critique of m odern politics. José Ortega y Gasset identifies the modern state as both the major achievement of the European culture and the gravest dangerŽ to civilization. In his account, the state results from the assemblage of multiple techniques of public order and administrationŽ that are mounted by society to achieve security. Differently from Marx, Ortega sees security as a main value for the masses. But the state has grown to a point that the skeleton eats up the flesh around itŽ and sucks 19 Interview with police officer, Argentina, June 2003.

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207 societys life and individuality. Ortega sees the state as a machine that gains a life of its own at the expense of the populations. In ancient times, Ortega identifies similar dynamics in the passage from patrician, Republican, Rome, to the Roman Imperial structure. He sees the growth of the Roman state as the cause of the decay of its population. And also the modern state apparatus will bring about the dissolution of current civilization, argues Ortega. The enormous increase in the police force of all countriesŽ offers to him a vivid example of this danger: However accustomed we may be to it, the terrible paradox should not escape our minds that the population of a great modern city, in order to move about peaceably and attend to its business, necessarily requires a police force to regulate the circulation. But it is foolishness for the party of "law and order" to imagine that these "forces of public authority" created to preserve order are always going to be content to preserve the order that that party desires. Inevitably, they will end by themselves defining and deciding on the order they are going to imposewhich, naturally, will be that which suits them best. The aristocratic critique of modern politics concludes in Ortega with the impossibility of the Lockean project of controlling Leviathan. But the monstrous facet of the state finds echo in the ghostly image that the police reveals to Benjamin. In his Critique of Violence , Benjamin characterizes all forms of violence as either lawmaking or law-preservingŽ (p. 243). He sees that fundamental laws and institutions are created through violent acts. However, constituted power hides its own violent roots. It does so by making the lawmaking potential of violent action illegal. Thus, those in power reserve the use of violence for themselves and prevent others from overthrowing them. If violence lies at the foundation of the law, it also preserves it. The uses of violence legalized by the state require a strict differentiation between its lawmaking and law-preserving functions, with the sole exception of the police. For the state authorizes

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208 those in charge of policing to use indistinctly both forms of violence, the one that creates and the one that preserves the law. Whereas the state made all other institutions specialize, the ambiguous relation of the police to violence results their lack of any essential feature. This formlessness of the police makes possible for them to intervene for security reasons in countless cases where no clear legal situation existsŽ (p. 243). Benjamins touches upon the core feature of police power that this dissertation addresses, namely police discretion. Despite how minute police handbooks may be, it is up to police officers to judge any situation or individual as threatening or harmless, and their judgment is accompanied with the legitimate use of state violence, which in most countries police officers monopolize. The actual vagueness of their power and the threat that it represents for citizens makes Benjamin qualify the police as a ghostly presence in the life of civilized statesŽ (p. 243). Challenging Republicanism: The Character of Police Power The police are expected to preserve the law. However, they enjoy wide margins of choice between laws and rules. They also need to interpret them in their application to particular circumstances. This possibility equates police prerogatives to lawmaking power. The exceptional status of the police, their formlessness and ghostly traits perceived by Benjamin overlap with Gramscis account on the polices de facto extraordinary powers. In 1921, Gramsci writes on the Italian Parliament, which he judges powerless before the extraordinary prerogatives of the police. He describes how police officers could hold citizens in custody for an unlimited period by a simple administrative decision.Ž The abuse of this power by the police led to the frequent massacres of those in custody.Ž Gramsci questions the opinion that attributed those powers to the conditions

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209 emerging from WWI. He suggests instead that it is the very structure of the state that makes such power possible. Not just a few police officers, but Every agent of the police force, every armed functionary of the government, felt that he was invested not merely with the executive role of executioner, but also with the roles of legislator and judge: he could restore the death penalty, pronounce the verdict and carry out the sentence on the spot. Gramsci presents police power as a fusion of the powers that the republican principle assumes to be divided. De facto legislators, judges, and executioners, those in charge of policing substantiate the sovereign power that the liberal state promises us to eliminate. Involving the interpretation and (re)creation of laws and norms as well as their execution, the place of the police within the republican division of powers is inconclusive. Police power is power of what kind: Is it executive, legislative, or judicial? As Kenneth Culp Davis recognized long ago, far more justice is administered outside courts than in themŽ (p. 56). Policing involves the exercise of judicial functions. This is clear to students of police discretion, for through the exercise of discretion patrolmen define and redefine the meaning of justiceŽ (Brown 7). Those in charge of policing act as judges whenever there is a need to establish if a law has been violated. They decide whether to intervene. In case of intervening, they have a wide range of means to choose. The patrolman is often confronted with the need to be a judge whether he likes it or notŽ (p. 49). Moreover, situations calling for this type of judgment are routine for the police. Accordingly, Neocleous observes that more decisions of a judicial type, in he form of interpreting and determining the rule of law, are made by the police than by the judiciary and courtsŽ (p. 104). Police power thus appears as a type of judicial power.

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210 But Hegel explicitly defines the police as an extension of executive power, for it is the concrete instrument of realization of legislative, judicial, and executive decisions. The same suggest both Locke (§ 153) and Rousseau, who conceive of power as fundamentally executive. The police have the unique prerogative of arresting individuals and using force. Thus, police power is both judicial and executive power. As if this were not enough, police officers act as de facto legislators with crucial policy-making powersŽ (Brown 5). For policing involves decisions on which existent laws to enforce and which ones to ignore. Whereas these decisions do not create laws, they give the laws existence. Police officers decisions redefine societys legal frameworks on a micro and daily basis. Quasi-legislative and quasi-judicialŽ dispositions characterize the actions of state administrators and especially of the police (Neocleous, p. 104). Neocleous highlights the natural fitness of the police to move across functions with an aura of independence which no other institution of the state appears to haveŽ (p. 106). Police power challenges the republican division of power on a systematic basis. For laws and decisions require execution, which is charged to the police. Should we stretch the republican framework to include this amorphous power? Should the acknowledgment of police power challenge the very concept of the division of power? Police power reveals itself to be more than the mere or neutral auxiliary of the law that liberalism describes. The police are an organ of government that embodies simultaneously the capacities of all the three powers of the state.20 The police are invested with sovereign power. Seen in this light, the police emerge as the first and 20 Agamben identifies the provisional abolition of the distinction among legislativ e, executive, and judicial powersŽ as One of the essential characteristics of the state of exceptionŽ (2005, p. 7).

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211 decisive line of government. Invested with the monopoly of legitimate force, police officers reproduce and recreate a minute but complete state. Acts of governance are performed at any given moment through encounters between police officers and individuals. As Timothy Mitchell suggests, no state could exist without a constant reenactment of these performances. With focus on the English and American traditions, Gregory Howard Williams (1984, p. 14) evokes the many cases in which the police acted as an independent agencyŽ in exercise of broad law enforcement powers,Ž invested with legislative and judicial functions as well.Ž The multiple, overlapping, and hybrid functions subsumed in policing pose us with a quandary. Whereas the liberal state introduced the division of power against against sovereignty and the Polizeistaat, the effective authority of the three state powers ultimately relies on the police. The remedy that was intended against the police has become a police prerogative. Police power gives support to the Hobbesian thesis on the indivisibility of power that contradicts the liberal state. In sum, the police expose the anti-liberal core that sustains the state apparatus also in liberal democracies. Insofar, this review should have exposed key aspects of police power that are not even considered in studies of democratization. The democratization of policing needs to take all these dimensions, as well as the complexity of police power, into account. For, as lHeuillet argues, current police forces still em body (and exercise) all these forms of power. This dissertation proposes to imagine forms of democratizing police power by taking all its dimensions into account. Unless we characterize the power that is involved in policing and discuss how to democratize its exercise, projects of police reform will continue failing. But this review still wants to present the contribution of postmodern

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212 theorists to characterize policing. After all, they are the ones who, after Foucault, gave the police visibility. Let us assess their contribution. The Postmodern Critique of Policing Post-modern theorists21 resemble the conservatives in their concern with order. Unlike them, postmodern political theorists examine how order is produced through practices and thinking. Practices of policing are key to materializing categories of order and to place individuals along them. In the Western tradition, they realize the corporal, social, spatial, and moral hierarchies that ground our societies and selves. Peter Stallybrass and Allon White scrutinize the hierarchies that organize Western ontology. They show that we perceive our bodies, geographical space, culture, and society in terms of high and low. For example, truth, good, and beauty occupy the top of those hierarchies. We order our communities and souls according to them. Stallybrass and White see these realms interconnected. Changes in our ways of representing the body, space, culture or society have major consequences on our representation of the other three realms. But high and low are also relational. What is considered lowŽ is necessary for the definition of the highŽ (p. 3). The lowŽ both triggers rejection and becomes an object of desire. Stallybrass and White examine the 19th century association between police, light, soap, and morality. Practices of policing continuously refashion and settle boundaries between realms. As police officers themselves put it, they are in touch with the underworld,Ž which amounts to whatever a society defines as its lower, external, parts. Most police officers judge a colleague good if he or she is able to transit the grayŽ areas 21 This is not the place to discuss the meaning of postmodernism, which I am using as a convention to give a thread to the argument. For a thorough discussion of postmodernism, see Lyotard. Also Thiele (1997) offers an excellent account of what political theorists understand by postmodernism.

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213 between legal and criminal behavior without becoming themselves contaminatedŽ by crime or evil. We all know how difficult that is. Their contact with all gradients of social order makes the police occupy a dubious place in society. If the definition of the high depends on the low, someone must be defined as a criminal for someone else to become a law-abiding citizen. Mitchell also recognizes binary patterns in Western ontology. Following Foucault, he reconstructs the ways in which modern disciplinary power frames subjectivities, spaces, and ideas and distributes them in high and low. Mitchell argues that our fundamental distinctions between body and soul, reality and representation, are manufactured through practices such as policing. The military and the police are the tools through which a political definition of order inscribes in the social world a new conception of space, new forms of personhood, and a new means of manufacturing the experience of the realŽ (p. ix). Policing produces these categories and differences. It generates the categories that orders. By police instinct,Ž police officers denote the capacity to perceive something out of place.Ž A person who looks poor walking in a rich neighborhood, a luxurious car in a shantytown, an adult among children, a foreigner, a person who looks different from the rest, are common examples they offer. But it was Foucault who first characterized this form of power. He describes the transformation of power from a regime of sovereigntyŽ to a regime of disciplineŽ between the 18th and the 19th centuries. Whereas sovereignty centers on the right to seize individuals lives and property, discipline consists of performing positive interventions that transforms individuals i.e., through education (1984, pp. 259-63). Power in

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214 modernity operates mostly by organizing and potentiating life. It organizes and channels bodily forces to make them more productive. Individual discipline, exercise, regular meals, proper sexual activities, result not from death threats but from forms of intervention over the body that displace the center of interest from inflicting death to controlling life. Foucault sees power in modern society as a network of decentered, capillary relationships that subject us all. Power is not mere repression. It positively shapes our selves. Power is everywhere. It reaches into the very grain of individuals, touches their bodies and inserts itself into their actions and attitudes, their discourses, learning processes and everyday livesŽ (1972, p. 39). Through disciplines, power controls our bodies and molds our individual desires. Foucault does not dismiss state power. Yet, he sees the state mostly as coordinating the reproduction of some forms of power while impeding others. Foucault suggests that the state built itself ultimately from expropriating, secularizing, and spreading techniques of individualization and universal interpellation developed by the Church. It is in this context that we need to understand the Foucauldian contribution to think of both the police and the state. The concept of governmentality links both police and state and exposes the reciprocal constitution of power techniques and forms of knowledgeŽ (Lemke 191). This enlarged concept of power grounds his definition of government as "the right disposition of things" and individuals in their relationships (208). The actions of the government reveal an imbrication of mechanisms of governing the soul, the body, the family, groups, and society in general. Foucault exposes how the modern project of police approaches

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215 these realms as different but imbricate arenas that must be governed according to the same principles. Governmentality then denotes the arrangement of techniques, institutions, knowledge, and apparatuses of securityŽ (219-220) aiming to maintain the population orderly.22Foucault: Police and Biopolitics No crime means no police. What makes the presence and control of the police tolerable for the population, if not fear of the criminal? If we accept the presence in our midst of these uniformed men, who have the exclusive right to carry arms, who demand our papers, who come and prowl on our doorsteps, how would any of this possible if there were no criminals? And if there werent articles every day in the newspapers telling us how numerous and dangerous our criminals are? (Michel Foucault, Prison Talk,Ž p. 47). Foucault defines police as a series of techniques for the transmission of principles of right government from the top to the bottom of society created by the state (p. 207). Police defines a key mechanism of governance through minute forms of intervention on peoples bodies. Governmentality is achieved through policing. Foucaults references to the police first appeared in relation to the prison, which first appeared over the end of the 18th century, as a project for the transformation of individualsŽ (1972, p. 39). But already in the early 19th century people discussed the complete failure of prisons in reforming individuals and making them productive citizens. Instead of work, prisons promoted criminality. Why then were they preserved? Foucault argues that criminals turned out to be useful, in the economic domain as much as the 22 Foucaults concept of govern mentality shows that government results forms of political rationalityŽ and technologies of power,Ž consisting respectively of re presentations and forms of interventionŽ (191). These dimensions seem consistent with the distinction between narratives and practices drawn in my study. I would only suggest that both forms of political rationalityŽ and forms of interventionŽ are transmitted and legitimized through narrativ es, and both of them then inform practices.

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216 politicalŽ (p. 40). For the existence of crime and criminals gives the state opportunities for intervention. The state learned to turn criminals into informers and secret police agents. From that on, says Foucault, the police used criminals as agents of surveillance and infiltration, preventing and breaking strikes.Ž Crime was to be controlled and administered by the state and criminals were legally and symbolically isolated and used by the police against the poor. The moment someone went to prison a mechanism came into operation that stripped him of his civil status, and when he came out he could do nothing except become a criminal once again. He inevitably fell into the hands of a system which made him either a pimp, a policeman or an informer (pp. 41-2). The isolation of criminals was reinf orced by the appearance of both detective novels and newspaper crime stories. They distinguished between good and bad poor people. They depicted criminals as dangerous for the rich and the poor alike. Further explorations led Foucault to realize that the organization of the modern police also responds to the needs of industrial capital. In pre-industrial Europe, criminals were tolerated and sometimes even seen as popular heroes. However, the kind of wealth created by modern industry required the elimination of such tolerance, says Foucault. For industry puts capital in the hands of workers. Only the moralization and control of workers could guarantee the preservation of capital. Both Christianity and the police emerged as major sources of moralization. From that on, the modern police worked on deactivating the threat that the poor posed to capital. They did so by infiltrating the poor and by drawing a line that split the poor into goodŽ and bad.Ž

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217 Universal and individualizing Foucault traces the origins of police in his essay Omnes et Singulatim. He presents the modern police as a secularized expression of techniques that were first assembled by the Church. The pastoral, this is how he calls it, consists of a model of power organized after the image of the herdsman and his flock. The herdsman/leader must take care simultaneously of both his herd and of each individual within it. He is accountable for them directly to God, who also appears depicted as a herdsman. The pastoral combines care with surveillance. It resorts to a series of techniques that reach everyone at once as an individual and as a member of a community. These forms of intervention over the self were almost unknown to the Greeks, says Foucault. He traces the origins of the pastoral to the ancient cultures of the Middle East. It reaches the Christians through the Jews. Its seeds are present in the Bible. Its universal reachall of us are Gods childrenand complete individualization the Message interpellates you, it is destined specifically to you, as we read it in St. Pauls Letter to the Romans make the pastoral a very effective form of discipline. The adaptation of these mechanisms by the state gives birth to the modern police. Despite its bucolic connotations, the pastorate of souls is an especially urban experience (Foucault, 1979, p. 241), argues Foucault. The techniques of internalization advanced by the pastoral require a certain level of culture of both herdsman and subjects, which the feudal society did not foster. Its implementation by the Church during the middle ages was limited. Only places such as monasteries could offer material conditions for practicing those sophisticated techniques of internalization. Pastoral techniques reappeared after the Renaissance as tools of the nation state. Between the 16th and the 18th centuries, the doctrine of the reason of state sought to do

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218 whatever was necessary to provide for the states preservation, happiness, and glory (p. 243).23 Far from Augustine and Bodins worries about the legitimacy of power, theorists of the reason of the state consider the state justified by its very existence. They see the state as a self-sufficient unit in competition with other states. Not justice, but strength, was the main quality sought by the nation state. For no government is possible in weakness, said theorists of the reason of the state. The doctrine of reason of the state settled general guidelines for the development of police (Foucault, 1979, p. 242; Dean, p. 201). The science of police,Ž referred earlier in this chapter, developed a modern, secular, framework, centered on the production of forms of order suited to the state. It adopted the caring aspects of the pastoral. Yet the states own health and interests were the sole determinant of which individuals are going to be taken care. The police appeared in this context as a governmental technology peculiar to the stateŽ (p. 247) that sought to (re)create order according to the states prosperity. Theorists of the reason of state distanced themselves from God, the Church, and the Prince, overlooked all transcendent hierarchies and justifications of power, and built a selfsufficient narrative of state sovereignty. These ideas spread through Europe in thousands of treatises on the police. 23 Theorists of the reason of state see the government as the art of gathering and assessing the right information to strengthen the state at the expense of others. Reason, wisdom, and prudenceŽ are appreciated within this context. Techniques were developed to assess the states st rength at any given moment, both in absolu te and relative terms. The cons tant evaluation of state resources and of the power of neighbors and possible enemies gave rise to the m odern sciences of administration and statistics. These ideas also organized the repertoire of cameralism (Neocleous 12ss), the German equivalent of mercantilism, which founded the German science of administration.

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219 Reason, order, happiness: From utopia to science Foucault tracks the growth of discourses on police from a utopian to a scientific terrain. He examines in detail a few treatises that best characterize this shift. The first treatise he chooses is Turquet de Mayennes, a 17th century French Utopian who addresses his work to Louis XIV. Turquet proposes to combine all the classical forms of political regime in view to a vital end, viz., the stateŽ (p. 247). Police defines a major aspect of government in Turquets scheme. It is as important as the army, the justice system, and the collection of taxes. What distinguishes police from the rest of the offices yet is its moral function. Police fosters modesty, charity, loyalty, industriousness, friendly cooperation, honestyŽ among the population. Yet polices moral aim is not an end in itself . It serves to strengthen the state through the orderly distribution and administration of people and things (p. 248). As Turquet sees it, police organizes peoples lives in both positive and negative ways. In its positive aspects, police organizes and provides the people with education, orients the election of professions, and makes work mandatory. The negative aspects involve taking care of the poor, the orphans, the elder, and the ill. It also incorporates the prevention and control of epidemics and natural disasters. In relation to things, Turquet charges police with overseeing trade and supply to determine the needs for production. It also has to control the use of space, including the supervision of properties and their transference, the check of roads, bridges, and public buildings, and the care of natural resources such as rivers and woods. The second treatise of police that Foucault comments is Nicolas Delamares. This work was one of the most influential among French and other European princes, high-

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220 ranking public officers, and jurists of the time.24 Delamare identifies eleven tasks of police, namely the preservation of (1) religion; (2) morals; (3) health; (4) supplies; (5) roads, highways, town buildings; (6) public safety; (7) the liberal arts (roughly speaking, arts and science); (8) trade; (9) factories; (10) manservants and labourers; (11) the poor.Ž Foucault compares Turquet with Delamare. Both of them see the regulation of social relations as the main function of the police. But Delamares account is more refined, for it includes a concern with peoples happiness. How do the police provide for peoples happiness? By administering and regulating life, by overseeing that life is properly developed, organized, maintained, and lived. This concern explains the polices interest in religion, hygiene, and economics, says Foucault. The same way that the moralizing effects of religion contribute to the preservation of an orderly life, so does hygiene. In turn, economic activity provides for lifes material reproduction. Stuart Elden links Delamare's ideas with the creation of the bodies of medical police to control public health and sanitary conditions in 18th century Germany, France, and Britain (p. 245). For Delamare, this emphasis on life also involves the police in the control of the poor and the avoidance of conflict. He sees that police intervention must channel peoples vital forces in such a way they do not turn against themselves. The police then must oversee that lifes pleasuresŽ enhance the moral quality of lifeŽ (p. 250). They have to control and censor art, literature, and entertainment. They must moralize the people to make them productive. In sum, the police intervene in all affairs, from a specific concern with life. From the perspective of the police, says Foucault, 24 The complete title is Traité de la police, où l'on trouvera l' histoire de son établisseme nt, les fonctions et les prérogatives de ses magistrats, toutes les loix et tous les règlements qui la concernent . Biblioteque of the Ville de Blois, http://www-02.v is/default-internet.asp.

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221 Men and things are envisioned as to their relationships: mens coexistence on a territory; their relationships as to property; what they produce; what is exchanged on the market. It also considers how they live, the diseases and accidents which can befall them. What the police sees to is a live, active, productive man (p. 248). Foucault judges Von Justis Elements of Police the culmination of the science of police. Foucault sees no utopian elements left in Von Justi. His treatise contains technical guidelines to govern the population along Polizei. Like Turquet and Delamare, Von Justi understands police as centered on the protection of live individuals living in society (p. 251). His analysis of police encompasses territory, population, and economic resources. A distinctive trait of his work is the shift from individual life to the life of the population. For Von Justi, individuals count only for their morals, their occupational capabilities, their honesty, and how they respect the Law (p. 251). Von Justi presents the main paradox that articulates the police, says Foucault. Police enables the state to increase its power and exert its strength to the full. However, the police are also expected to keep the citizens happy happiness being understood as survival, life, and improved living (p. 251). How can these contradictory interests be reconciled? The police solve the puzzle by fostering forms of life that promote the strength of the state (p. 251). The police subsume individual interests (freedom, happiness) to states needs. Strength, happiness, and worthy forms of life are defined against a hostile background. Police deal with both. Whereas Polizei consists of making both individual life and the state flourish, Die Politik involves fighting internal and external enemies (p. 251). The states strength requires protecting the life of its people through healthcare, welfare, and education. But it also leads to eliminate others whose lives the state judges unworthy through deportation, mass sterilization, genocides, and death camps. Police

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222 techniques are used in both cases. Foucault addresses these aspects of police in light of the emergence of racism and biopolitics during the 19th century, when he sees that the state openly engages the administration of life. This is what he calls biopolitics.25 While racial theories originated mostly in Britain during the 19th century, the most impressive biopolitical project developed in Nazi Germany. The police were its main executor. Foucaults analysis of the evolution of the science of policeŽ from a utopian to a handbook status discloses perennial functions of (the) police. Liberal democracies rely on the assumption that the modern, professionalized, state police emerged in opposition to the police project. But the police activities that Foucault unearths from these old treatises are still present in the modern police. The interviews with police officers introduced in the next chapter evidence that the administration and normalization of life are the main tasks of the police still these days. But it is Agamben who best illuminates the subject. Agamben: Sovereign biopolitical police In his essay Sovereign PoliceŽ and in scattered references through his work, especially in Homo Sacer , Agamben exposes police power as a form of sovereign power. In fact, he presents the police as the most clear embodiment of the figure of the sovereignŽ (1991, p. 103). While we saw that this association was already made by Bodin and Hobbes, Agamben follows Schmitt's concept of sovereignty which places sovereign power as an exercise that takes place outside the law. In Agamben's view, not only sovereign power is exercised outside the law, but it also grows by subjecting our lives. Foucault describes biopolitics as a modern form of power that replaces sovereign power. 25 Foucault defines biopolitics as the process by which the modern state advances over the administration of life. In the 19th century, the state incorporates biopolitical form s of intervention su ch as racism, policies of birth control, sexual education, and forced sterilization of the mentally ill. State policies based upon a biological rationale reached its peak in the Nazi gas chambers.

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223 Agamben revises the Foucauldian theses. Whereas Foucault sees biopolitics as a modern phenomenon, Agamben recognizes it at the foundation of Western politics in Ancient Greece. At least in the West, he says, all politics is biopolitics. He also conflates sovereign power and biopolitics. Both policing and the political consist of practices that differentiate between higher and lesser forms of life and make decisions on their fate. These practices recognize humanity and rights only to what is defined as higher forms of life. Conversely, they allow for the annihilation of forms of life defined as worthless. These practices are intrinsically biopolitical. The decisions that they advance are sovereign. Agamben draws on Aristotles distinctions between forms of life. As we saw before, Aristotles definition of man as a political animal is based upon excluding stateless beings from humanity. Agamben denounces the exclusion from humanity that founds Western politics in the Aristotelian text. Not being considered a citizen, not being considered human, amount to ones exclusion from the law. It follows that life that is defined as supra or subhuman, life that is not included in the realm of the law can be annihilated without this annihilation being considered murder. Because crime results from transgressing the law. If there is no law, there can be no crime. Let us say, once a Jewish, German national, is deprived of rights and citizenship, his or her elimination is not a murder. As vividly as Hannah Arendt and Hanz Magnus Enzerberger, Agamben describes the steps through which the Nazis excluded the Jews and other groups from the law and humanity. After that, they could be exterminated as lice.Ž This is Hitlers expression conveyed by Agamben, who sees Auschwitz as the utmost expression of Western biopolitics (1998, p. 114).

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224 Life constitutes the raw matter of sovereign power. Agamben describes inclusion and exclusion as two interrelated sides of Western politics. Spaces of reproduction of sovereignty define the key political institutions of modernity. Sovereign power displays its purest forms in the concentration camp. Genocides and concentration camps are not exceptional in Western politics, argues Agamben, but they define the darker side of political inclusion and citizenship. If a citizen is defined against the background of beings, who are not considered human, then liberal democracy develops against a background of annihilation. Auschwitz is a necessary result of the exclusionary nature of Western politics. Both political recognition and exclusion from the realm of humanity emerge from the same mechanism of capturing life. This mechanism produces sovereign power. Despite the existence of innumerable concentration or death camps through the world, Agamben considers those emplaced by the Nazis unique (1999). In those lawless spaces, the decisions of guards are not distinguishable from the law. There is no mediation between law, decision, and sovereign power. Agamben redefines Schmitts concept of sovereignty. In Political Theology , Schmitt defines the sovereign as he w ho decides on the exceptionŽ (p. 6).26 Agamben reformulates the sovereign decision as one that defines the status of life. Sovereignty for Agamben is biopolitical categorizing. Redefining the law through decisions about the status of life characterizes the practices of both guards in the concentration camp as well 26 Schmitt distinguishes between the normal situation regulated by the law, and the exception that is not codified in the existing legal orde rŽ (13). Since the excep tion cannot be subsume d into the existent laws, it challenges the entire legal system. Schmitt characterizes the sovereign as the one who solves the gap between the exception and the legal order through a deci sion. But this decision involves a previous one on whether this normal situatio n actually existsŽ (13) or if the s ituation instead must be defined as exceptional. Thus, for Schmitt the sove reign is the one who decid es on both the existen ce of a situation that exceeds the previsions of the legal order and on how to deal with such a situation. Schmitt argues that the whole legal system rests on the exception an d on the sovereign decisions that redefine it.

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225 as those of police officers. Agambens work exposes the common ground of exception shared by concentration camps and police practices (1991, p. 114). The police do not merely enforce the law as liberalism promises. Or, rather, the process of enforcing the law is neither neutral nor simple. What defines the police is not the enforcement of the law but the reproduction of sovereign power. They administer sovereignty on a case-by-case basisŽ (p. 104), says Agamben, and reproduce sovereign power through the classification and administration of life. Practices of policing open a space where the proximity and the almost constitutive exchange between violence and right that characterizes the figure of the sovereign is shown more nakedly and clearly than anywhere else.Ž Citizen encounters with the police are scenario of sovereign decisions. The proliferation of lawless spaces such as concentration and refugee camps, centers of detention of illegal immigrants or confinement of suspects such as in Guantanamo suggest the extension of the state of exception. These legal limbosŽ generate a space in which whether or not atrocities are committed depends not on law but on the civility and ethical sense of the police who temporarily act as sovereignŽ (1998, p. 174). Agamben examines borderline situations where the sovereign role of the police gains visibility. He detects the entrance of the concept of sovereignty in the figure of the policeŽ (1991, p. 104) and accounts for the investiture of the sovereign as policemanŽ (p. 105). Police officers make a sovereign decision over the status of our lives. Police decisions are sovereign decisions. They reopen de facto the state of exception, which suspends the law and conflates the legal order with the decision of individual police

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226 officers. From the moment that the police stop an individual on the street, the life of that individual is in the hands of the police officer. In such circumstances, ones life is left absolutely at the mercy of the police. These decisions found and preserve the law in exceptional situations defined by the police themselves. Agamben shows how the police, the political, and sovereign power overlap in their biopolitical interventions. Elaborating on Benjamins insights, he exposes police power as a power that is exercised outside the law. Far from merely enforcing the law, the exercise of policing goes behind the law and reopens the state of exception. Agambens analysis of police power allows us to understand the recurrence and scope of police abuse. His perspective challenges us to consider the possibility to democratize the exercise of power outside the law. Rancière: Police and the political Police responds to an ordering, depoliticizing drive, and acquires ontological status in Rancières work. Western philosophy has consisted mostly in the definition of comprehensive and orderly systems, says Rancière. These systems identify and order its component parts. Most systems have the form of hierarchies. Conceptual hierarchies inspire the organization of the real. Hierarchical forms of thinking amount to the principle that Rancière calls police.Ž Rancière conceives of the police as a certain manner of partitioning the sensibleŽ that arises in opposition to politics. Police and politics appear to Rancière as two antagonistic principles organizing social reality. He defines police as the ontological principle of arranging beings along a pre-defined, rigid, hierarchical order. This is how the principle of police appears at the core of Western philosophy. Rancière judges Plato its best representative. Platos ideal city illustrates the rationale of police. The Platonic ontology assimilates justice to a hierarchical order where different categories of beings docilely

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227 mind their own business. The Platonic model assigns worthiness to life according to its functionality within society, says Rancière. It distributes beings along fixed functional categories. Rancière sees this rationale shaping most of political philosophy. Classifications foster the illusion that everythingŽ has been listed. They make us feel that we can manage reality through them. But there is always a part that resists functional definitions. The Platonic, police project of partitioning the sensible is ultimately impossible because reality resists classification. Especially in the social world, taxonomies tend to be incomplete, problematic, non-exhaustive, contradictory, and full of overlapping categories. The principle of police turns cases that do not fitŽ into targets of all the violence of which the system is capable. This is for example the case of hermaphrodite Herculine Barbin studied by Foucault. The rest, the part of those who have no partŽ in society, are the ones who destabilize hierarchies through political action. According to Rancière, the political defines the moment in which all notions of order are put in question. Police imposes a hierarchy on beings; the political questions all hierarchies. Through the political, those who have no part point out to the contingent and political character of all forms of order. The police project tries to hide it. The principle of police stands as the opposite of the political (Thesis 4, 2001). The moment of the political opens up for democratic politics. Paradoxically, Plato founds Western political philosophy by eliminating the political. For the political consists of confronting hierarchies and forms of order from different perspectives. Police reifies the status of beings, whereas the political puts it into question. Rancière argues that, in Plato, police usurps the political. In the Platonic ideal,

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228 Rancière recognizes the police-principle at the heart of statist practicesŽ that articulates the social in the Western tradition (Thesis 7). After Plato, political philosophy has consistently attempted to eradicate the political and to replace it with police.27Like Agamben, Rancière exposes Western political theory as an attempt to police human nature. He also denounces the foundational exclusions built in the Aristotelian text. Speech stands as an indicator of ones participation of the Logos for Aristotle. Speechless beings, such as animals, slaves, and women are only able to make noise and occupy a lower ontological position for the philosopher. But on what makes ones words speech or noise Aristotle does not say. For both Agamben and Rancière it is clear that the division arises from a contingent decision. Agamben qualifies this decision as sovereign. Agamben and Rancières contributions suggest the impossibility to turn policing democratic. As Agamben, Rancière denounces the exclusionary aspects of the political since its appearance in Ancient Greece. He calls it police. Both Agamben and Rancières critiques suggest the impossibility to democratize policing. Although I disagree with them, they present very consistent arguments that tie into the core of the Western culture. The project of democratization of policing must address their concerns. They show deep reasons embedded in the foundation of Western politics that promote exclusionary politics and exclusionary forms of policing. Their arguments throw a large shadow on the possibilities of democratizing policing. I propose to take them as a challenge. Although I endorse their insights on police power, I think that we should not consider the struggle for 27 Carl Schmitt presents an argumen t that coincides with Rancières. Sch mitt argues that the political is a type of relation that arises only between equals, an argum ent to which also Arendt subs cribes. Within absolutist states, people were th e subject of police, not politi cs. The non-existence of equals converts government in just unilateral im position through policing. Tranqu ility, security, and order served to define the police. And in effect, at the (core) of this state, there was no but one police, with politics being absentŽ (1972, p. 45). In the absence of equ ality, politics was limited to hi gh politics,Ž which denoted the relations between sovereign states.

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229 the development of more egalitarian and fair relations of power. If police power reopens the state of exception, then our task is to imagine how to promote the performance of democratic practices outside the law. As it was mentioned before, the work with narratives that I discuss in chapter 4 seems to offer an alternative worthy exploring. Overall, when authors such as Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri show us that this rationale of police power exposed by Agamben has become global and undermines the political. Global police order Aristotle imagined a world defined by the Polis and its (hostile or at least inhuman) outside, a binary partition between inside/outside, worthy/unworthy that still continues framing our political imaginary. The Romans perfected the distinction by ruling out the use of force in the maintenance of order inside the polity. With the use of force reserved for the outside a clear distinction could be made between police and military power. Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri (2000) propose the existence of a global form of sovereignty that they call Empire. Global sovereignty reproduces itself through a complex array of juridical, governmental and military organs that respond to local crises in a rapid and continuous fashion.Ž This hypothetical new global dominion does not eliminate national powers, but reorganizes and subsumes them into a global space of sovereignty with no outside. Global sovereignty has no center, Hardt and Negri say, but spreads throughout a flexible network similar to the structure of transnational corporations. When the territory of power becomes only one and hegemonic definitions of order turn global, what the whole world needs is not war but policing.

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230 The constitution of a global territory entails the internalization of conflict, and turns wars into police operations.28 In turn, police action tends to become militarized. The authors highlight similarities between imperial war,Ž civil war, and police operation, which characterizes conflicts from Los Angeles and Granada to Mogadishu and SarajevoŽ (p. 189). The forms of intervention of global sovereignty lead to an increasing indistinction of law and exception, the police and the military. Empire grows through intervention, and constantly needs new opportunities to intervene. Imperial intervention presents itself as a police operation of restoration of democratic order (democratic order being defined by those who intervene). Imperial power looks like police power, and the use of police logic, police strategies, and police techniques, are key to the (re)production of imperial domination. In this globalized world, the authors argue, war has become the exclusive domain of administrative and police powerŽ (p. 345). War becomes reorganized as series of police operations. The blending between war and policing characterizes policies of state terror, such as those implemented in Latin America or Algeria during the Cold War years. Yet, it made its theoretical appearance with Jean Baudrillards es says on Gulf War I. He calls is soft war,Ž and says that Our wars thus have less to do with the confrontation of warriors than with the domestication of the refractory forces on the planet, those uncontrollable elements as the police would say, to which belong not only Islam in its entirety but wild ethnic groups, minority languages, etc. All that is singular and irreducible must be reduced and absorbed. This is the law of democracy and the New World Order (p. 86). 28 Arendt also describes the preemi nence that the police acquire befo re the military within any project, totalitarian or imperial, that conceives of itself as territorially boundless. Her in sight also illuminates modern colonialism and the global forms of police interve ntion that define curre nt forms of war. When there is a loss of outside, once a territory has already somehow been taken, it is the police„either literally or at least in their methods, te chniques, and procedures„the crucial fo rce to consolidate domination.

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231 Baudrillard, Agamben, Hardt, and Negri judge Gulf War I as the moment where police operations became a normal form to wage war. The proliferation of wars conducted as police operations and of police operations conducted as war, such as the global war on terrorŽ declared by the United States, confuse inside and outside, police and the military. This trend is accompanied by a revival of medieval doctrines of just warŽ (Holliday 116). We witness a return to the Augustinian imaginary. As in the time of Augustine, the authority of the state seems to weaken before supra and sub forms of power. The result, both in the time of Augustine and ours, is the proliferation of state and non-state mechanisms of policing. Needles to say, these forms of policing are overwhelmingly antidemocratic. Democratic policing seems not a possibility in the agenda of postmodern theorists. Conclusions The analysis of policing, the police, and police power presented in this chapter sought to offer a thicker understanding of what is at stake in democratizing policing. It has given visibility to police power and presented policing as a key activity of government. The review of different authors should have made clear why dominant representations of the police in studies of democratization, drawn from Lockean liberalism, are simplistic. Overall, this review sought to single out different layers or dimensions of police power, all of which need to be considered by any project of police reform. The exploration has brought to light virtuous and vicious aspects involved in policing. I would like to suggest that we take these somber prospects as a challenge. Which layers did we recognize in police power? First, we saw policing arising in an intimate association with the government. Protective practices and practices of order developing within the community define the scope of policing. The government of

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232 individuals and groups, the administration of sovereign power, and the biological reproduction of the community appear all associated with policing. In accounts such as Arendts, policing and governing may appear as synonymous. Policing materializes the order that results from a political definition. It is the authoritative moment of realization of order. But any definition of order is political, as it is any form of democratic project. Retrieving the Greek classics permits us to approach policing as a set of practices drawn in support of democratic politics. In Plato and Aristotles accounts, we see the Athenian demos taking care of the forms of order that they define democratically. In Athens, policing appears as just other dimension of citizenship. Whereas the political consists of contending about the definition of order, policing is the moment of imposing the order that results from the political. But policing deals with individuals as prepolitical beings. From the Ancient, classical, thinkers, we see practices of policing involved in the reproduction of the body politic, which it recreates in its biological and moral aspects. Policing orders individuals and the relations in which they engage on behalf of the community and the state. It produces the identities that engage with the political. Platos conservatism betrays his democratic attachments (Mononson, 2000). Both he and Aristotle describe practices of policing as supportive of the Athenian democratic institutions. These insights are valuable for re-thinking of democratic policing in our times. But also references by philosophes from the Enlightenment have also much to offer in the reorganization of policing as democratic. Rousseau and Kant propose us to interiorize policing as the basis to consolidate a democratic, emancipated society. We saw how both of them assign policing the task of educating the people and elevating morals and

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233 manners among the population in a society that they imagine free and democratic. They make clear that the ultimate goal of a free society should be to make the people love their laws and internalize them. Meanwhile, practices of policing would contribute toward leading us in the process. This chapter also identified a link of policing to economic activities and the material reproduction of society. Practices of policing interpellate the community in its prepolitical, biological, aspects. These activities amount to a pre-condition for the performance of the political. According to classic al Aristotelian distinctions, policing cannot be included within the political, for it oversees the pre-political tasks needed for the reproduction of life. Aristotle, and a whole tradition after him that includes Arendt, relegates the reproduction of life to the private sphere. But a focus on policing questions such strict distinctions. Policing is done on behalf of the community, and in this sense it is public. But it touches peoples bodies. Policing simultaneously draws and erases boundaries between public and private, body and soul, morally high and low, agora and oikos . These hybrid aspects of policing are addressed by postmodern theorists such as Foucault, Stalybrass and White, and Mitchell. Like them, other postmodern theorists push us to assess the politics of policing. They scrutinize the role of policing in the reproduction of exclusionary citizenship and exclusionary politics. The postmodern critique of police poses it as antagonistic with the democratization of power. As other references, for example Augustine, also suggest. The Augustinian discussion of both order and its maintenance serves to remind us of the most sinister aspects involved in police power, such as the possibility to manipulate the law and use torture and violence to maintain arbitrary forms of order. Arendts

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234 characterization of the police under totalitarianism enlarges our understanding of the vicious aspects involved in policing. This chapter has also shown other difficulties to delimit the scope of policing. Policing is somehow boundless. Insights by Benjamin, Gramsci, Foucault, and Neocleous suggest that policing undermines the division of powers that found liberal democracies. Police power involves executive, judicial, and quasi-legislative functions. With Bodin, Hobbes, Agamben, and Hardt and Negri, we saw that police power constitutes a sovereign exercise. I judge Bodins representation of those in charge of policing as sovereign magistrates accurate. But it is Agamben who draws the ultimate consequences from recognizing sovereignty to the police. Agamben shows that policing reopens a space of exception in which whether or not atrocities are committed depends not on law but on the civility and ethical sense of the police who temporarily act as sovereign,Ž says Agamben (1998, p. 174). I subscribe to this position. However, rather than concluding with Agamben that there seems hardly anything to do before the spread of the state of exception, I look for the narratives that lead those in charge of policing to act in a civilized way. We cannot eliminate the sovereign aspects involved in policing. But we can turn policing into a civilized practice. It is precisely the civility and ethical sense of the policeŽ that we must promote in a democracy. These attributes are transmitted through narratives that shape police practices. The next chapter assesses the democratizing potential of police narratives.

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235 CHAPTER 5 POLICE WORLDVIEWS AND STYLES OF POLICING I remember, many years ago, when the famous film SerpicoŽ was released ƒ although it is quite old, Id recommend you to see it. I dont know elsewhere, but here, it became full of Serpicos.Ž Here, in Argentina, within the Federal Police, it was packed with Serpicos.Ž And Commissioners did not know how to stop that wave, to say No, just a minute. Lets put things in perspective.Ž What is reality and what is fiction? When police officers see the film ƒ there is like a symbiosis (ARG7). Frank Serpico was a member of the New York Police Department since 1958. For more than a decade, his concerns and denunciations of widespread corruption within the NYPD went unheard within the force. Only in 1970 a journalist from the New York Times paid attention to Serpico. His report led Mayor John Lindsay to launch an independent investigation in charge of the Knapp Commission. Serpico testified and received many death threats. He was shot in his face in obscure circumstances that looked like a set up encounter with drug dealers and he lay bleeding. Nobody came to help him. Serpico survived and continued testifying. After leaving the NYPD in 1972, he moved to Europe. Serpicos story became known thanks to a book that Peter Mass devoted to his case. The story also inspired the film referred to by the interviewee, which seems to have encouraged the emergence of SerpicosŽ elsewhere. The bonds between real and fictional narratives are not always as straightforward as in this case, but cases like this make them apparent.1 1 Charles Sanders Peirce, the founder of modern semiotics, distinguishes references to real objects from fictional stories but at the same time exposes the se nse in which fiction becom es real. While refer to real, singular, objects through propositions, he says. when the Arabian romancer tells us that there was a lady named Scherherazade, he does not mean to be understood as speaking of the world of outward realities, and there is a great deal of fiction in what he is talking aboutŽ (5.152). Undoubtedly, Scherherazade and her

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236 Furthering democratization requires clearing out pockets of authoritarianism such as those embedded in policing. Yet democratization continues revealing new layers to us. Reforms are crucial to discourage and illegalize behavior and practices that undermine democratic life. But neither laws nor administrative rules suffice to transform authoritarian patterns, characters, and habits, which in the case of policing are enacted and perpetuated especially through the use of discretion. Despite efforts to reform the police, the bulk of authoritarian practices continues being reproduced in the discretionary interstices that laws and regulations allow. Whereas laws and rules can limit margins of discretion, they cannot change peoples form of using the amount of power that is left unregulated. The latter seems to be shaped instead by narratives and storytelling. Everywhere, police officers acknowledge that they judge and make decisions without thinking much about rules, say Shearing and Ericson (p. 487). Instead, police officers highlight the value of experience, which they illustrate with stories andƒaphorisms that lovingly describe ways of being, seeing and, most importantly, acting as a police officerŽ (p. 488). Stories, rules, and images embedded in stories seem to shape police officers forms of perception, judgment, and actions. Narratives seem to be a key factor influencing uses of police discretion. Whether institutional and legal reform occurs, the circulation of newŽ stories is key to democratize policing. This chapter privileges the voices of police officers, because stories are just a creation of the artist. Nevertheless, once he has imagined Scherherazade and made her young, beautiful, and endowed with a gift of spinning stories, it becomes a real fact that so he has imagined her, which fact he cannot destroy by pretending or thinking that he imagined her to be otherwise.Ž

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237 the democratization of policing calls for recuperating police narratives that have been silenced by existing police cultureŽ (Shearing, qtd. in Marks, p. 559). Choosing Serpico as a source of inspiration is very different from choosing Terminator or Rambo. The first one symbolizes the struggle against the corrupt practices of the police by resorting to democratic institutions and appealing to the public. The latter consecrate forms of making justice outside or even against the law by individuals who conceive of themselves as outsider justicieros,Ž who reject society, the political, and the very notion of citizenship. While the first alternative inscribes itself within the horizon of a democracy, the latter questions unjustice by undermining the ground for democracy. Thus, when the selfdefinition of a police officer includes a statement such as I do not like RambosŽ (UR1) we face a good start. Narrative analysis seems especially suited to approach aspects of police practices that are not regulated in a written manner, for stories seem to transmit ways of seeingŽ social reality. The present chapter assesses the value of tropes, metaphors, and stories to promoting more or less democratic uses of police power and discretion. It examines narratives of Argentinean, Uruguayan, Filipino, and British police officers and discusses their authoritarian or democratic character. It shows how stories and images shape the views of police officers, discusses similarities and differences across countries, and assesses alternative explanations. Drawing on the analysis of these interviews and on recent empirical findings by Terrill, Pauline, and Manning (2003), I argue that images and stories organize police practices, in special their uses of police discretion. The first section discusses the role of stories in the definition of individual character and the organization of political action. Section 2 examines the ways in which

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238 narratives influence moral and political judgment. It assesses the influence of fictional stories on the ways in which policing is practiced. The third section outlines the conditions that make narratives either authoritarian or democratic. It also advances a set of categories for the identification of authoritarian and democratic narratives. Section 4 constitutes the empirical core of my study. It characterizes and examines stories and images drawn from interviews with police officers from Argentina, Uruguay, the Philippines, and the United Kingdom. 2 The section judges stories and tropes according to their democratic properties. It starts by showing the pervasiveness of authoritarian narratives on policing. It then focuses on the stories that police officers tell on power and authority and identifies their main narrative elements and figures. I argue that these images organize their exercise of police discretion. The section ends by identifying successŽ stories that foster more democratic practices of policing. section five summarizes and discusses provisory findings. Finally, the conclusion assesses the possibilities of narratives for the democratization of policing. Stories and Characters, Character and Stories Who somebody is or was we can know only by knowing the story of which he is himself the hero„his biography, in other words,Ž says Hannah Arendt (1958, p. 186). Narratives articulate the human world. John Jervis defines narratives as a story we tell ourselves about ourselves; a story viewed as a reflexively organized property of its own unfolding in linear timeŽ (p. 342). Narratives define characters, both human and fictional, and intertwine them in a plot or story that entails programs of action. Individuals develop through stories not differently than characters in a novel, for the individual both tells, 2 The collection of interviews includ es one interview with an American police officer, parts of which I use in the analysis.

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239 listens to, and acts out the story of its life, and becomes a self in so doingŽ (Thiele, 2005, p.162). Differently from fictional accounts, however, real stories are not made at all,Ž says Arendt (1958, p. 186), but result from the contingent encounter of individual trajectories in a web or relationships that constitutes the story of the species, or history. We tell stories to make facts cohere. Narratives arise whenever our worlds seem to go out of kilterŽ and there is a need to restablish justice, order, or balance, says Wallace Martin (1986, p. 100). Out of the complexity and contingency of life affairs, narratives concatenate events, actions, and protagonists. Both temporal succession and causal connectionsŽ (p. 100) define narratives. Or, as Claude Bremond (1966, p. 102) puts it, narratives integrate a succession of events of human interest into the unity of the same action.Ž By introducing order, sequences, and time, plots allow cultures and individuals to make sense of our existence. Fairytales, myths, soap-operas, novels, life stories, are typical narrative expressions. Narratives give unity to all others types of texts and speech.3They mix verisimilar and mythical elements and make different aspects of reality visible, acting as frameworks through which we perceive and organize our world. Narrative elements ground discourse into a set of cultural coordinates. Whether long or abridged, represented by artists or conveyed as gossip, embodied into laws or scientific assumptions, explicit and thoroughly or merely suggested by some icon, stories present the unconscious of that culture in a condensed and concentrated form,Ž says William Connolly (p. xxix)(see also Patterson and Monroe, p. 328, Kohler Riessman, 1993, p. 5). The images conveyed 3 Even clearly non-narrative forms of expression such as a legal sentence or a treatise of logics or biology have their legitimacy grounded in some form of philosophical, social, or political narrative.

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240 through narratives root what Charles Taylor (2002, p. 106) refers as social imaginaries,Ž or the ways in which ordinary people "imagine" their social surroundings.Ž They ground those pre-theoretical frameworks that organize peoples perception in a particular time, which Raymond Williams (1977) calls structures of feelings.Ž All these characteristics make fiction and reality appear more as two extreme points on a continuum than as opposite. We become members of the human realm by entering narratives. Every individual starts his life by inserting himself into the human world through action and speechŽ says Arendt (1958, p. 184), where each individual life traces a story with beginning and end.Ž The conjunction of these innumerable individual stories with beginnings and ends constitute for Arendt the basis for history, the great story without beginning and end.Ž Accordingly, Jervis distinguishes between grand and humble, individual, narratives. The history of our families, societies, and selves ground the stories that enable us to construe what we are and where were headedŽ (Martin, p. 8). Our participation in stories and the possibility to give events of our lives a narrative form is what makes us humans and allows us to transcend death. After Aristotle, Arendt identifies the political world as a world made of action and characters opposed to the speechless realm of zo (1958, p. 97). As Anna Marie Smith (1998, p. 57) puts it, discourse provides the imaginary framework through which we interpret the symbolic order in which we are thrown.Ž PostLacanian political theorists (Elliot, 1992, p. 229ss) such as Laclau and Mouffe (1985) revisit psychoanalytic insights on the narrative construction of identity and add a component of struggle over meaning and identity.4 Laclau and Mouffe (p. 110) argue that 4 Lacanian psychoanalysis is one of main traditions that highlight the role of symbols and stories in the definition of our selves. In this perspective, the sy mbolic shapes us, including ou r virtual existence before

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241 tropes define the territory of constitution of the social and political identities, but they conceive as such a territory as contestable.5Characters are knitted through narratives. Besides the question of authorship identified by Arendt, the stories with which we make sense of our lives are not different from the stories with which we frame fictional characters. Martin (p. 119) likens fiction to gossip, for in both reality and fiction a char acter arises as a conjectural configurationŽ that we build up through pieces of information. Narrative theories expose characters as always ongoing constructions that, like individuals and the world themselves, Martin (p. 120) argues, exist for us only as a project, a becoming.Ž Bertold Brecht (qtd. in Link, 1992, p. 46) characterizes good stories as those that develop their characters from their actions, for this rationale accompanies the definition of human subjectivities. In his foundational analysis of folk tales, Vladimir Propp identified functions such as contracts, promises, acts of revenge, reward, or sacrifice. These functions articulate narrative sequences and condition the actors choices and behavior. The predominance of certain functions and ways of dealing with events defines a genre, which plays a part in a characters predictabilityŽ says Mieke Bal (1985, p. 84). Thus, we learn to forecast how plots will unfold because we empathetically understand the characters involvedŽ (Thiele, 2005, p.183). This form of prediction, which is embedded in all sorts of birth and beyond death, and determines our possibilities in life thus constituting each ones fate (Lacan: The function and field of speech and language in psychoanalysis.Ž Ecrits , p. 66;, Elliot, 1992, p. 181). Psychoanalysts approach our indivi dualities emerging as characters through ou r participation in both the family and the city novels (Viñar, 1992). 5 Differently from Lacan, Laclau and Mouffe address the process of (re)constitution of individual and social identity through hegemonic struggle. But they agree on the narrative origin of identity. In Laclau and Mouffes perspective, the (always) provisional result of th e struggle for meaning and identity defines subject positions,Ž and every subject position is a discursive positionŽ (p. 115). These subject positions, says Anna Marie Smith, emerge through differential relations with the other subject positions that are found in a given discursive formationŽ (p. 87).

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242 narrative, arises from the hermeneutics of social life. The ways in which characters act in relation to events, losses, and transformations, delineate both the plot and characters themselves further. The parallels between the fictional and real definition of character lead Bremond (p. 75) to argue that: To the elementary narrative types correspond the most general forms of human behavior. Task, contract, error, trap, etc., are universal categories (ƒ) Although it is a technique of literary analysis, the semiology of narration draws its very existence and its wealth from its roots in anthropology. Bremond elaborates on these parallels and sees the most general forms of human behavior correspond to the elementary narrative typesŽ (p. 120). After Bremond, other authors such as Bal stress the connection between literary and extra-literary factsŽ and judge the same frameworks being legitimately applicable to other connected series of human actions as well as to elements in film, theatre, news reports, and social and individual events in the worldŽ (p. 13). From a strict narrative perspective, then, the same rules of construction apply to both fictional and bodily characters (Bremond, 1966; Martin, 1986). Genres in turn structure social practices (i.e., work, the domestic, exchange in the marketplace, love, education) and convey relations of power (Warren, 1996; Lyotard, 1979). While practices already contain an interpretation of what it means to be a cultureŽ (Dreyfuss, 1991, p. 15), these different interpretations tend to legitimize practices selectively. Narratives are intertwined with practices. Action requires justification, a task that is performed by narratives. In turn, narratives ground, legitimize, and promote performative uses of speech such as marriage, or oaths, as it has been grasped by Austins or Searles speech acts.Ž Symbols conveyed through stories lie at the foundation of human life. In The Effectiveness of Symbols,Ž Claude Lévi-Strauss explores parallels between

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243 practices such as shamanism and psychoanalysis, for both expose the influence of myths and symbols in bodily functions.6 These parallels highlight the deep symbolic character of the human world. Originating from literary theory and with long lasting roots in Aristotles Poetics (Martin 81), narrative analysis has developed as a methodology in the social sciences (Abbot, Becker, Monroe). The belief in the existence of universal narrative structures and the search for unity within narratives differentiates structuralis ts and post-structuralists. Thus, the shift that Lyotard characterizes as postmodernism coincides with the fragmentation of narratives on history and being into a multiplicity of contingent, local, fragmentary, decentered stories as those that were especially collected by Foucault through his genealogical method of Nietzschean inspiration. Narrative analysis unveils truth as an effect internal to narratives themselves. Since truth is the correspondence between statements and facts, there cannot be truths outside the narratives that set them (Lyotard). In this respect, the exploration of narratives leads us behind the sceneŽ and allows us to understand the conditions of production of truth in different contexts. Truth in turn organizes a series of courses of action. This perspective then focuses on how events, dilemmas, alternatives, and choices are arranged and made meaningful by different individuals against a background that they draw with the resources allowed by their culture. 6 The examination of a magico-religiousŽ song to facilitate difficult childbirthŽ used among the Cuna peoples in Panama serves Lévi-Strauss to show the role of myths and symbols in re-establishing harmony in individual and group life. By telling stories populated by both real and imaginary beings such as monsters, the shaman contributes to articulate bodily illness and pain into a story that integrates them within a whole where everything is meaningfulŽ (p. 197). Lévi-Strauss notices that Once the sick woman understandsƒ she does more than resign herself; she gets well.Ž (p. 197)

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244 Concepts, methods, and units of analysis vary. In literature, anthropology, and sociology, narrative analysis distinguishes stories from how they are plotted in different versions and focuses on disruptions and patterns of continuities. Seeking to ease the more mechanical steps of the process, scholars such as Franzosi and Carley have developed software that allows for the analysis of multiple texts and the confection of cognitive maps. The present study adopts an eclectic stand before all these traditions and approaches them as possibilities to enlarge the understanding of the narratives that ground practices of policing. Narratives as Moral and Political Programs Counsel woven into the fabric of real life is wisdomŽ This is how Walter Benjamin (1969, p.86-7) presents the morals embedded in the art of storytelling, to which he devotes an essay. Oral stories arise from individual and shared experience, Benjamin notices, and the storyteller in turn makes it the experience of those who are listening to his taleŽ (p. 87). Stories tend to convey something usefulŽ (p. 86) in the form of moral, advice, proverbs or maxims. In every case, says Benjamin, the storyteller is a man who has counsel for his readers.Ž Narratives recreate experience. They transmit experience in a mediated formŽ (Thiele 2005, p.15) that we access through listening to, reading about, and reflecting upon stories.Ž But also, as Benjamin suggests, listening to stories constitutes itself a firsthand form of experience. Noticeably, the experience recreated through narratives has a core moral component, which seems related to the fact that, as Thiele puts it, narrative makes you feelŽ (p. 182). Thiele describes both direct and mediated forms of experience that arise from storytelling as forms of implicit cognition and affect-based learningŽ (p. 15). It is through the stories that we hear since we are young that our perception becomes

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245 attuned to the world in a culturally, historically, class, and gendered distinctive fashion. Narratives thus ground both reason and moral judgment. Before reason can work properly, the public must experience some kind of moral transformation; it must be made to see the truth,Ž says Kimberly Smith (1999, p.218). The truth in question is the injustice of slavery in the United States. Smith studies the role of storytelling in abolitionism. The examination of multiple abolitionist accounts point to the slaveholders moral defectŽ and hardened hearts.Ž Since abolitionists understood that slavery infects ones entire moral nature in such a way that none of ones faculties can work properlyŽ (1999, p.210), they resorted to slave stories to create the proper moral sentimentsŽ (p. 219) in the audience as a first step toward moral reform. Smith agrees with Nussbaum that certain fundamental moral truths can be stated only in the form of the literary narrative.Ž In this perspective, the moral reformŽ of a certain group of people results from a narrative process and appears as a necessary step before reason and rational arguments could have any effectŽ (Smith 1998, n pag).7 She also follows Nussbaums insight that sympathy, or the possibility of assuming the others perspective, is both a necessary component of moral judgment and the the only way to grasp certain morally relevant truths.Ž The examination of the role of storytelling in 7 Abolitionists depicted slaveholders as not so much irrational as indifferent or insensible,Ž as being disturbingly out of touch with their moral impulsesŽ (1998: n pag). To abolitionists, the moral blindness of the supporters of slavery indicated their moral corruption and, as therefore th eir unreliable moral reasoning.Ž Supporters of slavery had th eir possibilities of sympathy for thos e subjected to slavery blocked by narratives naturalizing subjectio n. This is why a supposedly caring mother may remain indifferent before the cries and screams of slave children being separated of their own parents to be taken to the market. Furthermore, the role of storytelling in abolitionism leads Smith to raise theoretical concerns on the rationalistic emphasis of current democratic theory. Smith questions the excessive ration alism of what she calls the Enlightenment model of public debateŽ (1999:233). In her words, contemporary democratic theory is dominated by propon ents of rational deliberation , to the point that democracy and reasoned public debate are almost synonymousŽ (p. 240). Smith sees this m odel currently represented by the work of Jürgen Habermas (pp. 121-3).

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246 abolitionism serves Smith to highlight the multiple sources and experiences that inform democratic life, in especial the pervasive role of political storytelling. Stories, she says, can give us access to alternative perspectives and provide moral exemplars, influencing our moral reasoning by addressing the emotive, noncognitive bases of moral judgmentŽ (1998, n pag). This perspective highlights the limits of reason, for it only develops against a background of perceptual and moral forms of sensibility that we access (o not) through stories. A child deprived of stories is deprived, as well, of certain ways of viewing other people. For the insides of people, like the insides of stars, are not open to view,Ž argues Nussbaum (1997, p. 89). She proposes to use literature to cultivate in ourselves a capacity for sympathetic imaginationŽ that she judges essential to citizenshipŽ (1997, p.85, 1998, pp. 278-9). The author thinks that that the literary imagination should allow us to represent people not only abstractly as world citizensŽ but also as close to ourselves. This insight, she argues, needs to be developed in a specifically democratic way, as an essential part of thinking and judging well in a pluralistic democratic society that is part of an even more complex worldŽ (1997, pp. 95-6). Nussbaum presents a compelling argument about the potential of literature to foster simultaneously a cosmopolitan and situated perspective that promotes empathy. Nussbaum extends her claim to various fields, yet education and judicial practices appear for her as privileged activities where literature should be used to expand peoples imagination. 8 8 It is the political promise of literature th at it can transport us, while remai ning ourselves, into the life of another, revealing similarities but also profound differences be tween the life and thought of that other and myself and making them comprehensible, or at least more nearly comprehensibleŽ (Nussbaum, 1997, p. 111). Thomas Moravetz summarizes Nussbaums argument that judicial decisions informed by "the literary imagination" are likely to be sounder and wiser than judgments reached by other meansŽ and that legal education and the perspectives of lawyers should similarly be tempered by literary study.Ž

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247 Still, since stories transmit moral forms of perception, they may also serve to communicate dogmatic principles in the form of frozen, reified judgments.9 This does not seem, however, a relevant feature of narratives according to the literature that I am commenting in this section, which highlights mostly the experiential, critical, and prudentia l dimensions of storytelling. But the study of the informal socialization of police officers in their profession suggests that the mythological thinking mythological making or poetic logic (Shearing and Ericson, p. 483) conveyed by stories may also lie behind the reproduction of authoritarian cultural patterns. If extreme cases are illuminating, Arendts concept of banality of evil (1964), inspired in Adolf Eichmann, the Nazi officer, exposes the darkest consequences of thoughtlessness. An extremely obedient bureaucratic officer lacking self-reflection and judgment, Arendt notices that Eichmann resorted to a clich-ridden language for response, and was helpless in situations for which such routine procedures did not exist. The case of Eichmann serves Arendt to examine the role of thoughtlessness in our lives: Clichs, stock phrases, adherence to conventional, standardized codes of expression and conduct have the socially recognized function of protecting us against reality, that is, against the claim on our thinking attention that all events and facts make by virtue of their existence. If we were responsive to this claim all the time, we would soon be exhausted; Eichmann differed from the rest of us only in that he clearly knew of no such claim at all. Episodes of harassment, abuse, and violence by the police seem mostly to respond to this same thoughtlessness identified by Arendt, a feature that expands through bureaucratic 9 In this form, stories serve what Connolly denominates the Augustin ian imperative, or the belief that ones own moral perspective represents an i ntrinsic moral order susceptible to authoritative representation (p. xxvii).

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248 forms of organization such as the state. Max Weber identified mechanistic and desensitizing effects of bureaucratic organizations over individuals. In a minute scale and dispersed throughout the administrative apparatus of the state, police abuse and violence seems to follow analogous patterns. Thoughtlessness does not have anything to do with lack of intelligence. The more non-thinkingŽ prevails in a group of people, the more rigidly individuals attach themselves to rules in such a way that it is the possession of rules,Ž more than their content, what matters to them. The generalized lack of thought is favored by the a-scholia, of human affairs [which] demands provisional judgments, the reliance on custom and habit, that is, on prejudicesŽ (Arendt, 1978, p. 71). Although thinking has no political sign but is equally dangerous to all creedsŽ (1978, 176), dogma and thoughtlessness are profoundly anti-democratic and can become major sources of evil. But Smith discusses the narrative process of learning to deny sympathy and justice to others by discursively depriving them of humanity. She wonders, perhaps it is through sympathy that we come to recognize one another as moral beings. Maybe the problem does originate in the heart.Ž As if echoing this concern, Kristen Monroe retrieves the narratives of those who are capable of altruism. She interviews many individuals who incomprehensibly risked their lives to save others, sometimes even strangers, in conditions as extreme as those imposed by Nazism. Monroe finds that perceptions of a shared humanityŽ define the common denominator of altruistic action (p. 197). This perception appears to be key, as it defines the reach and scope of our moral principles. If tropes of a shared humanity lie behind altruism, representations that instead limit the

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249 human have served to justified slavery, exclusion, and mass murder for centuries.10 In the antipodes of those whose hardened hearts allow them to be insensitive toward slavery and suffering, the possibilities for Monroes interviewees were also narratively constructed. From fairytales to personal conversations to the media, narratives nurture our perception, judgment, decisions, and actions. They stand out as main transmitters of practical knowledge (Shearing and Ericson, p. 497). They provide individuals with a range of possibilities to identify ourselves as with characters in a plot, to ground worldviews from which different paths of action arise and to justify our choices morally. Both at the individual and the collective level stories attempt to justify the meaning and moral consistency of past choices (Petterson and Monroe, p. 316). Elaborating on Aristotles understanding of judgment, Abizadeh argues that emotions determine our judgment, decisions, and action. Our emotions can be educated along different ethical standards, he says, and stories operate as the main tools for such education. Emotions are intersubjectively communicable, criticizable, defensible, and so on--in part thanks to the ethos„and pathos„dimensions of language.Ž But that emotions are not reducible to formal logic does not foreclose the possibility for their rational examination and debate. Narratives lie at the foundation of our moral order. The moral components of narratives become a part of our personal and collective identities. The stories we are told about ourselves intertwine nationhood, family, and personal features, to the point that it is 10 As it was discussed in chapter 4, Agamben notices the Aristotelian distincti on between bios and zo as inspiring exclusionary political narrativ es in the Western tradition, which he suggests lie behind the possibility of exterminating millions of people as lice,Ž as he refers Hitler said in account of the Jews (1998:114).

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250 almost impossible for us to think of who we are without these references. Benedict Andersons comparative research on nationa lism illuminates how the stories of nationhood turn the contingency of living in a certain land into fate. The more or less contingent adoption of a language, a calendar, the organization of schooling, the emergence of novels, newspapers, the consecration of heroes and the development of cliché forms of interpellating subjects as belonging to a certain nation display narrative mechanisms through which we come to think of ourselves as naturally belonging to a nation (pp. 163ss.). Narratives on death play a central role in the formation of ghostly national imaginingsŽ (p. 7), in which past bloodsheds effectively legitimize future ones. Anderson poses our difficulties to understand the puzzle by which people come to be willing to die for ones own country, which usually one does not chooseŽ (p. 144). Thus, the remembrance of exemplary suicides, poignant martyrdoms, assassinations, executions, wars, and holocaustsŽ and other tragic deaths are articulated as our ownŽ by national narratives (p. 206). Besides hegemonic arrangements, similar material conditions favor the development of common cultural patterns, values, and rules. From the risk-averseŽ peasants in 1930s Southeast Asia studied by James Scott (1976) to street-level bureaucratsŽ examined by Michael Lipsky (1980), the social microcosmŽ (Bourdieu, 1999) where we live frames our perceptions. Rancière highlights that politics is first and foremost an intervention upon the visible and the sayable.Ž Narratives entail political dimensions, starting with what they choose to make visible. They populate the public sphere with moral heroes and villainsŽ

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251 (Smith, 1998) that support representations of good and evil and turn the relations of power meaningful to us. We all tell stories, we do this as individuals and we do it as collective units, as nations or groupsŽ (Patterson and Monroe, p. 315). All these stories are traversed by a search for coherence. But they also present heterogeneities and contradictions, as well as transits and connections between them. The same occurs with personal narratives, in which our conscious effort for unification does not always succeed in smoothing and fusing narrative fragments. Narratives make sense of the origins and ultimate meaning of life, which are inexplicable; thus, at the origin lays a myth. With psychoanalytic reminiscences, Anderson argues that major changes and transformations taking place in the life of both individuals and societies„which literary theorists would call events--are accompanied with (traumatic) amnesias, from which in specific historical circumstances, spring narrativesŽ (p. 204). Institutions and states constantly promote and rework rhetorical unification among their members. Theo Farrell (1998, p. 413) discusses the role of culture and imitation in the diffusion of similar military organizations and military practiceŽ worldwide. This is what Gramsci called hegemony and Anderson accounts for with his concept of imagined communities.Ž Sarfatti Larson and Sigal (2001, p. 290) assess the significance of rhetorical forms and clichésŽ that people use in their daily life, unaware of their political connotations. These tropes organize master framesŽ and articulate a political common senseŽ that allow individuals to make sense of their world (p. 291). How do these narrative elements embedded in peoples lives create power? Sarfatti Larson and Sigal argue that they

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252 Represent a latent source of power for somebody other than their holder. For the political entrepreneur who is capable of addressing them and activating them, who, in creating a constituency, makes them into a resource for collective action, the cultural structures of political thought are a medium in which and through which power can be constituted.Ž (p. 292). Stories constitute the tool and arena of political struggle. Stories organize the exercise of power and different stories make for hierarchical, authoritarian, or democratic arrangements of power. The ultimate challenge to strengthen democratization is to find out stories that promote democratic values and practices. This seems to require some form of conversion of the millions whose hearts, thinking, and judgment are numbed by narratives that legitimize exclusion, authoritarianism, intolerance, and violence. Smith resorts to Protestant narratives of conversion in the United States as a model to examine stories that may soften hardened heartsŽ and thus allow for the sympathy and intuition that good moral judgment requires. What is needed is a good storyteller,Ž whose tales can transform the listener's moral vision through the drama and power of his speech, by inducing the listener to enter into and accept his moral perspective.Ž Smith argues that this was what slave narratives did in 19th centurys U.S. until they gained an audience large enough to revert relationships of force. Taking into account the scope of slavery and the extended support for it, the challenge for abolitionists was not so much trying to exclude the defenders of slaveholders, as trying to convert them.Ž A hardened heart makes one authoritarian. Democracy requires the cultivation of sympathy, or the possibility of assuming the others perspective. Otherwise, who is going to engage in a political confrontation in defense of the weak? Who is going to renounce privileges for the sake of justice and equality? Warren (1996, p. 254) suggests that the development of the ethical skills required by democracy can only be advanced through democratic procedures. Only democratic processes can transform hardened oppositions

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253 into other kinds of identities, he says. As abolitionists, all democrats need to develop a politics of storytelling (Smith, 1998, n1) to recuperate numb hearts. Figurative Language as Transmitter of Stories Metaphors have consequences (Steinert, 2003, p. 265). Yet, there is no need to recount an entire story to retrieve its imagery. Tropes and icons reproduce the effects and morals of the story without having to retell it.11 As Shearing and Ericson put it, tropes create a world by permitting it to be seen and experienced in new ways which, once brought to life persist. They act as cognitive instruments for perceiving connections that once perceived, are then truly present as features of this world (p. 494).They rely on a shared net of narratives that allows others participating in the same cultural coordinates to decode them. Independently of what we say, we are always also telling, referring to, or evoking a story through tropes such as metaphors or metonymies. Expressions such as dangerous classes, war on crime, war on terror, dirty war, just to mention a few, automatically trigger a series of associations, connotations, alliances, and enmities in countries such as England, the United States or Argentina. 11 A metonymy is a figure of speech that refers to an object as a form of evoking the whole to which the object belongs. For example, a bowler hat, a cane, and little moustaches evoke Charles Chaplin, little round glasses and a trace of long hair are frequently used to represent John Lennon, similar glasses and a pipe evoke Sigmund Freud. Jakobson extensively discusses the properties of metaphors and metonymies. He sees these two figures as main principles that organize human communication.

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254 Narratives that deny the need for reflection, draw on the metaphor of war,12construct an exclusive notion of citizenship,13 present their definition of values as absolute and universal, articulate hierarchical tropes (i.e., a priest, a father) and reify or elicit the adversary, legitimize authoritarian prac tices. On the contrary, the trope of citizenship used in reference to both the people and police officers themselves, the value given to reflexive processes, acknowledgment of ones own power, and the use of figures that promote accountability, are key component of a democratic ethos. Most tropes are ambiguous, however, and their symbolic and practical valences depend on their immediate context. Let us examine a few examples. What kind of power relationships do narratives and rhetorical figures promote? Social Dimensions of Police Narratives and Tropes The police have been a powerful trope of cultural storytellingŽ (Wilson, 2000, p. 6) since their inception. The police novel with its variants, movies and TV series, hybrid genres such as Cops , or common sense perceptions, frame our images of policing. Bayley (1985) recognizes that popular writers of fiction have shown a much more acute sense of 12 The metaphor of war is not univocal, though. Theorists such as Antonio Gramsci and Michel Foucault have used war to represent the political. Gramscis war of attritionŽ and Foucaults insights on politics as the continuation of war are among the most productive metaphors in terms of thinking of the political. However, when it comes to describing our immediate reali ty, things may look diffe rent. For example in Argentina, the rejection of the metaphor of dirty warŽ used by the military to justify the use of kidnappings, torture, concentration camps, and disappearancesŽ has been a core claim of most democratic and Human Rights activists. Between 1976 and 1983 there was no warŽ in the country, but an authoritarian state carrying out state terror policies. The use of the metaphor of war to describe our immediate reality seems to leg itimize the use of procedures of war to treat citizens. 13 Distinguishing criminals from citizens is part of a wider st rategy that excludes certain groups from citizenship, for on ce this is achieved the exercise of coercive authority can be conducted almost without restraintŽ (Waddington 300).

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255 the importance and salience of the police in life." In turn, Foucault, Wilson, or Link suggests that the police novel also frames our representations of the social and political worlds. Parallels and crossings between fiction and reality nurture images of the police. The work of Foucault, Stallybrass, and White unveil the role of the police and the police novel in moralizing the working class according to bourgeois patterns since the 19th century. Foucault (1980, p. 41) explains the origins of the police novel in relation to the campaigns of moralization of industrial workers in 19th century France. It was absolutely necessary to constitute the populace as a moral subject and to break its commerce with criminality, and hence to segregate the delinquents and to show them to be dangerous not only for the rich but for the poor as well, viceridden instigators of the gravest social perils. Hence also the birth of detective literature and the importance of the faits divers, the horrific newspaper crime stories. The reader may object to this argument by saying that it confuses fiction and reality. However, main organizers of the modern police were also novelists and several former police officers have given advice to Hollywood script writers. Policing and police fiction show a long tradition of crossover. Vidocq, the French criminal turned into the organizer of the modern police in France, became popular through his memoirs (Stead, 1953,1977, p.109). Henry Fielding, who was mentioned in chapter 2 as one of the introducers of the professional police in late 18th century London, wrote Amelia, a novel where he attacked the trading justices and the existing prison systemŽ (Stead, 1977, p.36). Allan Pinkerton, the founder of modern private security in the United States, wrote 16 detective books between 1874 and 1884 (Stead, 1977, p. 109). He authored those books with the explicit purpose to legitimizing his agency and the detective profession.Ž Stead refers that Pinkertons first book The Expressman and the Detective, sold 15,000 copies in the first two months. Through his popular novels, Pinkerton sought to legitimize

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256 the agencys past historyŽ as well as activities which bordered on the devious by convincing the public that a real criminal threat existedŽ (Stead 110). The popularity of his books gained him the label of Chicagos VidocqŽ (p. 109). Detective novels first appeared with Edgar Allan Poe in the 1840s. Although detectives continued populating peoples imaginaries, the police soon disputed his role. As Fredric Jameson (qtd. in Link 90) characterizes it, the great detectives of the continent (Lecoq, Maigret) are in general police officers.Ž Instead, in England and the United States the private detective, from Holmes to Marlowe, has replaced the governments officerŽ (p. 90). The parallels between the British and the American police novel appear as relevant as their differences, though. In a brilliant essay written in 1944, Raffles and Miss Blandish,Ž George Orwell traces the development of police stories in the United Kingdom and the United States. Orwell chooses the British E. W. Hornungs Raffles series ( circa 1900) and the American James Hadley Chases No Orchids for Miss Blandish (1939) as prisms to discuss changes in moral atmosphereŽ and peoples political sensibility. Orwell defines popular literature, mostly American, as realist, and characterizes realism as the doctrine that might is right.Ž He suggests parallels and crossings between this perspective and author itarianism, for in his view realistŽ narratives advance an acritical celebration of power, violence, and fascism. He subscribes to the opinion that Chases Miss Blandish It's pure Fascism,Ž and recognizes realism rising popularity. Despite its non explicitly political or social thematic, this police novel displays a certain sensibility that Orwell judges a daydream appropriate to a totalitarian age.Ž As he puts it, The interconnexion between sadism, masochism, success-worship, power-worship, nationalism, and totalitarianism is a huge subject whose edges have barely been

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257 scratched, and even to mention it is considered somewhat indelicateŽ (ƒ)All of them are worshipping power and successful cruelty. It is important to notice that the cult of power tends to be mixed up with a love of cruelty and wickedness for their own sakes. Orwells discussion is especially relevant for my study for it captures the links between fictional narratives and political positions. Even though this connection is not straightforward, there seems to be a relation between genres, forms of fiction, and political worldviews (Williams, 1977). In turn, these worldviews shape practices. With a focus on Argentina, Andrés Avellaneda (1983, p. 10) also highlights the political connotations of literature, which he judges a privileged territory where the production of cultural and social meaning strips its essential mechanisms.Ž The political connotations of a literary piece are not self-evident, though. It is only by relating a work of fiction to other texts, both fictional and non-fictional, that the political acquires visibility. It arises at the intersection of the production of meaning realized in the literary series with other realized in the social seriesŽ (p. 39). For example the repetition of signs, says Avellaneda (i.e., tropes of invasionŽ), permits the analyst to identify the common cultural codeŽ shared by writers and readers. Link characterizes the police novel as a genre that, from its beginning, overflows literary boundariesŽ (p. 10). For the raw materials that make the genre possible precede police literature.Ž Talking about the police genre, says Link, involves more than literature. It involves Movies and TV series, police chronicles, TV news, and cartoons; police fiction traverses all of these genres. But it implies also talking about the State and its relationship to Crime, about truth and its regimes of appearance, about politics and its relationship to moral, about the Law and its regimes of coercion (p. 11).

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258 Link examines the form in which police fiction spills over our perceptions of reality. It is just a fiction.Ž However, it is the kind of fiction that imposes the thresholds of truth over usŽ (p. 14). In the book Cop Knowledge , Christopher Wilson assesses the role of police power in cultural storytellingŽ (p. 6). His work, focused on 20th century American literature, shows how decisively police worldviews contribute to frame peoples common sense. They do so by being the first ones in offering raw versions about the causes of criminality and conflict in society. But they also influence our perceptions about democracy. In the United States, Wilson sees police power as a street-level venue for a broader cultural reshaping of political thought about modern democratic societyŽ (p. 15). Throughout the 20th century, Wilson says, American police forces have used their symbolic power to legitimize liberal realism,Ž or to depoliticize peoples understanding of social issues by dissecting them into technical problems (p. 15). To put it differently, the bulk of the police in the United States use democratic references with undemocratic purposes. For the technocratic view that invokes complexity to disqualify and exclude the citizenry from the discussion of policies is one of the disguises through which authoritarianism reenters democratic polities these days. Both media depiction of real episodes of police intervention and different genres of the police novel and the film noir have contributed to diffuse these views throughout society. Among the narratives on policing, those told in the United States are very important because they are a source of narrative style that influences the entire world, for example through training, literature, and the media. While the American narrative is

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259 complex, exhibiting both Serpicos with Dirty Harrys and Ramboes, it is the last two images that have predominated in recent decades. 14Martin Edwin Andersen (2002) offers a synthesis of the evolution of the police novel in Argentina. He follows Donald Yates in describing an explosion of popular interest in the genreŽ during the 1930s, when magazines such as Caras y Caretas and Billiken published police stories (p. 132). Many foreign stories were translated into Spanish. Yates credits Lostal Sauli as the author of the first newspaper serial police novel. In the 1940s, Jorge Luis Borges and Adolfo Bioy Casares translated and edited classical police novels and wrote police stories of their own. Their joined work turned the police genre from a minor to a respectable type of literature (Ferro, p. 127). Avellaneda interprets the political connotations of the boom of detective stories that followed as an expression of the middle classes before the emergence of Peronism. He suggests that the kind of detective stories edited and written by Borges and Bioy Casares expressed a project of a Literature based upon pure intelligence, the exercise of an omnipotent thinking and the unstoppable and unbeatable logic of the characters (detectives) who watch over a type of order from the threat posed to it by the chaotic (crime, enigma) (Avellaneda, 1983, p. 44). In 1954, Rodolfo Walsh published the first anthology of police tales written by Argentinean authors (Ferro, p. 128). Andersen follows Yates in judging this moment as the start of a second, commercial,Ž period of the police fiction in Argentina, which also coincides with a shift from the influence of the British to American police novel (Viñas, p. 219, Andersen, p. 160). Critics have noticed continuities of Borgean themes in Walshs 14 The next sections will illustrate that the US narrativ e contrast with the police narratives found in Britain and Uruguay.

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260 writings (Mayer, p. 88). Despite this influence, Walshs work became politicized in a way that Borges never did, and the police genre served as the vehicle of such politicization. Walsh was both a fiction writer and a journalist. His coverage of illegal executions of (Peronist) members of the political opposition by the anti-peronist military regime after 1955 made his work evolve from the police genre to political literature. Operación Masacre and El Caso Satanowsky epitomize the metamorphosis of a genre based upon the discovery that the state, which should provide individuals with peace and justice, is in fact the murderer. Walshs revelation that Satanowskys is an official crimeŽ alters the genre substantially. In Walshs work, David Viñas notices, the police genre, conceived as a collection of stratagems„moves from the lucid intellectual riddle to the commentary of repressionŽ (p. 218). From then on, the writer becomes an activist. 15The case of Walsh suggests that the spread of the dark police novel in Argentina after the 1950s constitutes more than the commercial phenomenon referred by Andersen. The translation of Dashiel Hammet or Raymond Chandler and the local development of that genre in the country coincided with the transformation of the Argentinean state in a terrorist state and of their police in an occupation forceŽ that kidnapped, tortured, and murdered the people. Chandlers characterization of entering the police station as passing clear out of this world into a place beyond the lawŽ (Jameson, 1970, p. 630) was and still is an experience familiar to thousands of Argentineans. Andersen quotes Walshs description of police versions of killings as a half dozen of basic jokes that allow for infinite variationsŽ (p. 190). The police with whom Walsh 15 Right alter the publication of his open setter to the military Junta in 1977, Rodolfo Walsh was disappearedŽ by a paramilitary group.

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261 was familiar, those of the Buenos Aires police, recurrently resorted to the same story: suspects open fire when the police approached them for identification; this was the beginning of a shooting that left the criminals dead, besides whom guns were found.Ž We know this basic story, for it continues being the one that police officers use to hide what constitute in fact extra-judicial executions. But let us see how stories inform police practices. Police Stories and Police Practices How do the beliefs, representations, and values conveyed through stories affect police behavior and uses of discretion? Terrill, Pauline, and Manning (2003, p. 1009) tested empirically for the first time the hypothesis that differences in coercion are a result of variation in cultural alignments.Ž The researchers surveyed traditional topics of police culture (i.e., suspicion toward citizens and government officers, contempt for the law, isolation, loyalty to the group), and orientation towards the use of force among 638 police officers from Indianapolis, IN and St. Petersburg, FL. Simultaneously, different researchers accompanied police officers to their beats and observed 3,223 citizen-police encounters. Then, the results from surveys and observations were correlated for each individual police officer. The researchers found significant statistical correlations between adherence to the traditional view of police cultureŽ and coercive actions over suspectsŽ (p. 1029). However, their data questions the existence of a universally shared culture,Ž for they also found significant differences between police officers. Terrill, Pauline, and Manning subjected their results to techniques of cluster analysis, which led them to identify seven groups. A model of traditional police culture (i.e., authoritarianism, machismo,Ž racism, likelihood to use violence) served the authors to organize three main groups. They

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262 consisted of those who strongly support traditional views of police culture (pro-culture), those who were negatively oriented (con-group), and those falling somewhere in the middle (mid-range).Ž How did these three groups relate to the use of violence? As expected, officers in the pro-culture group used force more frequently than those in both the midand con-culture groups. Overall, pro-culture officers relied on force in 61.3% of the observed police-suspect encounters, compared with 56.1% of mid-culture officers and 50.4% of con-culture officers. This pattern held for each type of force. The most pronounced difference was found within the verbal force category where pro-culture officers used force in 39.0% of the encounters, compared with 35.6% and 33.1% of the encounters involving midand con-culture officers, respectively (p. 1020). Such a strong positive correlation between patterns of police culture and the use of coercion by the police both confirm and question previous insight on police culture. On the one hand, they expose how ideas shape practices and encourage or deter the use of violence. On the other hand, they question homogenizing representations on cop culture.Ž Most cultureŽ approaches to the police overlook the space for contestation of hegemonic values and mores. Findings by Terrill, Pauline and Manning suggest instead that far from the broad-based, almost caricatures of police cultureŽ consecrated in the literature, complex combinations of beliefs and behavioral patterns develop among police officers. These findings suggest that reports of a universally shared police culture might have been overstated by police scholars.Ž Despite the difficulties of replicating their study due to the many institutional obstacles that most researchers face when approaching the police, theirs is a needed line of research that exposes the material, deadly, consequences, of the values embedded in narratives. The authors also suggest that people who share some core values may act differently.

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263 It is my contention that these differences arise from narratives. Narratives and the dynamics of their struggle for hegemony, can account for local, regional, and international differences. Looking for narrative patterns and stories offers a richer sense of the ways in which ideas and values circulate throughout society, the kinds of hegemonic struggles existent in a society, and the relations between local, national, and transnational narrative matrixes. Accepting that people need stories to define their own identities and reduce cognitive dissonance, the concept of narrative offers a better understanding of how subcultures become entrenched and how they may be transformed. Democratic Narratives (and Tropes)? Can we identify the stories told by police officers as authoritarian or democratic? What makes a story, or a way of telling a story, democratic? As chapter 1 addressed, democracy is a multi-faceted and highly contested concept. So is the notion of democratic policing. Several authors and sources serve here to lay a basic classification of narratives, with each perspective having multiple subcomponents to it. chapter 1 briefly refers to the literature identifying principles to adjust policing to democratic standards (Jones, Newburn, and Smith, Marenin, Das, Neild, Can). From the field of studies of public administration, authors such as Fox, Miller, and Hansen also discuss what makes discourse, narratives, and images conducive to strengthening democratic practices. Police institutions are in general closed to the public and police officers reluctant to give interviews to outsiders.Ž Yet opaqueness to the public seems to recede as democracy ages and consolidates. In retrospect, this British police officer comments that in the 1960s I dont think an interview like this would have ever taken place,Ž because we were not as transparent as we are nowŽ (UK20). Substantial differences in the

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264 availability and accessibility of the police in Argentina and Uruguay speak of the differential spread of democratic practices among their police forces. Rancire (2000, p. 15) characterizes the real literature of democracy as one that is based on heterogeneous voices. As Bakhtin, Rancire highlights the presence of multiple voices as a narrative trace of the demos. Theorists such as Rancire, Laclau, Mouffe, Dahl, Taylor, and Warren provide insight for the characterization of narratives as democratic. So do empirical, interpretive works such as Monroes on altruism or Leslie Andersons on authoritarian patterns of culture in Argentina. The literature coincides in characterizing as democratic practices that are based upon inter-subjective recognition, self-reflection, the presence of heterogeneous identities and voices. Elaborating on both the analysis of interviews with police officers and the literature, I propose the following categories to classify police narratives. Table 5-1 draws on theoretical and pragmatic aspects of democracy. First, it identifies themes and contents that make for the authoritarian or democratic character of a narrative (i.e., horizontal accountability). Second, it highlights the effects of logical forms on the transmission of narratives in eithe r an authoritarian or a democratic manner (i.e., open-ended stories that force the listener to think, judge, and complete the story in an autonomous manner vs. memorization of exemplary stories). Next, it differentiates between modalities of communication and relations between speaker and addressee (i.e., intersubjective recognition vs. establishing relations of mere obedience and subordination). Table 5-1. Political nature of narratives across themes Authoritarian Democratic Natur e of Narra tivesThoughtlessness Non-Accounted for Overlaps and Reflexive responses (Warren 249)

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265 Table 5-1. Continued Contradictions Dismissal of the less powerful members of society Citizenship/Recognition of others Subordination Obedience Autonomy Accountability to the superiors Recognizes the need for citizen/horizontal Accountability Redress (removal of incompetents/elections) Dismissal of the law Respect for the law Expected Use of Violence as a Tool of Conflict Resolution (Anderson, L 103) Rejection to Violence. Conflicts Need to Be Solved through Negotiation Hierarchical View of Society Equity/(Universal) Delivery of service (Jones et al. )/ Responsiveness (Jones et al. ) Rejects participation or assimilates participants to informers Legitimizes Participation in the design and implementation of police policy Secretiveness Information/Openness Patronizing Distribution of power Denial of Polysemy Memorization Open-Ended Stories Dilemmas Puzzles Paradoxes Morally Reifying focus (good vs. evil/ the good part of the population against the bad ones) Punishment Focus on preventing and solving conflicts I argued earlier that tropes, or figures of speech such as metaphors or metonymies, actualize entire narratives.16 How do they influence police narratives? Tropes invite police officers to identify themselves alternatively as citizens, justicieros, as public servers, as altruistic individuals committed to service, as an embodiment of Christian and family values under threat, and so on and so forth. These interpellations shape individual 16 The tripartite Peircean distinction between index, icon, and symbol, permits us to recognize what a crucifix or an American flag evoke for different publics. Both indexes and icons stand for elided stories, which they metonymically retrieve. And these images are the terrain of abductions that set the ground for thinking and judging. Chapter 5 examines how this process works and inf orms moral judgment.

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266 character in a way that is not very different of how fictional characters are defined by figures of speech. It seems to me that certain tropes tend to generate more self-reflective and responsive processes while others favor the reproduction of frozen judgments or dogma. As with entire narratives, I see tropes promoting more authoritarian and democratic practices among police officers. The themes included in table 5-2 reappear in some characteristic tropes. Combining the same sources, these are the most noticeable that I found: Certain tropes embedded in the discourse of police officers tend to generate more reflexive processes while others instead favor the reproduction of frozen judgments or dogma. Independently of its content, dogmatic statements constitute a source of political evil and authoritarianism. Instead, reflexive forms, stories that present us with puzzles and pose challenges promote learning, change, and transformation, as well as forms of interpellation conducive to self-examination are needed against the frost of dogma. Table 5-2. Authoritarian, ambiguous, and democratic Tropes Authoritarian Ambiguous Democratic TropesMilitaristic/War Denial of politics Exclusionary use of expertise Dismissal of the Law Justification of illegal forms of violence/Dirty Wars/War on Terror Racism/Classism History Community Religion National Heroes Citizenship Law Public Service Limits to Power Negotiation Reflexive Speech

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267 The Stories the Police Tell Themselves: Narratives of Argentinean, Uruguayan, Filipino, and British Police Officers Leslie Anderson (2002) presents Argentina as a new democracy in need of overcoming an entrenched authoritarianism that le gitimizes the use of violence against the other. Anderson traces the deep historical roots of Argentinean authoritarianism and the use of violence. She identifies a culture of conflictŽ as part of the nations core, which can be recognized at the very start of the nation in the 19th century. In a historical perspective, she suggests, Juan Manuel de Rosas paramilitary groups, La Mazorca,Ž do not appear that different from the paramilitary squads in the 1970s. How can two historical periods so distant such as Rosas times and the 1970s relate to each other? When Rosas was governor, Argentina was not yet a country. By the 1970s, it had grown to be considered one of the most industrialized and modern countries in Latin America, with a very diverse and educated population. In the perspective advanced by Andersons study, similar narratives on nationhood and personhood link both moments of Argentinean history. In this context, the analogy between la MazorcaŽ and the paramilitary squads of the Peronist right and el ProcesoŽ is easy to see. Narratives re-actualize old projects and possibilities of being. Argentineans have repeatedly embraced intolerant patterns that present the other not as an adversary, but as a traitor and an enemy.17 Both in the 19th and the 20th century, Argentineans accepted the use of violence against each other as a form of dealing with conflicts. Both Nicolas Shumway and Leslie Anderson coincide in placing the roots of this dynamics early in Argentinean history. Link proposes us to see the first 17 In contrast to Argentin eans, Uruguayans traditionally saw themselves as a democratic people. The idea of democracy belongs to the core of the Uruguayan nationhood.

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268 Argentinean novel, Esteban Echeverrías El Matadero (The SlaughterhouseŽ) as a symbol that stands for Argentinas bloody foundation (p. 63). Shumway frames the problem of Argentineans as having different guiding fictionsŽ (p. xi) that do not promote basic agreements but give rise to a mythology of exclusionŽ (p. x). 18 He argues that present-day Argentinean guiding fictions have their roots in the period 1808-1880 (xii). The impossibility to agree on a basic set of narratives fostered frequent deadly conflicts in Argentina and led the overall position of the country to sink. 19 Argentineans basic disagreements, says Shumway, lead at best To a lethargic impasse in which no one suffers too much; at worst, the rivalry, suspicion, and hatred of one group for another, each with different notions of history, identity, and destiny, lead to bloodlettings like the civil wars in the 1800s and even the dirty warŽ of the late 1970s which saw the disappearanceŽ of thousands of Argentines (p. 299). The lack of basic consensus causes the reproduction of a Schmittian friend/foe rationale that has repeatedly led Argentineans to use violence against each other. This tendency reached its paroxysm with the military in 1976, when exclusionary narratives served to legitimize the use of non-discursive sanctionsŽ such as expulsion, reclusion, torture, disappearance and annihilationŽ (Corradi 1996, p.93). Kalmanowiecki historicizes the influence of the same patterns among the Argentinean police. Early in the 20th century, the police used images of foreignnessŽ to stigmatize individuals, with foreignnessŽ being attributable not only to foreign immigrants but to anyone who introduced the germ 18 Shumways guiding fictions, often fabrications as artificial as literary fictionsŽ are narratives that give individuals a sense of nation, peoplehood, collective identity, and natio nal purpose.Ž In the case of the United States, Shumway identifies tropes of manifest destiny, melting pot, and American way of lifeŽ as fundamental guiding fictions that fo und Americans notion of the self. It is clear to see that Shumways guiding fictionsŽ consist of tropes and coincide w ith the notion of narratives endorsed by my study. 19 Oppositions such as Civilization vs . Barbarianism,Ž Unitarians vs. Federals, liberalism vs. nationalism, peronism vs. anti-peronism, among others, have framed enduring political identities in Argentina. What distinguishes all of them is the im possibility to coexist with the other.

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269 of dissent and dissolution, including policemen who demanded higher salariesŽ (2000, p.49).20 All these authors agree that the foundational oppositions still frame Argentineans political discourse and identity. Leslie Anderson (2002, p. 100) recognizes them in the pervasiveness of authoritarianism and intolerance in present-day politics: In Argentine politics one can still see wild and savage vestiges of authoritarianism struggling side by side with newer varieties of political and social behavior including mutual respect, dialogue, softened perceptions of the otherŽ and declining self-righteousness about any particular position. If Argentina succeeds in transforming these cultural patterns, says Anderson, then there is hope for other, less divisive, societies (p. 100). For elements of the rejection of extreme violence are also present in the Argentinean culture. Anderson sees them as the raw matter for the development of a democratic culture (p. 108). But authoritarian patterns continue haunting Argentinean politics two decades after the reinstallement of democracy. Anderson characterizes them: Nondemocratic governance patterns of strong-man personalism, paternalism, antagonistic moralism, unwillingness to compromise, disrespect for democratic institutions, denigration of opponents, and violent response to crisis, all appear repeatedly throughout Argentinas political history (p. 114). Andersons argument is relevant to my study of policing because Argentinean police forces constitute a privileged expression of the authoritarian and violent tradition she discusses. Their narratives oscillate between the authoritarian and democratic impulses that she identifies. The Mazorca/ProcesoŽ genocidal style of governance shows 20 Long before the doctrine of national security became dominant, there was a belief that dissident groups constituted dangerous pollutants, capable of debilitating, contaminating, and potentially destroying the entire societyŽ (Norden, 1996a: 243; Cantón, 1971: 147-161). In the police construction of the enemy within, subversiveŽ or seditiousŽ activities included any challenge to order an d morality (Guy, 1991). This was a Manichean world of internal enemies and epidemics remi niscent of medieval timesŽ (Kalmanowiecki, 2000, p.49).

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270 the police as a regime policeŽ (Neild, 1999). But other, more recent, narratives also show a democratizing potential among members of the Argentinean police. Even though narratives are so important that they shape our fate, they are still not preordained. There is some variety for us to we make the choice of what story to tell ourselves. We can tell ourselves that all other people are human beings with rights and dignity. Or we can tell ourselves that others are (not completely human) enemies, fundamentally wrong and unworthy of respect and a decent treatment. A democratic policing requires practices and narratives that promote dissent, debate, and agonism. The first step in this direction consists in identifying the potential of police tropes and stories to generate and legitimize practices of power. Then, we need to explore the possibilities for their democratization. This is the only way in which their patterns of using discretionary power can promote instead of undermine democratic practices. Unless those in charge of policing interiorize and appropriate democratic values, they will continue reproducing authoritarian practices in the interstices of the law. For no laws can guarantee that never againŽ the police are going to be used against the people. Listening to what police officers have to say is a key aspect of assessing the prospects for furthering democratization among the police. Clearly, the police cannot be turned into a democratic force anywhere, neither in new nor established democracies, until police officers themselves reject the role of political inquisitors and executioners of their fellow citizens and denizens. Hence, the democratization of policing is not about trying to colonize those in charge of policing us but about gaining their hearts (Smith). Peoples hearts are gained through stories. Yet, we must be aware of that, as Nussbaum notices, certain ideas about others may be grasped

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271 for a time and yet not be acted upon, so powerful are the forces of habit and the entrenched structures of privilege and convention (Nussbaum 1997, p.94). The mores embedded in images, tropes, and stories, can only spread in a limited fashion if the habits consecrated by the law diametrically contradict them. Of course, the organization of policing needs to accommodate legal and political democratic standards, including both internal and external forms of accountability. We can still rely on the Aristotelian insight to distinguish a good from a bad set of laws according to the habits they promote (Ethics, Book 2, i). But the law has interstices, which open the terrain of discretionary power. In those interstices, it is the mores conveyed through images, tropes, and stories, and the law as embodied in the habits that it achieves to create that influence the exercise of discretionary judgment. This section now presents narratives from four different national police forces, the Argentinean, British, Uruguayan, and Filipino. 21 The discussion will show major differences between the narratives, with some being more democratic and others less so. The preliminary analysis of the interviews suggests broad similarities between Uruguayan and British police narratives on the one hand, and Argentinean, Filipino, and American on the other hand. But a closer look uncovers differences. The next five subsections are organized around the stories that police officers tell themselves on different themes that seem central in shaping the use of discretionary power. They are the challenges of leaving the authoritarian past behind, their understanding of power, the representations of discretion, the images of the police role, and references to whether and how policing should make society visible. Within each 21 The corpus includes one interview with an American police officer, which I include for the sake of comparison.

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272 section and for each of them I show how the British and Uruguayan narratives are more civic while the Argentinean, Filipino, and American narratives are more ambiguous and militaristic. One of the puzzles that the analysis of these narratives poses is the striking differences between the Argentinean and the Uruguayan police despite their similar authoritarian past. Their different guiding fictionsŽ may serve to explain these differences in the elaboration of the past. Individuals result from the confluence of diverse narratives. What we call our identity is not different from a provisory balance between the different narrative strands that constitute us. That we attempt to achieve coherence does not mean that we succeed. Indeed, in the interviews presented in this chapter it is clear that the same individual may embody different and even contradictory narratives. Then not individuals per se but the narratives that we embody are what matter the most for an analysis of power. Broadly defined, the unit of analysis is police officers narratives on subjects such as police discretion, power, the role of the police in society, or democracy. Comparing police narratives from established democracies with others from new democracies is particularly important for my study. Such comparison allows us to identify similarities and differences, to see the ways in which local experiences impact on narratives, and to explore the possibility of transferring experience and learning in a narrative form. Furthermore, it also makes possible to retrace transnational matrices of authoritarian police narratives as identified by Schneider and Amar. The Challenge for Democracy Tens of thousands of individuals were disappearedŽ by paramilitary forces in Argentina between 1976 and 1983. The state terror policies that decimated a part of the population were made possible by militaristic police narratives. Political adversaries were

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273 represented as (ontological) enemies and political policing, torture, murder, and secrecy made admissible. The military government laid out a system of hundreds (probably around 400) clandestine centers of detention that were emplaced anywhere, from military barracks to private houses. How far is present-day Argentina from that terrifying (narrative) universe? As a side comment illustr ating the differences and similarities between the military and the police, the commissioner below presented me with one of the scariest stories that I heard in the southern cone. The story is one of terror, but it was referred just as a casual and proud illustration of the importance of the police. With apparent unawareness on the part of its enunciator, the story places the police at the core of state terrorist practices in the period 1976-83. Let me give you an example: a de factoŽ government with Argentina confronting subversion and terrorism. What happened? Who did the military send to the forefront? The police. Because the military does not know how to move in urban settings, nor does it know urban methods or practices. The police officer it is the one who does. Then, who did they send to the forefront? Police officers from the area. If we see statistics of the war against subversion in Argentina, the same way that there are many dead in the military, there are also many dead police officers. These were the ones who died first. However, those who appear as heroes for having defeated and expelled subversion and terrorism from our country are military officers. They receive all the credit. Because they were in charge of the government, they had all of their people well positioned while the police were far below. But, who went to the forefront? Who kicked and threw down the doors to enter the houses? The police. Who markedŽ places? The police, the police. Who were the first to fall and to make visible that the subversion was entering the country? The police. When patrol officers, who were especially weak targets and could be thrown down with a 22 started to die in Buenos Aires, the military said: Well, something is going on here.Ž Then it was the priests, and the politicians, and thus successively. It was then when the subversion was arriving (ARG16). State terror policies and the disappearance of thousands were made possible by the collaboration of the police with the military and by narratives that depicted Argentina as going through a dirty war.Ž A non-declared war on a vaguely defined subversionŽ required the use of illegal forms of violence, the population was told. The military either

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274 resorted to the police, or had to take on the functions of the police, locating and capturing subversivesŽ (Weiss Fagen, 1992, p. 56). State terror policies had the police as their main tool in Argentina and Uruguay during the 1970s. The author of the words above is a commissioner who defines policing as a service and seems positive about democracy„ democracy does wellŽ„he says. However, he vindicates the worst and most terrifying aspects of state terror. Several narrative strands coexist in this member of the police. But twenty years of democracy have made no dent in his mind that there was a war against subversion in Argentina,Ž and that subversionŽ was an evil, external force, that enteredŽ th e country. His militarism continues. Not only he assimilates the notion of subversionŽ to terrorismŽ and leaves both unexamined. He also tells us that the blood of humble and decent patrol officers had to be spilled first for the authorities to notice that subversion was entering the country,Ž that subversion was arriving.Ž These kinds of stories still circulate in Argentina, especially among police officers. They confusingly overlap with stories on democracy, managerialism, and the rule of law. Such a messy overlap denotes thoughtlessness. Lack of thought and reflexive thinking are major sources of evil (Arendt, 1963; Smith, 1998), foster Orwellian political orders, and stand as the opposite to democracy. Like the commissioner above, other members of the Argentinean police have justified their actions in the so called dirty war.Ž A member of the Argentinean Federal Police interviewed by Edwin Martin Andersen (2002, p. 259) says that the military Did not know anything about police work. We had to teach them everything, even how to fight the subversives. However, they always behaved as if they were the heroes of the movieŽ (p. 259).

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275 What are the consequences of police narratives framed in terms of war? How can citizens trust the police when the police can be turned against them like the army of an occupying power? How can we make sure that police power and knowledge is use to restrain the population but not to declare war against them? Moreover, his words put in question dominant scholarly assumptions that militarism sustains state terror. Reality is at least more complex, as police knowledge and power emerge at the core of Argentinean terrorist policies. The challenge for democracy, in Argentina and elsewhere, is to revise police narratives so that they and the practices they shape become more civic. But this is not a simple task, for police narratives have produced state terror and even democratic regimes have used such narratives. A tradition of acting against the people takes a toll. It translates in pervasive distrust to public institutions. Among the countries included in this study, Argentina is the one where the people trust their police the least. 22 61 46 47 16 60.7 0 10 20 30 40 50 60 70United States PhilippinesUruguayArgentinaGreat Britain Trust in the Police (%)Figure 5-1. Trust in the Police 22 See the complete data in Appendix C.

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276 Both Argentineans and Uruguayans went through similar fatidic experiences of authoritarianism and state terror. In Uruguay, Argentina, and Brazil, state terror implicated the entire military and police in illegal repression and murderŽ (Weiss Fagen, p. 56). Uruguayan members of the military and the police questioned and invariably tortured political suspects in barracks or police stations throughout the countryŽ (p. 59). In Uruguay, state terror was implemented through the prison system. Namely the prison LibertadŽ (cynically evoking freedom) was turned in a total institutionŽ were individuals were tortured through all kinds of methods until they were broken.Ž Juan Rial (1992), Daniel Gil (1990), and Marcelo Viñar (1993) have extensively described both those settings and techniques. Weiss Fagen estimates in about 50,000 the number of people who were arrested in Uruguay between 1972 and 1983. Many of them were tortured. As in Argentina, military officers were appointed chiefs of the police (p. 60). Three decades later, however, many more Uruguayan than Argentinean police officers seem sincerely committed to civic values. Despite an equivalent involvement of the Uruguayan and the Argentinean police forces with repression under military regimes, Uruguayan police officers show a stronger commitment to democracy. How can we account for these differences? One of the possibilities is that solid civic traditions in Uruguay have made Uruguayans more successful in providing their police with stories that help them to identify with democratic values. The commitment of Uruguayan citizens and their police with democratic institutions appears much stronger. As this Uruguayan commissioner puts it, In a military government, in general, a mentality of war is promoted among the police. Logically, it is the opposite of a mentality of caring for the neighbor, community oriented, of proximity. But in a democracy, precisely those are the profiles that you must pursue (UR2).

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277 Uruguayans rank among the highest in supporting democracy. It was 86% in 1999.23 The percentage of the Uruguayan population that expresses trust in the police is significant, especially in comparison with the case of Argentina. Their judiciary is independent, and it works. The conviction rate is high, episodes of police violence are rare, citizens tend to be treated equally and fairly by state institutions (Brinks, 2004, p. 14). Overall, Uruguayans have a secular tradition of citizenship, respect, dialogue, and consensus over basic issues. Their experience with authoritarianism in the 1970s appears more as an exception than as a rule. Argentineans stand in the antipodes. Views of Power The democratization of policing requires acknowledging that power is exercised by those who police us. We cannot democratize the power involved in police discretion unless we first recognize that power. Only once we recognize power can we examine if it is organized and administered in an authoritarian or a democratic fashion. But most police officers do not recognize that they have power. Power. Power for what? I never considered this before. Power or no power, I go on performing my functions. I do not see it in terms of whether or not I have power. I do not see it from this viewpoint. I try to do my best, as it corresponds, and I do not consider it this way, as if I have power (ARG5). The word power in the police, I do not deal with itŽ (ARG20), says one interviewee from Buenos Aires. The police have no power, there is no power with the police. No power, as the police have no freedomŽ (ARG4) agrees another police officer. Yet some police officers do recognize that they have power: Do you know that police officers are not conscious of having power? One is never aware. Do you know when you realize that you have power? In extreme circumstances, for example when you must arrest a person. I am a lawyer!Ž„the 23 Democracy and Governance Survey,Ž Human Sciences Research Council (HSRC).

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278 person threatens you. But you threatened, hurt, or attacked him,Ž you say. …But I am a lawyer,Ž he or she responds. At that moment, one looks for two witnesses, follows the legal procedures, reads the person his or her rights, and takes him or her under arrest, a lawyer or whoever she or he is. These are the moments when I think you realize that you have power. But this does not happen frequently. It is so routine our function, so routine that, no, you dont think of it (ARG4). The invocation of power generates discomfort among many Argentinean police officers. After decades of de factoŽ governments and institutional crises, powerŽ connotes both abuse and corruption. These officers need to begin by recognizing that they have power. Only then can they democratize that power. In Manila, power seems not to be as problematic as in Buenos Aires. Filipino police officers admit that they have power: When it comes to criminals we are powerful, because we are the ones who arrest themŽ (PHIL7). This interviewee highlights a key feature of police power, the power to arrest. This American police officer presents a third view of power. He associates power with learning that no crime occurs during my shiftŽ (US). This is a power of control. As we can see, powerŽ does not translate automatically into the same political terms for Argentine, Filipino, and American police officers. Sometimes it means might, sometimes effectiveness, and sometimes authority. These references suggest a tension between power as domination and power as authority. A British police interviewee highlights a more civic view of power, namely as authority rather than the ability to use force. He says that Britain has a low ratio of police to citizens: Only Holland and Denmark come approximately near ours. All the others in Western Europe show a much higher ratio of police to public. And we're unarmed. It means that you can't impose your will on the public. You have to actually get their consent for what it is that you are doing, much more today, and not just their consent but their participation. That's moved on a level from consent (UK58).

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279 This view contrasts with that of Argentinean police officers who complain about the scarcity of personnel and resources. The British officer exhibits a low ratio police/public with pride. Such a different way of positioning oneself before power suggests the need to differentiate between domination and authority. Most Argentinean police officers seem to associate power not with legitimate authority but with domination, for they do not convey substantial differences between the domination of an authoritarian government and the legitimate authority of a democratic regime. To most Argentinean police officers, power appears associated with the possibility to make capricious decisions and to use the state apparatus and state force with sectorial and personal purposes. Most police officers communicate this perception with a tone of skepticism and disapproval, but only a few of them reject being subservient to power. Therefore, at least in places such as Argentina, the democratization of policing needs to instill narratives that make clear the difference between the legitimate authority that arises from democratic forms of governance and the power that results from arbitrary, forceful imposition of an illegitimate mandate. 24This is what fails here, can you see? Here, if you are a politician or public officer with certain weight, with just picking up the phone you can turn upside down an entire police station. -No problem.Ž And now it is even more apparent (ARG27). In the Northeast of Argentina, this commissioner puts the relation between the police and politicians in more clear (and worrying) terms, for he defines the police as the GodfatherŽ of the Governor: Our subordination, as police officers, as employees, in our career, is due to the one who gives us promotions: the Governor. We are the Governor. How could I put it? We are the Governors Godfather.Ž Do you know the story? The Godfather is 24 In fact, for theorists such as Arendt the impositio n of my will over others through the use of violence does not amount to po wer but constitutes its opposite.

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280 involved in everything. In good things, in bad things, in little affairs, in big ones. We are the Godfather of the Governor, which the Governor always needs. In good, bad, little, big things. The police are always there the same way that the Godfather is always there (ƒ) Or, what would the Governor do without the police? Certainly, it is the governor who is invested with police power. But we are the ones who perform it. There is a group of people who use the power to police and the Governor uses this group of people. He supports himself upon this group of people to be able to govern, because he is no fool (ARG17). As the rationale displayed by Tilly and the cases discussed by Mehlum et al. , this account blurs differences between democracy and authoritarianism, stateness and organized crime. The description of the loyalty owed by the police to the provincial Governor ignores the people and the differences between a democracy and any other form of political regime. The concept of democratic authority is lacking or discredited in his account. In the antipodes of the latter in both geographical and ideological terms, the commissioner below conveys shame and pain for the role of provincial police forces in sustaining caudillos and clientelistic networks in current Argentina: Reality in Argentina is brave, harsh, cruel. After one hundred fifty years, after two hundred years, we come to discover that Argentina looks pretty much like García Márquezs description of Macondo. We are still living in the middle ages. Why mention the middle ages? Because the provinces are still feuds. Provinces in Argentina are feuds. (ƒ)There is a group of feudal lords, power circulates only within a sector, and the rest of the people are left watching. With pain, I must tell you that sometimes the police represent only the powerful (ARG22). This commissioner calls for a change because many things must be changed about the police in Argentina.Ž In Uruguay and Britain, despite political differences, there seems to be a deeper consensus on the value of democracy and policy. The British police officer expresses the latter, pride in being a part of a society where he sees that people do not need to be as policed as elsewhere.

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281 Part of these different views of power come from the structure of state apparatuses. While in Argentina the police answer to both the national and provincial executive powers, there is no such relation of due obedienceŽ between the police and the executive in the U.K. Direct subservience to the executive makes direct orders possible: In other countries politicians can say to a police chief you will resolve that demonstration and you will resolve it with all force at your means and do it now.Ž In that country that would be a lawful instruction that can end up in death and killing. For example, in Chicago, Mayor Daily gave a direct instruction to the chief police. You will use force,Ž he said, and he had the power to tell him to do that. As a result, the police went berserk. But in this country, the UK, no politician can tell a chief constable to do that. I think thats a very important political arrangementƒYou will not tell me how I will do this. You may criticise me, you may say that Ive been ineffective, you might argue that I am wrong but you are not going to tell me to do that. I will decide (UK20). In the UK, police officers experience changes of governments mostly as shifts in policies, emphases, and models. Argentineans instead still perceive change with fear, for their direct dependence on governors. To most people who are in turn afraid of the police, their fear may look paradoxical or paranoid. But the polices is a fear to higher authorities. It is unclear whether this fear is inherited from military governments. What is clear instead is that fear reproduces secrecy and authoritarian practices. The police do not open themselves much. It is true. This happens even with police officers who work in the Press section. Sometimes the media call police stations requesting information, and the police do not want to talk. No! Those from Press should speak to them!Ž I think it has to do with our strict dependence on whoever is the governor at the moment. At this point, 2003, even people who have a good educational background are afraid to talk because they are afraid of making mistakes and to be told that they did wrong. They are afraid and they lock themselves (ARG19). Argentinean police officers are themselves afraid. It is fear that police officers invoke not to concede interviews to university researchers. It is fear that makes them unwilling to participate in fighting corruption. It is fear that they mention when requested for their subservience to local caudillos. The still w eak Argentinean institutions have consecrated

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282 the leadership of regional caudillos in many provinces. It is not infrequent for governors to use the police as their own armed forces and sources of political intelligence. Former President and Governor of the Buenos Aires province Eduardo Duhalde is no exception: Think of the power of gathering information that the police have. With Duhalde, for example, when surveys were still not on fashion, I remember that public opinion surveys were based on the information that the police gave to him. He used the police to get the thermometer of the social structure.Ž But this seems a story by Georges Orwell (ARG27). Democracy seems to have brought more stability to policy in Uruguay than in Argentina. In Argentina, fear, instability, and personal dependence have worsened due to unfinished processes of democratic reform. The incomplete process of reform of the Buenos Aires police led by Dr. León Arslanián in 1998 stands as an example: While the intervention did break certain vertical structure of power, it replaced it with nothing. They left the reform inconclusive, and the opportunity that was lost by then is not going to be recreated ever again. Because they killed, not the reform, but ƒ When they left, many good people within the police were left exposed and defenseless. Everything good that existed within the police of the Buenos Aires province was hidden, because people had to protect themselves. When the reform started, these good people were convoked. They came out, but then, when the reform was abandoned, these people were fired or punished, and all of them got burned with hot milk.Ž And those coming after them are their enemies and enemies of the reform. Therefore, now they are all afraid. The government in the province is doing whatever, and ƒ there was not a single one police chief who dared to pick up the phone to call the media to say: No, see, this is not this way. Not all of the members of the police are corrupt.Ž Nobody says anything. They are all grappled to their seatsŽ (ARG27). Police officers have good reason to be afraid of civilian power. Minister Arslanián launched a comprehensive and ambitious reform of the BonaerenseŽ police. He forced more than 200 Commissioners questioned for violence or corruption into retirement. His plan divided police districts into 18 regions and placed civilians at the head of the police force. Arslaniáns third main goal was to create different specialized bodies within the police to achieve the improvement of their professional training. He fired more than

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283 4,000 police officers accused of corruption or misconduct. Many of those fired police officers resettled in the market of private security companies. Arslanián was resisted by the police and the right wing. A skyrocketing crime rate served his enemies as an alibi to fire him in 1998. The officer endorses the democratic reform of the police. However, he reproaches radical attempts such as Arslaniáns for exposing people like himself within the organization and then leave them abandoned to the authoritarian hierarchy. In this sense, he judges attempts such as Arslaniáns counterproductive. He suggests that truncated democratic reforms of the police in Argentina have destabilized previous authoritarian arrangements without replacing them with new ones. The possibility to pick up the phoneŽ to turn a police station upside downŽ that characterized judicial prerogatives, now can be done by anyone.Ž This is what happens inside of the organization when reforms are left half-done. Shaw sees similar problems in South Africa. As in Argentina, the democratic process has weakened authoritarian institutions without being able to emplace functioning new ones. The construction and consolidation of some form of democratic order challenges us with a paradox. Whereas democracy requires stability and order,Ž the process of dismantling authoritarian institutions and organizing democratic institutions tends to be accompanied by violence and disorderŽ (Bayley 1995, p.62). This Argentinean police officer below makes a clear distinction between authoritarian and democratic order, yet he also addresses the difficulties in maintaining order in a new democracy: It is easier to maintain order in an authoritarian government. No doubt it is. But it is a useless order, and it is useless because it creates resentments that at some point explode. In the current world, democracy for me is the only way of living together. And if security fails in democracy is because society is failing, not democracy. It is failing because of the bad use that that is being made of democracy, of democratic values. (The rise of crime) is associated with a social problem and the weakening of

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284 structures. It is to go from liberty to libertinage, to a bad use of liberty. But it is not a problem of the democratic system (ARG7). Through violence, authoritarian practices mimic authority and have individuals obeying out of fear. On this basis, they can generate the illusion of order for a while. The Argentinean police officer above acknowledges the bogus character of order as advanced by authoritarian experiments. True order can only emerge through peoples dialogue and agreement. Yet, the latter is not an easy task to fulfill. Before the instability and frustration that the dynamics of building a democratic order generate, it is tempting to go back to the appearance of order of authoritarianism. Policing is a privileged arena where these tensions take place. The first step in democratizing power is to recognize that it exists. That basic recognition varies among police officers from different national contexts. The police forces that are characterized by more dem ocratic behavior are also those more willing to admit their own power. Beyond the recognition of power, we find that the exercise of it can also be viewed differently. It can be seen as the ability to control others or as the authority to command the respect of others. How discretionary power is used The next chapter presents police discretion as a case of sovereign power and political judgment. The quotation below underscores the need for flexibility, or discretion, to adjust specific, particular, unique situations to the law. It is clear that the exercise of discretion involves judgment and opens up the context to the consideration of factors that could not be foreseen by the legislator. Opportunities for discretionary judgment arise across all police functions. Yet, as with views of power, views of

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285 discretion vary. How do police officers feel directly about their own discretionary prerogatives? Their appreciation varies. Most interviewees defend the need for discretion: Unfortunately, even though it may seem to you that you are giving too much power to the police, you must give us that power. Otherwise, as it happens these days, we cannot interrogate, we cannot„supposedly, according to the new Codebook„we cannot stop people without justification. I do not mean arresting them, but just stopping them in the street to ask them where they go, where they live. Nor can we search their cars (ARG3). Given the situation, we cannot ask our commander to decide. Especially if we face a situation, we must act readily because danger is already there. It is an instinct to decide because lives are at stake. On the spot, the officer needs to make decisions. So, an officer needs absolute power or to immediately decide on this situations (PHIL3). Again, the civic and authoritarian perceptions of our different police groups present themselves. In the next quotes an Argentinean officer presents discretion as absolute, unbounded power. Every situation is different and it doesnt necessarily have to stick it out to the book. On and off the record, I think its advantageous for any law enforcer to really use his discretion once hes on the beat, for every action, every move could mean the difference between life and death for the law enforcer (PHIL1). Discretionary power is a margin that the law gives to me. In fact, I should not arrest anyone unless I catch him on the spot. But if you are telling me that he is the one, my discretionary power gives me the possibility of taking him with me (ƒ)We have discretionary power, but people interpret it according to how it affects them (ARG10). Discretion goes with the person, it depends on the kind of person. (ƒ) Let us say that a person insults a police officer. Some, depending on the persons character, for it is always something individual, some are going to beat him up to death, to injure him, and there are others than will not! They will realize that the person is on drugs, that he is not in his mind. Logically, in principle he will exercise violent force but up to a point. He contains him, he supports him, and that is it. But this has to do with the person because one does not have rules for everything, it is impossible to have rules for everything. Each concrete case may be similar but is never the same (ARG4).

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286 The reference above turns discretion into absolute power and personal prerogative of police officers. It attributes to each police officer the possibility to beat someone to deathŽ or simply to arrest the person as he wishes. Discretion appears here as absolute power that exceeds the law. This quote illustrates the dangers of discretion when the one who exercises it conceives of this power as unbounded. Discretion used in this manner is authoritarian. But narratives that recognize power as limited by the law, manners, ethics, or the police are more democratic. They address the enormous power entrusted to the police and suggest the need to use it with responsibility. Again, the Uruguayan contrast is instructive. The need for limits to discretion emerges in the voices below. They address the need of limits for different reasons, ranging from the respect for human rights and the law to the achievement of efficiency. A Uruguayan commissioner poses the need to codify procedures and set clear principles for the exercise of discretion, or freedom, as he puts it: I believe that the police must be clear on what are their capacities and their limits, but they have to have freedom. This is not clear these days. I am for a code of police procedures. This is the image that I have in mind. Otherwise, we are left in too elastic a terrain. One takes this, stretch es this a bit, according to ones convenience and interests, andƒIt is very dangerous (UR3). But can also see how this member of the Argentinean police coincides: The police officer should have freedom of movement, but this freedom must be limited by laws and rules. He should never have such a complete freedom of movement that he is allowed to do whatever he wants at any time. Discretion must be kept within certain parameters (ARG7). Freedom of movement then is not absolute power but needs to be oriented by laws and rules, says the Argentinean police officer, whereas the his Filipino colleague judges discretion only adequate at the operative level: I believe that discretionary actions are only good at the tactical level. In the police we have the operatives who respond to situations at the tactical level. These are our

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287 Special Weapons and Tactics groups„the SWAT, who normally are the first ones to respond to situations of crisis. Full discretion is given to this people because they are the ones who know most about whats going on in the crime scene or when there is crisis going on. They are guided by guidelines and rules of engagement that restrict their power but also give them the power to decide on their own at their level on the basis of what is going on. But in other areas of the organization, like in the middle management offices, full discretion is not really advisable (PHIL1). Ulterior accountability accompanies and seeks to balance the ample discretion on the field that this police officer has: I think we are given a lot of freedom on how to apply the rules, but I think we also are held accountable on how we apply the rules. We have to articulate and justify our decisions on a daily and weekly basisƒIn Court, but mostly with our supervisors (US). Not merely the law, but also the consideration of civil liberties and good taste operate as limits for discretionary power in this account: I always believed that full discretion is only as good as long as no element of civil liberty is infringed or no right of the person is violated, full discretion can be applied ƒ as long as everything is done in good taste and in accordance to the law„ full discretion is advised (PHIL1). Procedures and manners seem to count for these Filipino police officers, as well as the consideration for not abusing power and not violating human rights: As long as you are enforcing the law properly and with the right police procedures, thats the right way. If however, you are using your authority and you are already violating the human rights of the person, even if its the suspect. That should not be. Their rights should be given/said (PHIL3). Dont abuse your power and dont violate human rights. Follow the policies of the station and the organization. If youve been in the service as long as I have, then you already know how to handle this power and freedom. Just be a good leader and know your subordinates so that you will know who needs guidance (PHIL5). This Uruguayan commissioner justifies moderate discretion on grounds of considering the socioeconomic situation of the country and the need not to discriminate or criminalize people just because they are poor or do not have a job:

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288 Norms and codes establish the norms that we must follow in our country, but not necessarily everything should be based on the law. The good use of discretion I believe has to do with the formation of personnel, with making them believe that there is a task to fulfill, that it is a task, and that there is a line on one side defining what constitutes excess, and other line on the other side defining what constitutes negligence. It has to do with our professional background and with the socioeconomic conditions of the country. For example, these days officially we have 17% unemployment, but it must be in fact about 20%. There are people living in situations that could call ones attention. However, one must be flexible, one must understand many things. I do not mean to be permissive or anything like that. Simply, it is about being flexible, based on the problematic that one faces (UR1). Some of the Argentine officers do recognize the need to make discretion more democratic. This Argentinean officer suggests the need to interiorize ethical norms, yet norms must be clear. Assuming the existence of just norms and principles, he compares learning to use discretionary power by the police to learning martial arts: There must be clear rules. There must be certain parameters. I relate this with martial arts. I practice martial arts. There are two options to teach a kid: by principle or by forms. By principle is something like straight back, good position, timingŽ ƒ principles, and you follow these principles ƒ The alternative is to teach by forms, for example: Take the others hand, lift it, move it thereƒŽ If one does the forms well, one is complying with the principles. And if you follow principles, in short one is complying with forms. Some Eastern theories teach to enter through the form and then leave the form behind.Ž Learn, master, and then break the form. Something like this occurs with us. We need clear rules. What I need is, I am not a robot, I don not need to have all possible alternatives previously identified and written. But there must be clear principles. Then there is the use of force. Something that I find very appropriate is the use of force continuumŽ: this allows the person to respond. Because discretion should not be unlimited (ARG27). This female police officer seems to coincide on the need of supporting the use of discretion with a good education: For me, the ideal would be that the police have more freedom. But the key issue is the formation of the police, because we cannot give that freedom to any person. In short, it is about having more freedom but also knowing how to use it (ARG19). One way to limit the abuse of discretion is simply to limit discretion. The British officer below completely opposes using discretion. He rejects exemplary actions allowed by discretion, such as punishing only a few transgressors to teach the others to respect

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289 rules and laws. He mentions an opportunity in which the police knew that hundreds of motorcyclists would march without wearing helmets to protest compulsory regulations on using them. My chaps said to me 'what are we going to do sir?' I said 'what you'd better do is talk to them, meet them and talk to them when they come'.' -Yes sir, but they will be defying the law'.'-Yes, but you can't arrest them all'.'-No, but we can token them'. -'No, that is not just, you don't just arrest five because you've five hundred committing offenses. It's wrong, morally and ethically wrong, and you have discretion as a police officer in enforcing law'. So I developed a policy to inform, educate and enforce, I put it that orderŽ (UK55). Asked for the amount of discretion (or freedom) that the police need, this Uruguayan commissioner converges with the British on the need to obey the sovereign people: We must enjoy the amount of freedom that the citizenry considers appropriate for us to enjoy. Because, definitively, the laws with which we regulate our activities are voted by the Parliament, the Parliament is chosen by the people, and if the people consider that this is the form in which we have to work, we must adjust ourselves to what the law establishes. A law that is voted at the Parliament (UR3). After elaborating on this concept, he concludes: In sum, this is a problem that society must solve. We will obey what society decides. We may say Yes, it would be good ƒ to work in this manner.Ž But in definitive it is the laws that will tell us about the form in which we must work. And we, who are living in a democratic regime, we must defend this, and we must believe that this must be this way, right? (UR3). This way of reasoning involves an open understanding of order in which various alternatives are possible and must be defined by the sovereign people. This is an example of a non-platonic form of thinking, in which expertise is put to the service of the people and not the other way round. Not that this commissioner poses as an uncritical servant of democracy: he expects his voice to be listened to in both of his qualities as a professional and as a citizen. But between these two facets that he embodies, no doubt he prioritizes considering himself first as a citizen.

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290 Another young officer rejects the image that the police are constrained by excessive limitations and rules. Instead, he chooses to take responsibility for the lack of professionalism and efficiency of the police forces: I think that we do not have our hands tied up. We have all the freedom to work. I do not have any problem. We have always had freedom to work. We should be conscious, we should proceed to a self-examination to ask ourselves whether we are working well. Because we are clearly not perfect. Based on that perhaps we do not work well. Well, I think that this makes that the criminal escapes. We do not gather evidence as we should because of not taking care of the proofs. And then, the criminals defender takes advantage of that to ask for the nullification of the case. To have him released, right? It is us the ones who, I think we do not have our hands tied up. We must work well within the parameters of the law, and that is it (ARG15). As with views of power, views of discretion also vary. Some officers think discretion itself should be limited. Others see it as an opportunity either to respect others (Uruguay) or to intimidate or even abuse others (Argentina). Images of po wer The ways in which police officers see themselves and their functions have consequences for their practices. These images organize their exercise of discretionary power. This section presents a table with all the images of the police that were identified by the interviewees. These images are important for they organize the police officers perception of themselves and their role, their judgment, and their patterns of intervention. These images and tropes are the ones identified by Shearing and Ericson as key determinants of police practices. Aware of this, this British officer explains how definitions affect organization, learning, and practices. If your pre-definition about role is 'the police are a crime fighting agency' a law enforcement agency, who were there to go out and catch villains, lock them up, put them away, or get somebody else to put them away, you could actually quite clearly definite a number of things that are core to that, and potentially hive off the others. () However, if your role definition is actually not necessarily as a law enforcement agency, but more as a peace keeping, problem solving organisation,

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291 then actually how do you define anything out of that? (ƒ) And if we're shifting our emphasis onto problem identification, and problem solving, that actually means that we've got to learn a lot of new techniques and new ways of working together, and stretching some of the boundaries. It's all about trying to make life better, for all of us.(ƒ) And in policing in particular ƒ there has to be some form of identification with a community (UK58). Crime fighting, peacekeeping, problem-solving, and community policing appear in this account as alternative forms of defining and practicing policing. But there is more to them. As it can be seen in table 5-3, a multiplicity of images are invoked to depict policing. Images and functions overlap and appear in different combinations. Thus, for example, the trope serviceŽ emerges alternatively associated with religion, the public, or managerial references. Table 5-3 is relatively long, for I have tried to preserve the diversity of images of the police conveyed by the interviewees. More than any other reference in this chapter, the quotations included in the table epitomize the comprehensiveness of police power discussed in chapters 3 and 4. Accounts on police discretionary power give support to Neocleous' thesis that the 18th century police project continues in present-day police. Let us see how police officers from different countries conceive of the police:

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292Table 5-3. Images of the Police Themes Images Vertigo To be a police officer is to be standing, and then there is nothing before you (ARG4) Problems The police are a huge receptor of problems (ARG4) [The challenge is] To deal with the problems that people face, trying to resolve them by arriving to a satisfactory conclusion. So, the concept of value for money is still seen as a management thing, not a sergeant, constable, inspector thing (UK) Solving problems. The police officer must solve problems, must be a person with capacity of learning to solve problems. This is his task, to solve problems (UR6). Justice "The police are a tool of Justice () Sometimes, imposing the law is not pleasant or required by the people, but it must be done through force. Lets say that the armed force of justice is the police. This is why Justice has the little scale and the sword. (ARG3) The police officer is someone who makes justice. This is the typical feature of the police officer (ARG15). Someone who helps, brings security and makes or tries to make justice. Whether justice is achieved is other story. The problem is that people see the police as the answer, but the police are only intermediaries. The ones who decides are the judges (ARG8). Justice vs. the law This is how I see it: when there is a confrontation between Law and Justice, one must fight for Justice. Because sometimes a law may be quite stupid, and may be passed by people who have no idea of what they are voting for, who just raised their hands at 2am and said yes, thus it is a law, but it is a stupidity. I believe that one must always

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293TABLE 5-3. ContinuedThemes Images apply a bit of common sense trying to be just. To be just sometimes requires to twist things a bit (ARG3) Honor The police officer is prepared to work with honesty and honor (ARG10) Commissioners have always been invited to barbecues and to drink wine. But we do not want to get invitations for barbecues anymore. We want to be invited to full-dress celebrations, and we can achieve this. We are invited, in fact we are invited to fulldress celebrations. But we want to be always invited to these celebrations, not just to barbecues and to drink wine. We are working on this. (UR6) The police coincide with the idea of service. (ARG7) Service to the people, service to others. (PHIL7) The sethe police officer is a public servant so the image of the police to be of service, who is a man of honor and who is just because thats the realm of PNP(Philippine National Police )service, honor and justice. So these values is embraced by the image of the police. (PHIL4) Care of Life The police officer must be integrally committed with the service that he performs. He knows well that it is not only about confronting an armed criminal, in some circumstances, but also about throwing himself into a river to save a life or to help a woman to deliver a baby. There are several things involved. (UR3) A good police officer is someone who touches and changes others life. (PHIL7) Service Protection Protector. Not like superman because we are only human. Our basic duty is to enforce the law and protect the life and properties of the people. Our image is to be a public servant.

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294Table 5-3. Continued Themes Images We should see the police officer like a protector, righ? Like a protector, someone to whom one may go and feel that is going to respond. With capacity, with capacity, he must have capacity, and Well, to be a person who offers an image of protection. I hate fat police officers, I hate fat police officers. Because as I see it, they do not offer an image of anything. Because I know that a person that does not take care even of himself.(ARG15) Help I see the police officer as the Servant. I mean like a public servant, who is there to help those who need you, whether it is in the street or in any other place. To be well predisponed to know that someone needs you here instead of give the person your back and leave. To serve and help your fellows in what you can, right? In whatever is within your reach (ARG19). Help The image of helping. That is to help. But what also happens to us, to our generation, is that we affected by the fact that people remember us only when they need us and see us as the bicho feo. (ARG20) Whoever wears this uniform, his or her duty is to help you, on any matter, on whatever you ask (ARG19) Priest This is a profession that I associate with being a priest. In some cases, one does never call the priest, but when one is close to die, one wants a priest by ones side. It is the same with us: there are many times in which people do not call us, but whenever there is a problem, the police officer must be there. (ARG21) Religious connotations JesusPolice should be like Jesus Christ (PHIL7)

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295Table 5-3. ContinuedThemes Images The Poor/ Lower Class The police officer probably represents the depressed sectors of the population. Economically and culturally depressed. (ARG22) there is a historian who tells the story of the Argentinean police, she is from Buenos Aires, I cannot recall her name now. She tells who the police were! If you see, they were people who did not have jobs, just arrived in ships, many did not even speak Spanish. (ARG27) Social Work So the police force, fine, it's a police service, if you want to do Social Service work go and join the Social Ser vices, the number of police officers, male and female, who come in with these sort of glazed sort of social service approach and I've had it, oh I think this is a terrible area to work in, how people live like this I do not know (UK19) National Heroes Speaking of San Martn: go to any police office and you will see, in any police office, the picture of San Martn is posted in the back. In fact, it is mandatory for it to be there. (ARG27) Seriousness Police work is not a laughing matter. There are those who die in doing police work. The work of a police is not a simple matter. The life of a police is at risk once he entered the service (PHIL3). Family We can say that the Federal Police is a kind of older brother of the provincial police forces. An older brother than possibly represented those police officers with much more education. Their education level was higher than the one of the rest of the police. (ARG22) The Feudal World Reality in Argentina is brave, harsh, cruel. Because after one hundred fifty years, after two hundred years, we come to discover that Argentina resembles very much what Garca Mrquez said. We are still living in the Middle Ages. And, why do I mention this of the Middle Ages? Because the provinces are still feuds. Provinces in Argentina are feuds ()There is a group of feudal lords and power circulates only within a sector, and the rest of the inhabitants are left watching. Incredibly and with pain I must tell you that sometimes the police represent the sector of the powerful (ARG22). The Law A police is someone who understands the law (PHIL6).

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296Table 5-3. Continued Themes Images Governors Assist in governing the society (PHIL6). Peacekeeping Of all the other more important duties and responsibilities of a law enforcer. I think he has to be, number onea responsible member of the community. Number twohe has to take the challenges of being a leader in the community. Number threehe has to also inform every one of the shared responsibility of public safety. ()Peace and orderthats the primary role of the police, to make sure that peace and order is maintained. And that the rule of law is always applied, every time a crime is committed. The guilty party should be given due process of law and everything in the legal and judicial system should be exacted in accordance to the law (PHIL1). Keep the peace, protect life and property (US). Prevention The police must prevent, not make justice. Justice is advanced by the judiciary, not the police. The police must prevent and act or execute to the extent that facts or events transgress a norm (ARG10). Change About the police, much needs to be changed. A lot must be changed. (ARG22) Justification The mission of the police, supposedly, is to prevent and to repress. But I think that these days it is, how can I put it? These days, uh, we are there just to justify. Unfortunately, this is the way it is these days (ARG3). Victim The media see the same that they see of societys rancor. This is, they record this; thus, the police officer is always the bad guy in the movie. If he does something right Well, it was his job. If he does something wrong, we punish him (ARG14) Lets stop rancors I was not a repressor. I was not involved in the times of the repression, yet these days I must endure vexations such as protestors spitting on my face, uh? And, any man would lift his hand before that! (ARG0) Humanism When I chose to enter the police, I was told: There is nothi ng more humanistic than the police. It seems to me that

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297Table 5-3. ContinuedThemes Images the police officer must have a humanistic sense. Nothing more than a humanistic sense. Besides counting with the notion of what it is to serve others, the police officer must have a humanistic sense. Unfortunately, see, we still have many things from that are still with us and of which we are trying to cleanse ourselves. () I do not want to sell you anything, but Yes, the police officer must be a humanist. And the subaltern personnel must have a notion of professionalism. (ARG22) Work/Identity You know, a subaltern officer usually says I work as a police officer. () Instead, if you ask me What are yo u? I say I am a police officer. There is a relationship of belonging. I am a police officer (ARG22). A Company We want to convince those who work with us. We think that the police are a company, a company of services. Therefore, they must offer quality services and of very high quality. Thus, what is our bet? That our police officer, when he is in the street, is prepared. And that he communicates and relates to the people (UR6). I have personnel, like any manager from any company. I have means and resourcespaperwork, machines, computers, cars, like any other company. It is just like if he sells more, the company tells him Well, Mr. Manager, this year (or this month) you sold very well, therefore you will be rewarded as the chief. Because you generated this. That is, here the statistics can be zero, and Logically, for us there is a promotion. Its the same than with any manager in any company (ARG16). Management Vs. Moral Quality And unashamedly, using that word, saying that my aim was not managerialism, which is technically to do the thing right. It was moral, to do the right thing. () If we call ourselves an organisation committed to quality, then one of your quality principles has got to be continuous improvements. But we don't play with symbolism (UK58) Community I remember when I was small, that was before the old police organization was in its original structurewe call it the constabulary police. A policeman would walk in the streets and everybody would just salute him in a way because

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298Table 5-3. Continued Themes Images police then was very much respected. Nowadays, its different. Not necessarily negatively but the essence of the police is that every policeman is a member of the community. And the community must also be part of that responsibility to protect the safety of the community. If I may, theres this English law enforcer academician who said that, Id like to quote him, its Robert Peel who said that: Community is the police and Police is the community meaning community shares the responsibility of also making sure that the public safety is maintained and the police cannot just do it alone ()Law enforcement and public safety really is everybodys business. So that I think is the essence of being a police officer is making sure that everyone knows their responsibility and duty in public safety ()Without the cooperation of any one these, I dont think its going to go anywhere. The police can only do so much. If the community cooperates and volunteers information, we would be able to make sure that public safety is maintained. (PHIL1). A Developer A PNP officer can be a jack of all trades. They can be an adviser to a neighborhood, community. You can do more, not only enforcement of the law but also helping the community to be a better place to be (PHIL3). A Listener People come here with the need that someone listens to them and they leave content. We solve the person a problem, and he or she leaves content. Because you took time to listen to each one and everyone (ARG21). The Patrol Officer the reliable and honest officer with great integrity and walking the beat, I mean the public still hold the image thing about foot patrol. Where ever I go we want more foot patrols. Its an odd thing about this (UK19) Elegance The image that we have of what the police are, a more accurate image of what should be the professional police, is this of Americans. How do we see the police? We see the police officer as someone elegant Well, he must be an elegant person, a well uniformed person, a person who can talk, who can have a dialogue with those he has to pay attention to, who can solve problems, who drives a clean car (UR6) Operator Do not forget that the police are an operator, the ones who operate (UR3) Chasing Transgressors Policing is about locking the bastards up and potting a few motorists, there's nothing sophisticated about policing (UK19).

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299Table 5-3. Continued Themes Images Firearm We are civilians with a firearm (ARG14). We All Are the Police The ability to arrest anyone who just committed or about to commit, by principle of citizens arrest and using that principleyou have the police power to arrest just about anyone who has knowledge about a crime that has just been committed or about to be committed . So by that principle, that makes you as much as a police as we are. The only difference is we wear the badge and we wear the uniform. That I think is the essence of the police. Its a common responsibility and the only thing is that, formally and technically, we are employed by the government as law enforcers (Manila 1). Thought We must be thoughtful beings, who must solve situations in a matter of seconds. Then, sometimes one judges Also, within the police everyone must think, from the bottom to the top in the ladder. () In the army, the hierarchical officers think and the troops obey. This is not the case with the police. Police officers must think, all of them. They must think because they are those who are in the street solving problems. This is why we say that the police officer must solve problems, must be a person with the capacity to learn to be able to solve problems. Because this is his task. It is to solve problems. All of the Above Here in the Philippines, a police is a jack of all trades, master of none. You can be a doctor, a teacher, adviser its the nature of our job. All-around. We play many roles in the society. (PHIL5) I believe that the police officer is a heap of tasks embodied in one person. In our specific case, here in the province , there are various aspects. The police as security, the uniformed agent that can guarantee security in the streets. I spent a while in the interior of the province where the police officer is a teacher, a midwife, I had to help to deliver a child. Thus, I believe that there is not a definition there must be one, but I do not look for it. For me, the police officeris the guy who serves no only in the phase of security, who can do a lot of things. The guy can police helping to clean or to build a school, for example, and by so ping it seems to me that he is satisfactorily playing his role, more than by

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300Table 5-3. ContinuedThemes Images carrying a gun and wearing the uniform. Also, to be a police officer lies in what one has incide, not outside. The appearance does not matter much. To serve the people, without making any distinction, with no distintinction, uh! By the people I mean from the richest to the poorest ones, the fattest, the thinnest, without distinctions of any kina, neither of faith or absolutely none. To serve the public totally. (ARG18) We perform all kinds of functions. We are the nexus between the judges, the decisions of the judges, and the citizenry, the common people. We are the first step that the people or the citizens have before the State, because all come to complain with us, all come to us requesting security. We are the show window, the first step of the state, and we are parents, we are psychologists, we are mediators. This is to say, we are part of everything. What happens is that we are not specific. We are here to deal with crime, we are for contraventions, we are for extractions, we are perhaps to mediate in a discussion in a police station, in a situation that perhaps does not amount to a crime. We are within everyones reach, I believe that it is. Everything that is needed to maintain order we do it, sometimes we reach a good end and sometimes we do not. (ARG4) We are poly-functional because we perform neat tasks of prevention. A police officer in the street, either in our society or elsewhere Many times the police are there not only for (the people) to see the patrol or prevention car. Any problem that a person may have, the police intervene. The police intervene, whether it is a relative or for whatever circumstances that you may think or for any problem in the house, with electricity, if the car broke or an accident occurred to a child Well, the police are very solidary in these aspects and perform tasks that many times escape the sphere the police sphere (ARG15). Id say that we develop, yes, a large series of activities, right? Because we are counsellors, we give advice, we mediate in conflicts, we try to solve conflicts, we are aux iliary of the justice system we have a large number of roles to perform within society. Then, we must have prepared and keep an open mind to know that we are going to see ourselves confronting a problem and that we must find the best solution for problems. The image that I see is that we are a bit of everything, moreover in the work at the police station, of the uniformed officer, of the police officer who is

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301Table5-3. Continued Themes Images in the street and is the referent that people see, that society sees. Because, I mean, besides we also have the investigative police officer, who has the specific role of attending and repressing crime. this police officer surely will not have to mediate in a family conflict, or in a question of living with others. Or a police officer who belongs to a specialized division that is already a force group, because he has to perform a different kind of tasks. But the most complete role that frames all police work, is the role of the uniformed police officer. And at least in our police is the task taht we think requires more sacrifice (UR6). The last choice Police work has changed, you know? When my Dad was a police officer , and now when I am a police officer Police work has changed drastically since that. Police work is not just about chasing the bad guys. If it was that, itd be fun. But it is not that anymore. Why is that? Is it because of what you were mentioning before, when you referred to social work? Right. Runaway kids, its a kids who are, you know, who are violence against their family, domestic violence, you know? between partners. And we are dealing with all kinds of partners: we are dealing with lesbian partners, bisexual partners, [Living?] partners, and then the traditional married partners, you know? You didnt have that in the sixties and the seventies, you know? And, that Oh yeah, it is all kinds of social issues you have to deal with you know? Then you have adopted children, you have children who are on medication, that are tearing up their families house, then you get a call: My child is tearing up my house. You go there, and there is this 10 year old, twelve year old, who is tearing up his parents house. What are you gonna do with it? Then you have Prozac So, you are becoming like a lot of things: a sociologist, a psychologist Like a counselor Absolutely. We are pastors, we are priests, we help people who call us seek divorce (US). Police are people who save lives, protect properties, enforce the law for peace and order. (PHIL4) Trust, Prudence, and Professionalism First of all, police officers, as the human beings we are and with a big ego as any other human being, we like to be the center in all matters. It seems to us that we are the most important ones and we attribute ourselves all of the roles that you mention plus other ones such as those we perform these days, right? But in fact, if I place myself for a moment outside the force and think as a member of civil society or to the police I want for my children and for other citizens, what I expect from a police officer is a reliable person. Next, I want this person to be respectful, prudent, and

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302Table 5-3. ContinuedThemes Images professional. Someone who knows what he has to do. Someone who knows from the most basic skills such as to write a traffic ticket to confront a highly risky situation with an arm. Someone who knows how to do it because he has the knowledge of how to do it, because he has the necessary technical skills but also the openness of mind and criterion to apply those concepts. I do not like Rambos (UR3)

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303 These images interpellate both police officers and citizens differently. They generate hierarchical relations of power such as the image of the priest and protection. Horizontal bonds and democratic practices arise from images of the police officer as a citizen, tropes of help, and the representation of the police as a public service. Shearing and Ericson (p. 494) liken the images and figures of speech conveyed through narratives to a paintbrush that highlights and underlines certain features of reality. Police officers use these images and analogies embedded in a poetic logic of tropes to introduce new members to the world of policing and teach him or her to see and highlight certain traits. These narrative elements create and illuminate worlds for us, which once brought to life persist. The visible and the invisible: Who watches whom? Intelligence and political policing are the harsh est and most problematic aspect of policing for a democracy. They constitute the most secretive places and the locales where authoritarian can most easily emerge. What types of narratives do the police use to legitimize secrecy? Stories of clear-cut good and evil, enmity, traitors, hatred, envy, reified national and class moral categories, contempt for publicity and democratic accountability shape these narratives. They defend the need for intelligence and political spying. What must a democracy do with these aspects of policing? Should spying and informers be preserved in a democracy?25 25 The subject of intelligence is certain ly complex. For a discussion on intelligence in democratic settings, see Bruneau.

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304 On the one hand, it is said that intelligence is needed to safeguard the population within a democratic state. The bombing of AMIA in Buenos Aires in 1994, the attack on the Twin Towers in New York in 2001, or the bombings of trains in Madrid in 2004 are all exhibited as terrorist attacks that could have been prevented through better intelligence. On the other hand, most methods used to do intelligence flagrantly violate fundamental civil liberties and human rights. Actually in police intelligence, you cannot trust just anybody. Thats why you must recruit your own agent or your own people … those who are loyal to you. So that you can give them all the freedom to do monitoring and surveillance work (PHIL4). Espionage, undercover operations, tapping peoples phone lines, infiltration of agents within organizations, the use of lies and the commission of crimes including murder are just a few classical techniques used to spy on and obtain information from others. No state has ever done intelligence without resorting to these practices. In turn, they lie at the antipodes of democratic principles, values, and practices. Democratic political policing is a contradiction in terms. Popular films such as the James Bond series present state intelligence and espionage as glamorous. Still, intelligence represents the undemocratic core of democratic states, which probably is going to be gone only together with the state form. The most that a democracy can do is to minimize the scope of these procedures and methods, and leave the population to decide how much of this they are able to tolerate. One of the interviewees argues for the possibility to reduce intelligence to its minimal expression, only to deal with highly sophisticated organized crime. For there is no need to spy on anyone to maintain order and prevent crime, he says. Those in charge of policing should instead resort to the

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305 statistical study of criminal patterns, which permits one to assign resources where they are more needed (ARG27). Software such as COMPSAT serves this function.26Should a democratic society be left completely vulnerable, then? How can be visibility achieved if not by spying on the people? This discussion involves the confrontation between different forms of visibility and the type of power that they promote. Censuses, statistics, maps, regulations, relocations, rules, and taxation examined by Scott, Benedict Anderson, and Mitchell were part of the original police mandate expressed by Von Justi. Visibility and legibility are needed to turn society governable, to intervene and implement policies and police. But the organization of space under the logic of the grid (Scott, 1998, p. 57) carries with it the categorization and hierarchic arrangement of space and beings. The unilateral visibility enjoyed by the state lies also behind state terror, as the Argentinean commissioner from the Northeast refers in his account of how the police supported the military. State policing poses us with ambiguities and dilemmas. The good and caring police officer who patrols the neighborhood on foot and knows, protects, and helps the neighbors, and the police officer that harasses, beats up, and tortures a suspect at the police station constitute the nice and the nightmare side of the same institution. What are the differences between them, what connects them, and what explains both these differences and the connection? Agamben (1995, 2005), Neocleous (2000), and Scott (1998) converge in suggesting that the state apparatus required by the progressive welfare 26 Compstat means Computer Statistics and was created by the New York City Police Department. It consists of a network of intelligence operating in real time. In the United States, the system is based on the entry of information of episodes of crime, calls for service, field interview reports, prisoner debriefings, incident reports, and FBI Uniform Crime Re porting (UCR) records, with UCR reports and calls for service constituting the two most common (Shane). The city of M ontevideo in Uruguay is using either Compsat or a similar system.

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306 state and the totalitarian state are eventually the same. The view that forces us to confront that, consciously or unconsciously, we all are in a position of being both passive and active subjects of police practices. Thus, visibility and legibility are powerful devices that need to be permanently controlled, therefore the need for their democratic administration by the citizenry, which, if does not guarantee but can certainly minimize abuse. Panoptical and Kantian forms of visibility differ on to the viewpoints that they assume. The visibility that Kant advocates is horizontal, results in publicity, and has the public as its ultimate judge. Panoptical, authoritarian, god-likeŽ (Scott) forms of visibility result instead from the dissociation between seeing and being seen (Foucault), and the monopoly of visibility by sovereign magistrates. A British police officer compares the 60s with the end of the 1990s along these different viewpoints: Nobody questioned what you did and what you didnt. You didnt have the right to question him. You didnt have to compile reports about and justify your decisions and so on. (ƒ) Every type of authority throughout the country must have been very similar. I mean who would have questioned the intelligence services in those days? Who would raise a question in parliament? (ƒ)This is what Im saying is that were more transparent but the fact that were more transparent means its like looking at this from one point like looking at this perfect Chippendale thats on stage so you look the perfect Dixon of Dock Green but then when you start peeling back the Chippendale you find that hes stuffed up with steroids and drugs and its all an artificial perception and the fact that he prances on a stage he cant run a hundred meters because all the muscles get in the way. You suddenly realise that this thing is not as healthy as it first looked. So when you look at the Dixon and Dock Green, this wonderful steady guy who actually couldnt run either? (ƒ)When you become transparent in terms you invite the media in, holes in the walls. I mean theyre almost daring now. If you watch Sky, cops there must be cameras everywhere in every station. Theres reports on everything. Theres research done, always research done on us, people accountability and so on and everywhere. You know it must, I mean theres nobody in their right mind would refuse anybody a media access to a solicitors because it would contaminate the case immediately. PACE and the levels of accountability are reviewed, lay visitors. Were so transparent that the fact that its transparent people get more and more looking at the body and can see its flaws. And youre always having to justify your decisions. You know things like under scores evidence and information and theres the new humanities department. (ƒ) So it ups the accountability more and more (UK20).

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307 Both social opaqueness and transparency generate power. They both involve risks. A democratic society is one where the population has information on alternatives and chooses between them. From all dimensions involved in policing, intelligence and political policing seem the ones that most resist democratization. They are based upon distrust, lies, spying, and the permanent violation of privacy and human rights, all of which undermine democracy. Can we still democratize intelligence? How could that be possible, for democracy assumes publicity whereas intelligence is based upon secrecy? Among the narratives that I collected, the most insightful ones on this subject seem to me those that foster the elimination of traditional police methods to carry intelligence. Instead, they promote the use of informatics to connect all police stations (and perhaps also other locations) and to maintain databases that are updated in real time. If a crime is committed in any point of the city, the whole network becomes alerted. A system like this was already in use in Montevideo in 2003. In a democratic society, the information required to maintain order must be accessible to everyone, as it must also be collected without undermining trust or individual rights. Transparency can be harmless only if it is reciprocal. Police procedures in a democratic society should be drawn along these lines. DemocracyÂ’s Success Stories : Police VoicesÂ’ Critical Moments Tropes of citizenship, the importance of the law, the need to place limits on power, the value of negotiation, the emphasis on solving problems and conflicts lie in the antipodes of narratives that assimilate policing to war. What all these references have in common is that they legitimize egalitarian and horizontal relations of power. The content of images like these may vary. Yet what appears as a universal requisite for narratives that promotes democratic forms of power is the presence of both inclusiveness and reflexive speech (Warren, Hansen). For there can be no democracy with exclusion nor

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308 self-government without self-regulation, responsibility, and reflection. Still, all of them can only thrive with the support of cordial manners and sympathy. Far from this being an emotional appeal, it seeks to identify the complex basis for democratic engagement and participation. Burch writes about the classical, now lost, association between eros and democracy. She agrees with Horkheimer and Adorno that If fear and destructiveness are the major emotional sources of fascism, eros belongs mainly to democracy.Ž In On the Shores of Politics , Rancière (1995) identifies the concern of Parisian workers during the 19th century with appearance and good manners as signs of equality and dignity. The moment of eruption of the political in the city that Rancière assimilates to democracy coincides with a claim for recognition, for the habilitation of ones own voice as one of a citizen. Courtesy is not only about manners, but also entails recognition of the other as a fellow citizen. And the dialogue between fellows cannot prosper without attention and respect. The following are just some glances to reflexive moments that open up for rethinking of the definition of policing in a democratic society. In a democratic society, police schools, democratic institutions, the media, should all promote these processes. It is clear that they mostly do not, so is their distance to becoming democratic. A comparison with the Catholic Church serves this British policeman to pose the need to revising the past: Take in a matter of only sense, if you look at the Catholic Church twenty years ago, wed never have admit that child abuse was ever perpetrated by them for instance. Never, never, never would they. I mean these were men of God who you know, evil could not get in to them. But how long has it been knocking on that door to warn them youve got paedophiles among you. Theyve had to change their lives havent they. Theyve had to. Force to. So were in the same situation (UK20).

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309 Let us contrast the following account by an Argentinean commissioner from the South against the story that proudly justified police inte rvention in state terror. Already in the police in 1976, this commissioner tells a different story: Through time, if we jump from 1976 to 1983, the army withdrew, withdrew. Then, after it withdrew, in fact there are two well delimited societies in Argentina: on the one hand, the civil society, and on the other hand the military. There was a third component, the police. They said: Well, we are with the military (milicosŽ), so we are going to join the military society. But for the military we are not military. We are just a parody of the military, who wear uniforms and have a hierarchy, who say Yes, Sir,Ž but we are not the military. Indeed, we are civilians, we are on the side of the people. Then, we said Let us go with the civil society.Ž But when we went with the civil society, we were told: No. What are you coming here for, if you wear military boots?Ž We did not ƒ we were between the sword and the wall, literally, and with this Damocles sword that really nobody wants us, neither Tyrians nor Trojans. Because the police were used as a part of El ProcesoŽ (ARG22). The latter story overlaps with those that were collected in Uruguay. Recognition of institutional complicities with the military dictato rship and the political, anti-democratic right, constitutes a first step to re-examine police identities and roles in the Southern Cone. Asked for the reasons why no sector within the police disobeyed the military, the same interviewee says No. It would have been a civil war,Ž because, he says, What happens is that already before 1976 there was some kind of subordination to the power of the military. Soldiers were seen as police officers older brothers. The police officer was some kind of a younger brother. Thus, this was prepared to avoid any kind of mutiny (ARG22). But a focus on the still open wounds of 1976 leads Argentineans sometimes to dismiss current problems and dangers. As it was mentioned in the introduction, the number of individuals killed by members of the security forces in the last twenty years of democratic life round the thousand. This younger officer below focuses on the need of democratizing the police and questions the lack of seriousness with which attempts of

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310 reform have been carried out. The bitter outcome, he judges, is that precious opportunities have been lost: Here there was an opportunity to introduce a big change, and they wasted it. The first time, I think that in 1983 everything was given to change the scheme completely, and they let it go. Then, when the authority of Dr. Arslanián was questioned, they let it go again (ARG27). Also young, this other officer rejects the secular role of the modern police as a tool of containment of the poor. He sees policing instead as a set of practices of prevention and resolution of conflicts and the provision of safety to the people. He engages with experiences of neighborhood fora where people discuss problems and strategies with the police. He is aware and concerned with dramatic rise of unemployment and poverty in Argentina. He does not want to criminalize the poor but go after those who caused the collapse of the country. But he realizes that it is not within his reach: Criminals, the big criminals, we never go after these criminals, who are the political criminals, right? We are never going to go after them. Why? Because, I dont know why not, indeed. Because our function lies in the social with the people, not with ƒ besides, if we touch the legal aspects, we cannot investigate them. Why not? Because our own law prevents us from doing so (ARG15). This British officer also rejects being used as a tool of repression and criminalization of the poor. As other British police officers, he rejects the participation of the police in repressing miners legitimate claims for their jobs during Margaret Thatchers era. It was just a pity and sad that, again you see basically working class policemen facing working class men who in any other situation we would have had a good relationship with (UK20). Self-reflection, good manners, sympathy, consideration for the other, respect, and cordiality promote horizontal and egalitarian relations of power. This British officer exhibits the tradition of unarmed police officers and cordiality with pride: I dont know if anyone has mentioned to you, it took me years to spot it. I started travelling abroad quite a lot to America and to Europe, professionally and

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311 recognised inevitable, people if they know you are a policeman want to talk to you about policing and they immediately come up with their last example of when they had dealings with the police, usually cars, but it could be a burglary or anything else. Anywhere else in the world, they would never mention the attitude of the police officer, they would tell you what happened, but they would never bring you his attitude to them. This country, and once you notice it, it becomes quite obvious, almost 20 seconds of the story being told, and course stories are told repetitively, they will inject the attitudes of the police officer. So the story goes I was driving down the M6 the other day and I got stopped by this traffic car, he was very nice, or not as the case may be, and then the story goes on. They bring up front the attitude of the police officer in the conversation as an integral part of the transaction. It took me years to see that this was unique to this country, its a fact which no other country that I know of or have experience of, even registered. The police will deal with you the way the police always deal with you in country X, Y or Z, which is normally pretty authoritative. This country is very important that you felt you had been dealt with in a courteous, sympathetic way I have not seen any where else in the world (UK57). The officer explains the courtesy of the British police as Peels original strategy to make it acceptable to the people in England and Wales. According to him, Peel made a working class organisation very much servants of the public which from the earliest days has served all citizens equally, without discriminating between them. As he puts it, the British police have been from its origins servants of everyone, not just the upper classes which would have been the phrase used (UK57). Beyond mythical connotations on the inexistence of class distinctions, courtesy and cordiality are important conditions to democratic politics. Cordiality accounts for one of the differences between citizen encounters with the Uruguayan and Argentinean police. Whereas the former exhibit their good relations with their fellow citizens with pride, suspicion, secrecy, and mistreatment still characterize most responses from the police in Argentina.27 No dialogue can prosper in the latter conditions. 27 These observations are based on my own experience in Argentina and Uruguay as well as on opinion polls on trust in both countries (see Appendix). My encounters with police officers in Montevideo were respectful, relaxed, and cordial. With the exception of two, seemingly undercov er members of the police, who stopped me and asked me ques tions in an unfriendly manner while I was inside the police headquarters

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312 This section has illustrated the kind of police narratives that are needed in a democracy. The police officers express here concerns, doubts, responsibilities, and remorse. They show ability to judging themselves and their institutions. They refer to what makes them feel proud of being police officers and what embarrasses them, such as repressing workers who were protesting for the closing of their sources of work (UK20). These passages exemplify what I characterized as democratic narratives|. These officers show themselves able to handle uncertainty, they appear reflexive, they recognize others, they criticize authoritarian aspects of their own institution, and they promote responsibility and openness. They also concerned and embarrassed for the tradition of violence and corruption shown by their institutions. Of course, these traits do not amount to say that these officers practice policing democratically. But it constitutes a good start. Preliminary Findings What do these narratives and stories as told by these police officers reveal about more democratic or authoritarian policing styles in different countries? What do they allow us to predict about police uses of discretionary power? The present study argues that narratives shape police practices, especially their use of discretionary power. Table 5-1 and 5-2 identify elements that make narratives more authoritarian or democratic. Previous sections presented chosen quotes drawn from the interviews and discussed their meaning in the context of both police and national traditions. These quotes were, likewise, more authoritarian or democratic. Now let us see what democratic or looking for an office. Mean while, in Argentina, conve rsing with a police officer was similar to talking with a fellow citizen only in a couple of oppo rtunities. The rest of the times there was tension and suspicion. No dialogue can prosper in these conditions.

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313 authoritarian elements predominate among police officers according to their national origins. How do police narratives respectively resemble and differ across new and established democracies? The preliminary analysis of tropes and narratives drawn from interviews with Argentinean, Uruguayan, Filipino, American, and British police officers allows for various interpretations. According to which aspect of the findings is emphasized, the data provide support to different, even competing, hypotheses. The main possible interpretations respectively emphasize the preeminence of national culture, experience, and institutions in shaping police perspectives (L. Anderson, 2002; Stanley, 2002). The other highlights the role of transnational, global networks. It highlights that police styles are transmitted through literature, training, consultancies, and the popular media throughout the world. Schneider and Amar (2003) theorize on the global diffusion of authoritarian policing networks. It seems to me that their argument also serves to explain the ways in which democratic forms of policing are transmitted. Judged for the content and modalities embedded in narratives, I find Uruguayan police officers the closest to a democratic ide al. Next, I must place the British, with the Argentinean police far behind them. In turn, Filipino police officers seem to be the least democratic. Are police forces determined by national cultural patterns? What features seem distinctive of Uruguayan, Argentinean, Filipino, and British police officers? Can we trace a correspondence between these narratives, traditions of policing, and the experience with democracy in each country? Apparently so. The set of interviews with British, Argentinean, Uruguayan, and Filipino police officers present some distinctive traits that might be related to national background. But links between narratives and

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314 practices may not be as straightforward as to define precise national patterns. For narratives also circulate transnationally. This section presents preliminary findings on similarities and differences between these groups. It then discusses alternative interpretations in light of the literature . After assessing these alternatives, I advance suggestions on how to interpret the data. First, let us see how these narratives differ across countries. The self-identification of police officers as citizens seems distinctive of Uruguayans. Their recurrent allusions to mistakes and responsibility for having obeyed the military during the 1970s illustrates so. A focus on problems instead of people, on prevention instead of punishment, characterizes the stories that I collected in Uruguay. It is remarkable the cordiality and good manners of my Uruguayan interviewees and their willingness to engage in selfreflection and self-criticism. These traits ease engaging in a dialogue with them. Dialoguing with these Uruguayan police officers was basically not different from conversing with any other citizen. Nevertheless, authoritarian prone elements are also present in their narratives. For example, even though poverty lies behind a permanent flow of migrant Uruguayan workers and undermines the political equality required by democracy, Uruguayan policemen tend to represent socioeconomic inequality and poverty as natural. Despite these references, democratic traits outnumber authoritarian ones in the narratives of Uruguayan police officers and make them stand out, at least among the countries included in my study. Uruguayans and Argentineans are normally almost impossible to distinguish. Our Spanish is almost the same, and we have very similar cultural traditions. A deep attachment to democratic procedures, however, is not one of the traditions we share.

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315 Uruguayans exhibit a stronger relationship toward democracy and a healthier civic culture. Democracy, citizenship, dialogue, and tolerance are embedded in Uruguayan representations of nationhood. The narratives embodied by police officers make this contrast clear. Apparent suspicion in their manners, distrust of judges and resentment toward their power characterize stories told by Argentinean police officers. In contrast to Uruguayans, Argentine police officers tend not to question their own responsibility. Rather, they tend to depict themselves as victims, as individuals who continuously risk their lives to protect the people despite peoples ingratitude. Most police officers deny their complicity with the military dictatorship. Most references to the period 1976-1983 are purposely unclear or elided. More or less explicitly they justify authoritarian and violent practices during that period, which stories frequently liken to the current challenge of coping with a rise in crime. The characterization of policing as a battle people/criminalsŽ pervades most interviews held in Argentina. British narratives are unique in their ref erences to the challenge of maintaining order without using guns, but through the use of their authority only. Self-reflection and self-criticism, as both individuals and as members of the police, characterizes the narratives of British police officers. They exam ine themselves in relation to changes in national and local police policy occurred in the last decades. Different accounts permit them to trace the number of changes in policing that have taken place throughout the United Kingdom. They are critical toward the rigid Victorian morality and the traces of authoritarianism still embedded in the police organization. Concerns with their constituencies, the people, frequently appear in these narratives, as well as references to the police difficulty to address the needs of women, children, and ethnic minorities.

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316 These narratives are mostly framed in a democratic fashion and express deep democratic commitments. These officers do not put the legitimacy of democracy in question. Their allusions to democracy mostly arise from concerns to find democratic solutions to the problems that appear in long-lasting democratic settings. Discussions of how to serve diverse populations and a defense of local forms of democracy as a reassurance of democratic politics seem also distinctive of these narratives. The assimilation between the community and the police is recurrent in narratives of Filipino police officers. Yet their allusions do not seem to run in direction to redefine the police as a group of citizens, but to suggest that the community should actively collaborate with the police. The people are frequently alluded to in the figure of the community. But the Filipino people are not presented as an autonomous, self-organized, people. In these narratives, the people are seen as potential informers and helpers of police work. Decades of militarization of the police in the Philippines can be traced in these narratives, especially in their references to authority and the dynamics of the police organization. Filipino interviewees do not refer to their nations democratic institutions. Interpretations that stress the weight of the national settings in the definition of the culture of the police draw on historical, unique collective experiences, cleavages, and historical paths that define modern nations. Stanley explains the dominant cultural patterns among the Argentinean police with regards to the culture of the elites. Leslie Anderson (2002) highlights national traditions of tolerating violence as a legitimate way of conflict resolution. Laura Kalmanowiecki (2000) emphasizes on historical patterns of institutional development that give Argentinean police forces an excessive autonomy and a tradition of political policing.

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317 But resemblances between these narratives appear as remarkable as their differences. Perspectives examined in chapter 6, such as managerialism, liberal narratives that present the police as an auxiliary tool of the judiciary, stories of community policing and problem-oriented policing, representations of policing as a governing practice, emphases on the link between policing and citizenship, and distrust of the military, appear in interviews collected in all these different countries. With the exception of the Uruguayan interviewees, war on crime narratives are also present among Argentinean, Filipino, British, and American police officers. This and other forms of authoritarian policing can be recognized across countries and expand globally. As do images of policing inspired in Serpicoes and Ramboes. Ultimately, the legitimization of state domination and naturalized hierarchies of class and power pervade all these narratives. What varies across these cases is the relative weight of each of those frameworks, the ways in which they appear combined, and their articulation with local elements. These common features of police narratives collected in different countries give support to two alternative explanations: on the one hand, to classical works on police culture that underline the importance of common working conditions for the emergence of a cop culture (Westley, 1953; Brown, 1981; Manning, 1977; Chan, 1996). On the other hand, these findings give support to the hypothesis inspired by Schneider and Amar (2003) that patterns of policing circulate globally.28No doubt, similarities between police narratives across countries also indicate their exposure to different doctrines and training styles. But the same concepts and doctrines 28 This idea of global networks of policing refers to ve ry concrete arrangements. Loc Wacquants (2000) reconstruction of circuits of international consultancies permit to trace the diffusion of styles of policing such as William Brattons broken windows. Martha Huggins study of the diffusion of political policing throughout the Americas si nce the Cold War years also gives supp ort to the international hypothesis.

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318 appear resignified by national traditions and tropes. For example, whereas managerialism is depicted as neoconservative in the UK, it acquires more democratic connotations in Uruguay thanks to an emphasis on the idea of policing as a public service. Which explanations are better, the national cultureŽ or the global networksŽ ones? Analyses that place the emphasis on national culture cannot account satisfactorily for the similarities that traverse all these narratives. In turn, an excessive emphasis on the global character of narratives misses idiosyncratic narratives on policing. National contexts are decisive for they result from the types of narratives that are authorized by the state. But so are all other realms, local or global, that have the capacity to authorize and discourage the circulation of narratives. This is why, for example, many attempts of democratic police reform fail at the grassroots level, for democratizing narratives do not find fertile ground at the grassroots level. In sum, what I found is a set of like narratives combined nationally in different proportions and glued together by idiosyncratic stories and tropes. As a result, I see that an analysis framed in terms of narratives permits us to integrate the findings of both those who emphasize on the relevance of national traditions and those who pay attention to the importance of global networks. This solution avoids the reification of culture into the forced boundaries of nations, as well as a type of generalization that misses unique local experiences with policing and democracy. For narratives on policing have both universal and local reach. Concluding Remarks: How Can Narratives Help Us Democratize Uses of Police Discretion? In this chapter, I have shown some ways in which narratives influence police officers worldviews and uses of discretionary power. The chapter advanced my main

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319 argument about the decisive role of stories in shaping policing as authoritarian or democratic. I began with introducing conceptual frameworks that highlight the relevance of stories and images in the constitution of individual character. The second section examined the role that stories play in moral and political judgment. It accounted for the influence of fictional stories, and showed the proximity between reality and fiction. It also presented empirical findings (Terrill, Pauline, and Manning, 2003) that suggest a causal relationship between cultural forms of representing policing and society and use of violence by the police. While the authors approach police culture as defined by a set of values, my approach interpret their findings in ter ms of the mores that are transmitted by images, tropes, and stories. In the third section, I introduced and justified my strategy of categorizing stories and figures of speech as authoritarian or democratic in the present study. The categories were drawn from both theoretical sources and the analysis of narratives on policing. Section 4 introduced and examined narrative elements and figures that appear in police officers references to power. I argued that these images organize their exercise of police discretion. The section ended by identifying successŽ stories that foster more democratic practices of policing. Finally, section 5 discussed preliminary findings. What does this itinerary suggest on our prospects for democratizing policing? The analysis of stories and images suggests the existence of a link between the ways in which police officers see reality and the ways in which they judge, decide, and act. Images and stories are especially influential with respect to discretionary power. Discretion arises in the realm of the unwritten that accompanies the written law. Excess of good and evil and regulations that the lawmaker forgot to include but that are

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320 necessary for the application of the law make laws remain unwritten, says Aristotle (Rhetoric, 1374a). Elaborating on this image in, I have suggested that, in the form of tropes, unwritten principles nurture the discretionary judgment of those in charge of adjusting the law to particular circumstances. It is my contention that those principles ar e transmitted through narratives and that they influence ones own relation to the law. This chapter showed how narratives provide the raw materials for the exercise of discretionary judgment. Stories provide us with explanations that appear plausible and make others appear absurd. This selection is organized by tropes and stories. The narrative frameworks within which we are immersed, namely the tropes of common senseŽ of a culture, make us judge some conjectures more sound than others. If authoritarian narratives lead those in charge of administering the law to dismiss it, the law will be left powerless. Naturally, the political regime will continue to be authoritarian in spite of its formal democratic character. The democratization of policing requires putting in circulation police stories that promote forms of judgment, decision, and action other than those conventionally described by the literature on police culture.Ž To use discretion democratically is to interpre t the interstices of the law in an inclusive manner. It is treating the fore ign visitor as a citizen instead of treating the citizen as an alien. It is to treat the suspect as innocent until his or her charges are proven instead of treating innocents as suspects without proof. It is to focus on problems instead of focusing on individuals. Stories knit the differences between these alternatives. The definition of others as non (equally) human lies behind racism, slavery, serfdom, ethnocides, state terror, terrorism, and other forms of violence targeting a sector of the

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321 population. Dehumanizing narratives constitute a necessary correlate of dehumanizing social mechanisms and policies. In the antipodes, an egalitarian belief in a shared humanityŽ (Monroe, Smith) constitutes a fundamental element present in stories that inform democratic practices. The task ahead involves both practices and stories, articulated around humanization and inclusiveness.

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322 CHAPTER 6 POLICE DISCRETION, A CHALLENGE FOR DEMOCRATIZATION Our laws are not generally known; they are kept secret by the small group of nobles who rule us. We are convinced that these ancient laws are scrupulously administered; nevertheless it is an extremely painful thing to be ruled by laws that one does not know. Franz Kafka, The Problem with our Laws. In one of his tales, Franz Kafka portrays an imaginary kingdom where rulers keep laws unknown to the people. Illuminating the pain conveyed by Kafkas character, Walter Benjamin makes a distinction between the foreseeable punishment that accompanies the disobedience of the law, and the harsh, unpredictable, and generally violent retribution that comes about for transgressing secret or unwritten rules that are unknown to us. For each intervention of law that is provoked by an offense against the unwritten and unknown law is called retribution (in contradiction to punishment) (p. 249). Despite the centrality recognized to the rule of law in present-day democracies, images drawn from the Kafkian tale haunt us in the figure of the police. Citizen encounters with the police open a territory of unpredictability between punishment and retribution. They also blur the distinction between written and secret laws, normalcy and exception, where the dilemmas and pain of lawlessness eventually come true. To the eyes of the public, the logic of police intervention appears opaque, and its occurrences and formsi.e. advice, admonition, arrest resulting in criminal charges or deatherratic. What lies behind this uncertainty is police discretion. As we have seen in the previous chapter, the stories and narratives that police officers tell themselves cover a wide range of topics and come from a multitude of

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323 different angles. Each of these angles encompasses an element of discretionary judgment. For each type of situation, a story can be told that translates into more democratic or authoritarian practices. My study argues that a key aspect defining practices as authoritarian or democratic arises from discretionary decisions, which are in turn shaped by narratives and tropes. Whereas stories defined the subject of the previous chapter, this chapter focuses on discretion. This chapter seeks to place police discretion within the coordinates of governance, which seems to me necessary to assess the prospects for its democratization. Both theoretical and practical elements converge in the concept of discretion. Police discretion unveils the bond between insignificant daily activity of state and police routine and the political and ontological core that sustains social order. Thus, this chapter argues that the actions involved in the exercise of police discretion are the same ones entailed by the exercise of sovereign power, and both require the exercise of practical judgment. A former police officer and a student of discretion, Gregory Howard Williams calls for the need to develop the political theory of the police as an administrative agencyŽ (p. 14). Accordingly, this chapter draws the connection between everyday practices and core concepts of Western political theory and proposes to assimilate discretion to sovereign power and the exercise of practical and moral judgment that is involved in government. If this interpretation seems plausible, then the activities involved in the exercise of discretion are sovereign activities and the kind of discretionary judgment that is at stake in policing is the same kind of judgment that is necessary to govern. By identifying correspondences between police discretion, practical judgment, and sovereign power, the argument draws the common structure of government to which they belong. The common

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324 ground between policing and government shows why no political regime can be truly democratic unless policing is also reorganized along democratic lines.1 Seen in this light, discretion defines the core of the power involved in policing, and practices of policing expose in turn the core of state power. This chapter explores the roots of discretion within the structure of state power and draws theoretical and practical consequences regarding its democratic performance. In part, the argument draws on the association between the police and sovereign power discussed in chapter 3. The argument generally follows Giorgio Agambens insights on police power (1991, 1995) as a form of sovereign power that reopens the state of exception and thus undermines the law that it is supposedly destined to protect. Paradoxically, this exercise seems to constitute a necessary moment in the realization of the law. My study argues that, as democratically oriented as laws may be, a key aspect defining practices as authoritarian or democratic arises from discretionary decisions. Discretionary judgment occurs in the interstices of the law, that is at once outside and inside the law, for it is frequently required by the application of the law but is not clearly drawn from it. How can the law influence the exercise of discretion among the police, when its application relies on their discretionary judgment? How should the law be enforced on the enforcers? The good city is one in whichƒthe citizen is won over by a story rather than restrained by law,Ž says Rancière (1995, p. 68). My study suggests that the law can shape the exercise of discretion mostly through the habits and narratives that lead us to embody 1 The effects of discretionary power on the re production of state violence transcend the police. Christian Davenport identifies a positiv e cross-country correlation between state repression and murder by the state and executive discretion.Ž His findings lead him to conclude that if one were interested in reducing both restrictions and killing they could begin with the reduction in execu tive discretionŽ (p. 556).

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325 its principles. The study of habits, however, requires wide access to police institutions. Considering my limited access to the police universe, mostly through interviews with police officers, my study draws on narratives. On this, I elaborate on both Aristotelian and Ciceronian insights on the law as promoting good habits as well as on the classical, Ciceronian idea on the potential of rhetoric to transmit ethical principles.2While the argument draws on the association between the police and sovereign power discussed in chapter 3, it also elaborates on classical notions such as phron sis and prudentia , virtues that after Aristotle and Cicero were deemed necessary to govern. I argue that both the classical and the postmodern traditions of phron sis are suited to illuminate theoretically and improve practica lly the exercise of the discretionary judgment involved in policing. In turn, the literature on semiotics provides a framework to revisit critically ideology as it crystallizes in reified judgments and prejudices. My study, and this chapter within it, is primarily concerned with the social and political conditions of the exercise of discretionary power and with how stories contribute to shape, legitimize, and reproduce them. Therefore, my interest in phron sis and practical judgment aims to how they inform practices of governance, to which I assimilate practices of policing. The argument thus elaborates on Aristotelian insights to conceive of the need for phron tic skills in the administration of the law and the maintenance of order in the polity. It draws on the Roman insights on the potential of rhetorical structures to transmit prudentia l patterns. It revisits both classical references along their contemporary critique. After exploring the ways in which narratives inform 2 Abizadeh argues that this insight on the ethical possibilities embedded in rhetoric is already present in Aristotle.

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326 judgment, the argument reaffirms the value of stories for the exercise of power in a democratic manner. Previously marginalized, the subject of practical judgment is experiencing a revival (Cape, 2003, p. 35, Dunne, 1993; Flyvbjerg, 1993; Schmidt, 1995; Thiele, 2005) as it seems to provide us with valuable insight regarding the puzzles involved in practices of governance. References to both sovereign power and practical judgment in this chapter seek to place police discretion within the coordinates of (democratic) governance. If police discretion may be assimilated to an exercise of sovereign power, as I argue, then the insights on wise governance gathered through centuries by the classical literature on phron sis can be extended to the exercise of discretionary power. Similarly, in this chapter, I propose to approach police discretion as a case of practical judgment. Considering the vast scope of the problem of judgment, it seems necessary to introduce a caveat: The Kantian problems of how we should conceive of judgment and where should we place this faculty in the analysis of mental activitiesŽ (Arendt, 1978, p. 3) have no place in this discussion.3 The argument does not engage with the faculty of 3 In the history of Western philos ophy, Kant stands out for his discov ery of the minds cognitive faculties and their limitations (in 1770)Ž (Are ndt 1978 255). Arendt credits Kant also with the discovery of the faculty of judgment (1978 255, 1982 10). In the Critique of Pure Reason Kant identifies the preeminence of judgment, which he draws from matters of taste, among the human faculties. However, it is only in the third Critique, or Critique of Judgment , where he thoroughly examines it. Whereas the faculty of judgment deals with particularsŽ (Are ndt 1982 13), Kants analysis focuses on the faculty as such and judgment of the particulars ƒ has no place in Kants moral philosophyŽ (p. 15). Irmgard Scherer notices that both the Critique of Pure Reason and the Critique of Practical Reason contain ambiguities and conceptual difficulties concerning the nature, place, and especially application of this crucial mental abilityŽ (p. 1). In the final Critique, devoted to aesthetic judgment, Kant theorizes about the significan ce of judgment as the weaker yet indispensable link among all cognitive powers.Ž Kants effort, however, departs radically from the phron tic or prudential tradition that sought to inform practical judgment for centuries. Instead, the philosopher attempts to id entify the faculties of the mi nd, understanding, judg ment, and reasonŽ (p. 31), their principles, and the relations betwee n them. Kant discovers an a priori principle of taste, teleology or purposiveness (Zweckmässigkeit)Ž which he finds gu iding the exercise of the faculty of judgment in all realms of conscious discernments„cognitive, moral, and aestheticŽ (Scherer, p. 1 62). His treatment of judgment sought to transcend empirical analysis of taste and to embrace a philosophy of the aesthetic as a domain of human experience, equal in dignity to the theoretical-co gnitive and the practical-moral of his first two CritiquesŽ (Scherer, p. 160). While judgment appears as a weaker faculty than reason, for

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327 judgment, nor does it address the psychology of judging.4 It is instead the practical forms of discretionary judgment involved in the exercise of police discretion that define my focus. Because of their practical concerns, both classical and contemporary, postmodern, discussions of phron sis and practical judgment appear especially suited to illuminate the puzzles that arise from the exercise of (police) discretion conceived as practices of governance. My study is primarily concerned with the cultural and political conditions for the exercise of discretionary power and with how stories contribute to shape, legitimize, and reproduce them. It is not the exercise of judgment per se but the social conditions for its exercise„defined by the law and influenced by cultural forms of perceiving social reality„that define my interest in this chapter. This chapter is organized as follows: The fi rst section describes the pervasiveness of discretion in administrative and police bodies as a main factor undermining democracy. In a dialogue with the literature, the argument highlights the ambiguities embedded in discretionary power and the need to democratize its exercise. The second section assesses main strategies developed to cope with police discretion. It discusses the core doctrines that lie behind current forms of police training. I question both the possibility of eliminating discretion as well as prevailing mechanic and reductionist forms of training those in charge of policing. Retrieving the discussion of the rule of law example, its exercise gives balance to the whole structure of the mind, for judgment may is capable of balancing antithetic truthsŽ (p. 31). 4 The focus on judgment as a faculty of the mind inaugurated by Kant seems to have inspired not only a philosophical but also an applied, scientific, tradition arising from the field of psychology. From the work of Lawrence Kohlberg and his identification of evolutionary patterns of moral judgment to recent cognitive research, a considerable effort has developed to both characterize and to map the exercise of this faculty. While these strands tend to develop separately, recent works suggest a trend to recuperate both traditions (Thiele, p. 2005). As Ronald Beiner puts it, reflective judgment is not restricted to the Kantian domain of judgments of taste (nor it is restricted, as Arendt woul d have it, to the historians task of retrospectively conferring meaning on what actors do)Ž (B einer 2001, p. 99).

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328 presented in chapter 1, I argue for reintegrating the need for discretion into the concept of law. The third section places police discretion within the theoretical coordinates of sovereign power and practical judgment. On the one hand, it examines the discretionary power involved in policing along the theoretical lines discussed in chapter 3 and argues that it is discretionary judgment that characterizes the exercise of what political philosophers account for as sovereign power. On the other hand, it examines discretion as the practical judgment that necessarily accompanies the living law that results from both the Aristotelian discussion of the law and of recent studies of discretion. Such exercise, I argue, seems best illuminated by the Aristotelian notions of equity (discussed in chapter 1) and phron sis that is addressed in this chapter. If this is the case, then the challenge for us is to foster the development of phron tic skills among those charged with discretionary power. Revisiting Ciceros insight on the possibilities of rhetoric to transmit virtue seems suited to account for the influence of narratives and tropes in the exercise of discretionary judgment.5 In turn, semioticians help us to understand how social representations and reified forms of perceptive judgment ground prejudices. Abduction, the logical form theorized by Charles Sanders Peirce, provides a framework to assess the form in which narratives inform moral and political judgment. These different traditions may offer insight on how to practice democratic governance. Their contribution seems to me adequate to gain a critical perspective on a societys common sense to the extent that this may become an obstacle for the exercise of phron tic skills. The chapter ends with an 5 Arendt, however, seems to question this classical insight that vi rtue could be taught and learnedŽ (1978, p. 5).

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329 assessment of the strategies available to cope with police discretion in a democratic fashion. Police Discretion as a Challenge for Democracy The Structure of Discretion Discretion goes with the person,Ž argues one of the Argentinean police officers quoted in the previous chapter. In case that an individual insults a police officer, he says, some are going to beat him up to death, to injure him, and there are others that will notŽ (ARG4). He implies that some police officers will be abusive, violent, and cruel, and others understanding and sympathetic. He assumes that police officers have the power to treat people either way. How is it possible that a police officer will have such a wide range of choices to deal with a simple situation? It is apparent that there is something wrong with this description. But as outrageous as this officers account may look, its depiction of police power seems realistic. The rationale expressed by the police officer mentioned above lies behind episodes of police brutality and violence across countries. It demarcates the scope of police discretion. Discretion designates power or freedom to judge and decide what needs to be done in a particular situation. Applied to public organizations, discretion defines the space that mediates between the law on the books and [the] law in actionŽ (Aaronson et al. ., p. viii, 5), a gap which public officers constantly close with their discretionary judgmentsŽ and decisions (Lipsky, 1980). With its universal reach, the law can anticipate situations only generally, while specific circumstances require the elucidation of the principles that apply, which in different degrees calls for discretionary judgment. Discretion characterizes executive power and finds one of its clearest expressions in presidential decrees. But whereas the elective character of presidents makes their discretion

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330 legitimate, the bulk of discretionary decisions affecting people's lives remains hidden from the public and is made by non-elected administrative bodies. Discretion pervades the activity of government and the implementation of the law. The discretionary judgment and decisions of administrative officials, such as police officers, directly affect our lives. In the literature, references to discretion generally evoke latitude and opaqueness in the interpretation of rules, the use of power, and the choice of forms of intervention. But the etymology of the word also denotes wisdom, tact, and good taste in the exercise of power. Appreciation, discernment, judgment, liberty, perceptiveness, power, sagacity, taste, and wisdom, are also synonyms of discretion.6 But the positive meaning of the word has been mostly lost, as discretion appears, in Bonnie Honigs words, as the arbitrary, capricious rule of man taking the place of the rule of lawŽ (p. 4). Despite the regulation of administrative acts by laws and rules, opportunities for discretion arise from those aspects of the decision process [that] are unspecified or contingent or circumstances and thus up to the judgment of the individual,Ž says Michael Brown (p. 25). Margins of discretion vary from policy to policy. In some cases, the daily and minute discretionary decisions of administrators transform the spirit of the laws into something very different from what legislators sought with their promulgation. This is why Brown credits administrators instead of parliaments, cabinets, prime ministers, or presidents as 6 Discretion:  1: the quality of being discreet : CIRCUMSPECTION ; especially : cautious reserve in speech 2: ability to make responsible decisions 3 a: individual choice or judgment b: power of free decision or latitude of choice within certain legal bounds 4: the result of separating or distinguishing.Ž Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary . /cgi-bin/dictionary?book=D ictionary&va=discretion&x=15&y=13

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331 the true politicians of our age (p. xiv). Discretion is ubiquitous in the daily encounters between citizens and the state. Far from being limited to the top management, discretionary decisions infuse state organizations. Empirical studies expose a network of microscopic interventions governing us day after day that puts Webers hierarchical understanding of bureaucracies into question. In fact, the decisions that have the major consequences over individuals lives are those of officials placed at the bottom and not at the top of the organizations. Coined by Michael Lipsky (1980, pp. 27-8), the term street level bureaucrats refers to these non-elected state officials with whom citizens treat directly on a daily basis and who decide on the distribution of goods, services, and benefits and sanctions. Typically represented by nurses, welfare workers, public school teachers, or police officers, street level bureaucrats cope with an unlimited demand for services, scarce resources, and ambiguous, contradictory, and overlapping job descriptions. These public servants embody the terminal point of the state capillary power. Their minute choices to accommodate the law to specific circumstances define the way in which the government reaches the people. Frequently, rules that intend to avoid discretionary power end by creating paradoxical bottlenecks that can be solved only through more discretion (Brown, p. 27). Democratic vs. Administrative Power What we traditionally call state and government gives place here to pure administrationa state of affairs which Marx rightly predicted as the withering away of the state, though he was wrong in assuming that only a revolution could bring it about, and even more wrong when he believed that this complete victory of society would mean the eventual emergence of the realm of freedom (Arendt, 1958, p. 45).

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332 Arendt describes the expansion of administration as a characteristic of the modern ageŽ (p. 159). The power embedded in the administration coincides with what Dahl defines as delegated authorityŽ (1998, p. 59). It is the authority enjoyed by delegates, agents, or subordinates,Ž such as administrative officers or contractors,Ž whom the community authorizes to perform functions on behalf of the constituencies.Ž Dahl judges it a necessary and legitimate tool of governance that allows for the execution of policies in democratic societies. But the form of this mandate is not democratic. Dahl acknowledges its paradoxical features. For democratic authority may require delegated authorities that are not, strictly speaking, democratic.Ž In fact, Dahl considers it democratic because (and only to the extent that) they carry out the policies of their superior, that is, the democratic body.Ž But this is not always the case, for the filigree of administrative apparatuses has long ago grown too complex and opaque for its constituencies to be able to control their use of power. Generally, the power of administrators tends to be subtracted from the public view and political discussion. In fact, in the last two centuries, peoples franchise has expanded at the same pace that issues were turned into the subject of administrative apparatuses. As a consequence, democratic polities have become at once more inclusive and exclusive. This paradox involves at least two dimensions. First, the more people are included, the less such inclusion means in terms of power. The poor, women, and other groups previously banned from the polity have been recognized with citizen rights. But the scope of what one can decide through the exercise of these rights has been reduced by the growth of the administration. Administrators influence politics both by performing as experts in

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333 advising elected officers and by deciding on how laws have to be understood and applied to individual cases. No less paradoxical seems the current coexistence of a universal celebration of democracy with the dismissal of the political. The bonds between bureaucratization and depoliticization have been accounted for by a diversity of authors. Arendt is one of them. The modern liberal, tradition, she observes, does not consider the political realm necessary. Arendt (1958, p. 159) associates liberalism with the attempt to exclude political man, that is, man who acts and speaks, from its public realmŽ the same way that homo faberŽ was excluded in ancient times. The protection of the productive, social side of human natureŽ is left to governmental administration,Ž says Arendt, while liberalism judges everything beyond the enforcement of law and order as idle talk and vain-glory.Ž Also Schmitt (1972) referred to the constant trend of the liberal state to neutralize issues by turning them into administrative ones. The sustained trend toward transforming issues from debatable into administrative that has accompanied the consolidation of the modern state makes state bureaucracies the actual ruler,Ž says Michael Brown (p. 19) even if this trend ultimately contradicts and undermines democracy. Democracy has extended but the territory of what can be governed democratically seems to have shrunk. Partly driven by the growth of the Welfare State, and later also encouraged by the neoconservative attempt to minimize democracy, many major themes have been taken away from the public and assigned to bureaucracies and experts. Laclau and Mouffe refer to this trend as The Anti-Democratic OffensiveŽ (p. 171). As they argue, a core trope of (now triumphant) neoconservatism is to remove public decisions

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334 more and more from political control, and to make them the exclusive responsibility of expertsŽ (p. 173). Under these auspices, allegedly more efficacious forms of administrative governance displace political debate and the demos from the government. The bureaucratic dynamic turns problems and issues into a series of individual files that have to be dealt with by experts. The social and the political seem to vanish, collective problems are fragmented, and individuals are forced to deal with issues separately through a bureaucratic office. Bureaucratic apparatuses tend to displace the burden over people themselves, thus the public is made responsible, when not criminalized, for the malfunctioning of the system. Laclau and Mouffe, Neocleous, Dean, are among those who point out these puzzling aspects of liberalism. The liberal state promotes both democracy and depoliticization. Once issues adopt an administrative form, it becomes increasingly difficult to turn them again into arguable and political. Under neoconservative auspices the citizenry itself loses entity. Wendy Brown examines neoconservative discourses and concludes that a fully realized neo-liberal citizenry would be the opposite of public-minded, indeed it would barely exist as a publicŽ (2003). The closer we are to this ideal, the more we contribute to empty [democracy] of all substance,Ž say Laclau and Mouffe (p. 173). Because, far from eliminating arbitrary rule, administrative bodies turn it anonymous. Thus, Arendt argues, instead of the no-ruleŽ that Marx imagined would correspond to the rise of administration, the rule by nobodyŽ that arises with bureaucracy may indeed, under certain circumstances, even turn out to be one of its cruelest and most tyrannical versionsŽ (Arendt 40). This way, administ rative apparatuses neutra lize conflict, depoliticize issues, and threaten us with asphyxiating the space of politics while

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335 generating forms of authoritarian rule strangely entrenched within liberal democracy. If democracy is a form of politics, what is left of democracy after depoliticization? Police discretion Despite institutional and legal differences in the organization of policing across countries, police power presents a common core. Citizen encounters with police officers open a gray zone of suspension of the law. Our momentary subjection to police power opens up uncertainty and the unexpected. Like other street level bureaucrats, police officers must adapt laws and norms to specific situations, deciding the extent to which legal policy reflects the original law on the booksŽ (Aaronson et al. ., p. 50). Like only a few others such as mental hospital attendants and prison guardsŽ (Bittner, 1975, p. 37), the police can use force. However, police officers make far more discretionary decisions and enjoy wider margins of discretion than any other sector within the state apparatus. Distinctively, police officers are authorized to use force (Bittner, 1975, p. 36ss.; Aaronson et al. , p. 4; Davis, Brown, Manning, Goldstein). Not only they have ample freedom to qualify situations and to act, but also can intervene proactively while enjoying awesome powers of coercionŽ (Brown 3). Rather than an accident resulting from weak controls, police discretion defines the core of police power. Whereas discretion cannot be said to cause police abuse, it makes its (re)production possible. Discretion permeates the exercise of police prerogatives of search, arrest, and coercion. It allows the police to challenge mechanisms of accountability and to erode the laws and rules that they are required to enforce. Although liberal states periodically make efforts to constrain police power (Walker, p. 1), 7 the police still enjoy an impressive 7 Jeffery T. Walker argues that for almost the first one hundred years of the history of the United States, the law set few parameters on policing. This resulted in police corruption, rampant in the early 1900s

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336 amount of power to arrest and search. In theory, this prerogative should be used to deal with criminals, yet police officers arrest individuals with purposes as diverse as to investigate, to harass, to punish, and to provide safekeepingŽ (Goldstein, p. 9). To arrest a person in the U.S., police officers must invoke probable cause,Ž an elusive notion that police officers and judges interpret very differently. But in case no ground exists to invoke probable cause,Ž search and arrest may still be based on other blurry concepts such as reasonable suspicionŽ (Walker, pp. 2, 218).8 Under not very different circumstances, in Great Britain there is little ground for anyone to question the polices reasonable suspicionŽ which paradoxically may include both 'moving quickly' and moving slowlyŽ(Neocleous, p. 103). Everywhere, the police are entitled to give us orders, admonitions, and punishments, to suspend our liberties, and to instruct us on the most diverse matters. In a seminal study, William Westley characterizes the work of the police officer with the paradox of having to discipline those whom he servesŽ (p. 35). Whereas the school, the hospital or the welfare system also discipline individuals, police decisions reach wider and deeper, as police officers have authority to intervene proactively and to use force in regulating interpersonal relations. As one of the interviewees participating of the present study explains, the tasks of police officers are unspecific.Ž They intervene and are expected to intervene in the most diverse situations, from helping a pregnant woman to deliver her child in an emergency, to giving us directions within the city, to taking charge (shakedowns, extortion, or officers committing crimes themselves), the practice of coercing persons into making (sometimes false) confessions that was unchecked until th e mid-1900s, and the ability of police officers to use deadly force on pr actically anyone seeking to escape that was not changed until 1985Ž (p. 1). 8 Probable causeŽ has been defined by the U.S. Supreme Court as existing when the facts and circumstances within the officers knowledge and of wh ich they had reasonably trustworthy information are sufficient in themselves to warrant a man of reasonable caution in the belief that an offence has been or is being committed.Ž Brinegar v. Un ited StatesŽ (qtd.. in Walker, 2002, p. 2).

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337 of lost children or elderly citizens. As Shearing and Ericson put it, the police have all of society, all aspects of organized life, as their potential sphere of operationŽ (p. 489). Key to police discretionary power is the faculty to define who is deviant in any social context and how that deviance is controlledŽ (Neocleous, p. 99). This power to characterize the nature of the situation and to classify people into law-abiding citizens, members of the community, suspects, or criminals, makes police discretion a crucial element of police power. Police officers decide whether to intervene in a situation as well as whether to criminalize it or not. They define who may or may not participate in politics, the exact extension to which people may exercise their freedoms of speech, meeting, or association, and they often regulate electoral processes. Police officers enforce the law, but they do so very selectively. On the one hand, they privilege the enforcement of certain laws over others. On the other hand, they oversee strict compliance with the law by some groups of people while systematically disregarding the behavior of others, thus using some lawsƒto harass peopleŽ (Brown, pp. xiii, 5). Police instinctŽ tends to be invoked as a source for judgment and decisionmaking (Pinizzotto, Davis, and Miller). Yet Brown suggests that decisions about intervening or ignoring situations and arresting or interrogating individuals result from a succession of choices a patrolman has already madeŽ (p. 7). Brown finds that police officers do not examine case by case, but they judge and act according to patterns of beliefs that organize their perception and prejudices. Accordingly, students of police discretion have identified different individual, organizational, demographic, and cultural factors influencing discretionary decisions by the police. As it was previously referred, studies of police culture show that hegemonic forms of representation orient the

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338 perception and uses of discretion of police officers. As findings by Manning, Terrill, and Pauline suggest, officers who embody the values of the traditional police culture, or have mixed views toward the culture, were more likely to use coercion compared with officers with nontraditional cultural attitudes.Ž Across countries, this power also generates tensions, arrests, and deaths that disproportionately victimize the poor, ethnic or religious minorities, and members of the political opposition. Therefore, studies of police discretion focus on the examination of encounters between citizens and police officers as well as on the differential amount of discretion involved in different tasks (Brown, Davis). But what defines police power and unites the otherwise disparate activities of the policeŽ is the authority to use coercion (Brown, p. 4). In fact, the police embody the monopoly of the means of violence characteristic of the state. Whether we think that there is an independent state whose monopoly of force has been confiscated by the policeŽ and turned into a personal property to be used as their discretionŽ as Westley argues, or we rather agree with Mitchell that there is no state outside practices such as policing, the use of coercion constitutes their distinctive feature (Westley, p. 41; Mitchell). Coercive power furnishes police officers judgment and decisions with the possibility of legitimately depriving a citizen from his or her liberty and rights and deciding between an individual's life and death. It is mostly through the police that the state administers death as part of its mandate of preserving order in society. While taking anyones life constitutes homicide, this is not necessarily the case when the state is involved. (With the exception of the United States, democracies have banned the death penalty, yet the state still exercises de facto its right to take life or let liveŽ that Foucault

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339 (1984, p. 259) identified as a basic element of sovereignty through summary executions by the police. To the eyes of the public, the logic of police intervention appears opaque, as both its occurrences and forms (i.e. advice, admonition, or arrest resulting in criminal charges or death) seem arbitrary. Ideally, in case that laws have been violated by the police, those responsible may be taken to court and tried as common criminals, since police power is allegedly subject to judicial review. Judicial review recognizes citizens the right to seek judicial intervention to remedy wrongs committed by government agenciesŽ (Morgan and Rohr, p. 221). But by then, abuse, violence, or killings have already taken place. As accessible and effective as judicial review may be claimed to be in long-lasting democracies, its effects can only arise a posteriori, which in the case of police abuses leading to death is especially problematic. Besides, recourse to judicial review seems limited.9 On the one hand, there is a trend for both administrative apparatuses and courts to circumscribe the situations, which may be brought to review by citizens. Morgan and Rohr provide an illustration in the long tradition of U.S. courts to make difficult for citizens to make officers accountable through a cornucopia of substantive and procedural obstacles,Ž such as treating the rights protected under the 14th Amendment as privilegesŽ (i.e. education or welfare services) whose arbitrary interruption by the state could not then be brought to court (p. 221). Although Morgan and Rohr claim that, at least in the U.S., the 9 For the case of Argentina, Gustavo Palmieri, Rodrigo Borda, and Cecilia Ales gather evidence on the existence of a series of j udicial practices that avoid questioning the lawfulness of police operation and deny the victims and their relatives the right to clarify the events and obtain a compensation for the aggression and damages suffered.Ž The authors attribute these patterns of judicial complicity with police abuse to a diversity of factors, namely an authoritarian judicial culture; few judicial officials competent in investigation and even less competent to take part in actions in which the Police de stroys evidence or changes the course of actions; procedural matters; connivance between judicial and police officials and, sometimes, scarce human resources and materials.Ž (Justice Facing Police ViolenceŽ CELS, Buenos Aires, 2003).

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340 thick wall of obstacles that blocked judicial access to citizensŽ were removed, this is not necessarily the case in other democracies. Rather, the puzzles of administrative discretion seem structural to the existence of administrative bodies. Even in Britain, the cradle of the liberal rule of law, the number of cases brought to court is small, as the possibility of review is severely curtailed by the courts own deference to the power of administrationŽ (Neocleous 1996, p. 163). On the other hand, the actions of the police count with the tacit consent of the judiciary. As Daniel Brinks points out for the cases of Uruguay, Brazil, and Argentina, it is frequent for prosecutors to rely too heavily on the police for information, receiving biased and incomplete informationŽ (p. 410). By presenting prosecutors with the preliminary, raw version, of events, as Christopher Wilson (2000) notices, the police certainly influence the construction of cases. A connivance of the judiciary with the police and administrative bodies seems to cut across countries. In new democracies, this dynamics worsens because of the lack of resources. Such tolerance to police and administrative discretion displays the flexibility of the state to accommodate the maintenance of order at any costs, even if it involves sacrificing its own law. As discretion in general, also police discretionary power increases as one moves down the hierarchyŽ (J.Q. Wilson, qtd. in Stanley). Whereas top police chiefs may directly influence the authorities as well as change the spirit of laws and policy by defining guidelines, priorities, and designing training courses, rewards, or punishments, lower-ranking officers exert direct power over the public. At the bottom of the hierarchy, patrol officers perform the role of street-level policy makersŽ by making definitive

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341 decisions on how to apply laws and deliver rewards and punishments directly (Aaronson et al. ., p. 50). Because discretion manifests itself through individual decisions and actions, it creates the illusion of detachment of police and administrative apparatuses from the government and therefore the perception that administration and policing are somehow outside politicsŽ (Neocleous, p. 104). This perception leads cases of police abuse to be treated as individual cases of misbehavior. In turn, police officers are simultaneously both autonomous and controlledŽ in their relation with the state (Brown, p. 29). Such ambiguous relationship with the state fosters permanent feelings of vulnerability among police officers, since any mistakeŽ may cost them their job. This way, an entire system based upon discretion preserves itself by eventually sacrificing individual agents.10 Such depoliticizing form of dealing with police abuse neutralizes political debates on the scope and use of police power. Ultimately, however, as Neocleous argues, police discretion exposes the discretionary character of state power as a whole (p. 101). Ambiguity of Discretionary Power Legibility is needed to turn society governable, to intervene and implement policies and police. James Scott (1998) examines the ambiguity of the techniques that the state uses to make society legible. Scott retrieves the case of a map drawn in Amsterdam in 1941 by the Nazis, entitled The Distribution of Jews in the Municipality,Ž which was drawn from records that had been voluntarily provided by Dutch citizens of Jewish 10 Emblematic cases of poor judgment , abuse, and violence, should be used to address the obstacles to a sound exercise of discretion and its ethical exercise in accordance with the principles of a democracy. For the inevitability of discretion makes necessary to prepare those in charge of policing to use it well. Recognizing the latter, however, involves the acceptance of the governing power embedded in policing and the assimilation of policing to gove rnance as such. But this is not what presen t democracies mostly do. Instead of discussing the best ways in which discretion should be exerc ised and those in charge of policing be prepared for it, episodes of abuse tend to be associated with discretion in a way that presupposes the possibility of eliminating it.

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342 origins. That map made possible the location and deportation of 65,000 people to death camps. Legibility, says Scott, amplifies the capacity of the state for discriminating interventionŽ (p. 78). Such capacity, he points out, in principle could as easily have been deployed to feed the Jews as to deport them.Ž To feed or to deport the Jews, that is to feed or to annihilate them. These options constitute two different forms of intervention over peoples bodies. As well as censuses, statistics, maps, regulations, requisites, relocations, rules, taxation, the techniques examined by Scott are no different from the original police mandate identified by Von Justi. These alternatives define what Foucault, and Agamben after him, call biopolitics. The state touches our bodies through administrative and police procedures, for policing is a form of administrationŽ (Neocleous, p. 91). In Homo Sacer , Agamben suggests that the administrative and police apparatuses required by the progressive welfare state and the totalitarian state are indeed the same. Both collect a wide range of information, both locate and control individuals, both categorize them, and both apply differential policy toward different categories of people. With a focus on Great Britain, Neocleous describes social security as a police projectŽ (p. 91). He shows that the 18th centurys police project returns in the structure of the Welfare State. If police forces within the Liberal state may be put to play a limited role is because the police apparatus has taken over the whole structure of state administration, Neocleous suggests. In short, he sees the contemporary state apparatus as a realization of the 18th centurys police utopian project. Far from vanishing, then, the comprehensive spirit of the police scienceŽ reappeared very effectively in the depoliticizing political machine that disguises itself behind the neutral mask of administration.Ž

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343 Rancière and Agamben argue that the organization of space under rationales such as the one that Scott refers to as the logic of the gridŽ (p. 57) carries with it the categorization and hierarchic arrangement of space and beings. In our societies, beings categorized as lowŽ are confined in zones. Images and stories taken from American inner cities, South American villas miseria,Ž poblaciones,Ž pueblos jóvenes,Ž favelas, French banlieues,Ž or ghettoes everywhere vividly convey what exclusion does to people. Hardly ever identified and treated as citizens, inhabitants of doomed spaces are just criminalized and subjected by administrative apparatuses and the police. If the development of the political calls for certain levels of intersubjective recognition and equality, while inequality results in police forms of governance (Schmitt, 1972, p. 45), then the geography of exclusion delineates the scope of depoliticization and its replacement with police forms of governance. In turn, these forms of policing categorize beings along political/ontological hierarchies that dehumanize the excluded. Responses to Police Discretion: between Law, Order, and the Living Law . The fatidic outcome of police abuse and deaths arising from discretion tends to be confronted in the literature with arguments that draw on notions of rights and present discretion as an excessive power that must be eliminated or at least minutely regulated. If human rights and the rule of law are to prevail, we are told, pockets of discretion need to be clearedŽ by the power of law. Conceptual and practical efforts have been made to constrain the police discretionary power. Shumavon and Hibbeln (p. 1) summarize main arguments in the literature. They identify proposals for using behavior normsŽ (Carl Friedrich) or external controls (Herman Finer) against discretion, a call for judicial activismŽ to constrain Congress to eliminate discretion altogetherŽ (Theodore Lowi), and arguments to confine, check, or structureŽ discretion (K.C. Davis).

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344 Perspectives like these gave in turn inspiration to different policies. Professionalism was one of them. Police professionalism gained ground in the United States since the 1940s as a reaction to inefficient, corrupt, and partisan police forces. Under the influence of reformers such as Vollmer or Wilson, professionalism promoted apolitical police forces organized through strict and centralized controls, rigid discipline, efficiency, and higher standards. Inspired in a Liberal understanding of power, professionalism sought to eliminate discretion. Professionalism expressed a central concern with the supremacy of the lawŽ and equality, values that inspired in 1957 the (later internationalized) Law Enforcement Code of Ethics (Goldstein, 1990, p. 7). The movement was, and still is, a success in terms of its expansion. But it also generated unforeseen consequences. Professionalism transformed the police in strictƒefficient, impersonal professionalsƒtied to quasi-military administrative structuresŽ (Brown, p. 14). Willem De Lint (1998, p. 277) observes that, as it promoted a mechanical application of liberal and rule-of-law norms,Ž professionalism brought legalistic biases and did not prepare officers to exercise discretion. Under professionalism, the education of police officers tends to become instruction only,11police training connotes just more physical drill and more knowledge of law and procedure,Ž and policing seems reduced to just techniques and skills that exclude critical thinking. 11 Harley Sorensen refers to his dial ogue with ex-sheriff Neil Haugerud, a liberal copŽ: I told him that I cannot imagine myself shooting a 97-p ound woman armed only with a kn ife, as cops have be en known to do. No, you wouldn't shoot her, Neil replied, nor would anyone who has not gone through police training"( Sorensen, Harley, Lesso ns From A Liberal Cop,Ž Monday , October 13, 2003 by the San Francisco Chronicle ).

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345 The Influence of Managerialism and Community Policing: From Professionalism to Flexible Cops Models of policing were drawn not only from legal paradigms but also from traditions such as Taylorism, consisting of principles of scientific managementŽ that were developed by Taylor and Fayol at the beginning of the 20th century to improve productivity in the factory. Whereas professionalism sought to eliminate discretion, managerial models attempted to subsume discretion into a rationale of public relations. Both perspectives are still influential in police organization and training. Drawing on the Canadian and American experiences, de Lint assesses achievements and flaws of managerial models of policing that were already during the 1940s. While these models seem better than professionalism for they recognized the need for police officers to exercise practical judgment, they trained them in human or public relations courses.Ž After James Wilson's findings revealed in 1968 that police officers employed only 10% of their time in enforcing the law, the public relations approach was enhanced with the incorporation of techniques drawn from psychology and social work. In policing, Taylorism inspired an analytics of police that translated into the definition of objectives to increase performance. De Lint illustrates the influence of Taylorism in projects such as STAR in California. The project involved task analysis of the police roleŽ to identify police officers trainable competenciesŽ (i.e. helping individuals, maintaining order, protecting the life and rights of the people) and to reduce police tasks to sets of knowledges and skills.Ž It reduced police officers to a set of manipulable knowledges, skill, and abilities (KSA's).Ž In turn, the desired police skills in the STAR project were drawn through a systemic approach to public relations.

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346 De Lint shows that managerial influences accompanied changes in the organization of policing. The boom of community policing in the 1980s welcomed Post-Fordist models of organization and incorporated them to police training. As in the factory, the goal was to achieve flexibility by producing a flexible cop able to perform a diversity of functions and to be integrated with his or her community. Community policing was presented as a synonym with democracy and became dominant during the 1980s in the United States and the United Kingdom for, as Reiner mentions, it was difficult to resist its bien pensant tones (1992, p. 78).12 It arose from the understanding that the police have an ample role to fulfill besides crime prevention (Watson, Stone, DeLuca, 1998). According to this perspective, maintaining order in society requires police involvement in the life of the community. Police officers are expected to gather information from the community to respond to community needs and to solve conflicts before they may trigger violence (Chevigny, p. 115). Within models of community policing, frontline officer discretion is enhanced, says Nigel (p. 155). For this reason, as well as for the spread and complexity embedded in the approach of community policing, it deserves an especial reference. Community policing Advocates of community policing agree on the need of a larger involvement of the police in social matters. But beyond this basic shared belief, perspectives diverge radically, which is why Shearing and Johnston qualify community policing as an 12 Nigel Fielding accounts for an industry of research on community policing, which has secured the livelihood of thousands of researchers worl dwide (p. 154). As a result of that research, says Nigel, we know: First, the empirical referents of the research described consist of every element of the social world (senior police, frontline officers, the community). Thus, ev erything in the social world has something to do with the success or otherwise of community policing. Second, the relevan t factors, the things whose adjustment brings about predicted effects, have been identified. () There are lots of factors; indeed, they are myriad.

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347 umbrella termŽ (p. 74). Not surprisingly, community policing acquires different meanings according to how one defines communityŽ and to how the project expects the people to participate. Some interpret community policing simply as a strategy to turn the population into police informers. Others, however, see the approach as a way to make the people decide on the type of order (and the forms of maintaining it) they want for their communities.13 So remarkable differences between perspectives on community policing make Pat OMalley and Darren Palmer (1996, p. 138) argue for the limited utility in regarding community policing as a historically homogeneous formation.Ž The conservative, dominant, version of community policing seeks to co-opt the population in processes of routine surveillance, and to increase the flow of information coming to the policeŽ (OMalley and Palmer, p. 137). Scholars such as James Scott (p. 369) and Mike Davis (1990, 1998) question community policing in the United States, as the communityŽ tends to be depicted after groups of people living in private communities such as Disneys Celebration rather than real lifeŽ neighborhoods. The conjunction between restrictive meanings of community and an all-encompassing role attributed to the police results in the reproduction of exclusionary and authoritarian patterns of policing. But we must concede to OMalley and Palmer that it is unfair to reduce community policing to its most conservative variants. The approach has also inspired democratic commitments. In the United Kingdom, the formative discourses of community policingŽ sprung during the 1960s and the 1970s under the auspices of the Welfare State (p. 138). The by then spread notion that inequality, poverty, and exclusion lied at the root of crime 13 The range of conceptions of community polic ing that arise from the set of interviews supporting the present study is presented and discussed in Appendix D.

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348 and violence led to highlight the need to make opportunities available to all. However, the welfarist involvement of the police in peoples lives was criticized for its intromission and its clientelistic and patronizing overtones. The neoliberal (neoconservative in the United States) shift of the 1980s came along with new versions of community policing that make individuals and communities responsible for their own safety (OMalley and Palmer, p. 145). Instead of considering only the exclusionary overtones and consequences of neoliberalism, Shearing and Johnston focus on its ambiguities, contradictions, and democratic potential. With its emphases on flexibility and the devolution of power, they say, neoliberalism tried to devolve rowing while continue to monopolise steeringŽ (p. 74). Thus, Shearing and Johnston see that the neoliberal call for decentralization and devolution also allows for the diffusion of experiences of self-governance referred in chapter 2 such as the Zwelethemba model in South Africa or similar experiences in Argentina. These progressive experiences of community policing draw on principles of problem-solving that question threats and punishment as principles of maintenance of order (Shearing and Johnston, p. 71). Problem-solving addresses the diversity of conditions that influence opportunities or obstacles to particular courses of actionŽ and pays especial attention to give a response to the underlying social conditions that lead to crime and disorderŽ (Watson, Stone, and DeLuca, p. 150). Strategies of problem-solving involving the people allow them to co-define order and co-govern themselves. Training These ideas translate into blueprints for police education and training. Community policing and problem-solving oriented policing focus on how to train police officers and channel discretion to improve neighborhoods' quality of life. Although these perspectives

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349 tend to rely on a problematic understanding of communityŽ and order, which are depicted as harmonic and apolitical, at least they acknowledge the need to for educating police officers discretionary judgment. To date, managerial models continue to dominate police training to date in developed democracies. Their influence is noticeable also in new democracies, as the interviews presented in Appendix D expose. In combination with these strategies, managerial approaches attempt to prepare police officers to use discretion through a set of psychological or public relations skills in light of models of decision-making. De Lint shows how the emphasis has been placed on training in judgment drills,Ž which through role-plays or software programs expose police officers to situations drawn from everyday life. Differently from role-plays that foster some discussion, software programs offer a series of choices of which only one is correct, the one that best expresses political correctness, so the respondent is punishedŽ for choosing options that connote some form of racism or discrimination. Police officers' performance is evaluated according to the consistency of their choices with ethical, legal, professional, and occupational standards, principles, and objectives.Ž These orientations train police officers in a set of skills that one can acquire in principle independently of one's own political ideas. It is just a matter of being exposed enough to judgment drills.Ž No doubt, policing requires techniques and the exercise of police discretion involves judgment. However, there is more to policing than the isolated evaluation of techniques and the reduction of judgment to managerial, profit seeking, decision-making. Can such mechanical ways of training help individuals to exercise discretionary power soundly? De Lint assesses the scarcity of research on the correlation between these forms

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350 of training in judgment and an improvement in the kinds of discretionary decisions made by police officers. Whereas techniques may be useful, these perspectives reveal influences no less technocratic and depoliticizing than those that they are supposed to overcome. An exception seems to result from (still isolated) programs of training in moral judgment. Drawing on Lawrence Kohlbergs focus on moral reasoning as the core of behavior, as well as on findings in the field of cognitive psychology, Barbara Morgan, Franklyn Morgan, Victoria Foster and Jered Kolbert (2000) elaborated and implemented a model of police training in moral judgment. Their Deliberate Psychological EducationŽ approach seeks to take individuals capacity for moral judgment further in the scale developed by Kohlberg. It resorts to problem-solving, role-play and discussion groups shared by both police officers and college students. The approach challenges participants and makes them examine and discuss diverse perspectives and to assume different positions. Morgan et al. . back their model with positive empirical evidence. Unfortunately, approaches such as this one have not yet gained sufficient ground. Instead, depoliticizing and mechanical models of training prevail in the formation of state officers in both established and new democracies. They do not encourage either critical thinking or autonomous judgment. Managerial models risk reducing the exercise of discretion to public relations and to a cosmetic democratization of policing. In sum, while professionalization succeeded in standardizing police forces, it failed to make the police more democratic. As Goldstein puts it, The lesson drawn from the studies that questioned the value of standard procedures is that the police erred in doggedly investing so much of police resources in a limited number of practices, based, in retrospect, on some rather naïve and

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351 simplistic concepts of the police role. They sought to deal in a generic way with a wide variety of quite different tasks for which the police are responsible (p. 13). Although the type of discretionary judgment involved in governing citizens may offer certain analogies with the process of decision making in a firm, the former cannot be reduced to the latter. Firms are driven by profit and not by a commitment to justice, equality, and democracy. Overall, no thoughtless, Pavlovian form of training can provide for the type of judgment that is needed to police and govern, at least not in accordance to democratic principles. Discretion, Eliminable Feature or Core of Police Power? Discretion contradicts the legal foundation of the Liberal state, as acts involving discretion can hardly be considered law enforcementŽ; it is hard to think of them with the categories offered by liberalism and its logic of rights, controls, checks, and balances. As a police officer turned into a law scholar, Gregory Howard Williams (1984) questions discretionary decisions on arrests. As he puts it, technically, the police have no explicit statutory authority to exercise this discretionŽ (p. 5). However, there is a tendency from courts to accept police discretionary power. As the U.S. Supreme Court puts it: In order to perform their peace-keeping responsibilities satisfactorily, the police inevitably must exercise discretion. Indeed, by empowering them to act as peace officers, the law assumes that the police will exercise that discretion responsibly and with sound judgment. That is not to say that the law should not provide objective guidelines for the police, but simply that it cannot rigidly constrain their every action (Chicago vs. Morales). Discretion may contradict the legal basis of the Liberal state, yet in practice there are neither resources nor personnel to enforce all laws over all individuals in all circumstances, as it would be materially impossible for the police to arrest all violators even if they so desiredŽ (Williams, p. 5; Aaronson et al. ., p. 15; Brown, pp. viii-ix). But even if the state were plenty of resources, full enforcement would not be desirable, argues

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352 Brown, considering the ambiguity present in any law and the divergences between the legal framework and the conditions for its application. Full enforcement could also bring about unfair and absurd consequences due to overlaps and contradictions between different policies. This is why discretion is necessary. Consider the impressive number of laws and regulations that are supposed to be enforced through policing. In California, for example, Perry and Sornoffs research showed during the 1970s that police officers were expected to enforce at any given moment 30,000 federal, state, and local lawsŽ (qtd. in Lipsky, p. 216). Similarly, the 480 possible paths of action faced by a police officer in a simple traffic stop offer a glance to the complexity of the decisions that those in charge of policing must make (Bayley, p. 1986). If not all alternatives receive the same consideration, the number of possibilities that appear in such a simple situation suggests the exponential complexity of other circumstances. Ambiguities and omissions in the law give rise to ridiculous or even dangerous situations. The latter also arise from overregulation. For example, Goldstein (1990) comments on how criminal biases in the law ridiculously forced the police to criminalize individuals in need of help such as persons suffering from mental illnesses. With those alternatives not being considered by the law, the police often ended up adapting the criminal justice system to achieve their objectivesŽ (p. 43), says Goldstein. Whereas police discretion frequently leads to abuse and the inadequate enforcement of rules and legal norms, it also provides for much less damaging adjustments of the laws on the booksŽ (Aaronson et al. ., p. 14). In this sense, discretion is also used to meet organizational pressures, acknowledge community differences, void antiquated formal

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353 rules that have never been removed from the books, or fit formal rules to street-level or individual circumstancesŽ (p. 15). Besides exposing the complexity of the tasks involved in policing, these caveats also suggest that law enforcementŽ only insufficiently describes police work. What we call law enforcement consists in fact of a (re)creation of law on a micro-basis by the police, and as a subjective recreation it always entails problematic dimensions. Studies of policing show that the choices of working cops are rarely made on the basis of clear-cut legal standardsŽ (Brown). Rather, officers decide what they want to do and then fit their legal powers around that decisionŽ (Neocleous, p. 112). The police do not use discretion to enforce the law, but use the law to justify their exercise of discretion. Instead of looking for episodes of transgression of the law to intervene, police officers decide on the unusual character of a situation and then seek for the laws, norms, and rules that are best to account for it. And although the definition of order should be derived from the law, in fact the law ends by being used to justify the police's interpretation of order. The association between law and orderŽ conceals the trend for police officers to maintain order even beyond or against the law. In fact, Brown says, it is the day-to-day choices of policemenƒ[that] determine the meaning of law and orderŽ (p. 6). Whereas on paper those in charge of policing should merely serve the law, in practice law and police converge in the motto The policeman is the lawŽ (qtd. in Westley). Unavoidably, far from reflecting the order of society like a mirrorŽ (Chevigny, p. 7), police officers materialize their own representations of order and the law in countless interventions throughout society. In this account, law enforcement appears more as a refraction than as a reflection of the law. But, are those representations originally theirs?

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354 This is questionable: patterns of uneven enforcement of the law tend to coincide with the elites' worldview, thus as Sykes puts it, so far the police have enforced the values of one factionŽ (p. 241). As it was discussed in chapter 2, the modern police arose as part of a project of containment of the dangerous classesŽ (Brown, p. 38). To date, policing appears centrally as policing of the poor (Brown, Neocleous, Foucault, Knemeyer), as the manners, customs, clothing, and behavior that are seen as normalŽ by the police are drawn from an idealized and normalized middle class. As problematic as it is for a democracy that non-elected officers enjoy such a great power, discretion is not eliminable. Unless societies develop completely automatic mechanisms of governance, neither the personal element in the exercise of power nor discretion will be eradicated. Absolute automation seems neither possible nor desirable, though, as it would lead to the loss of benign, positive forms of discretion, which rigid oppositions between rule of lawŽ and rule of manŽ tend to miss. Although discretion has almost become a synonym with abuse, its positive meanings should not be lost. If not directly in relation to the police, Bonnie Honig contributes to the endeavor, by retrieving virtuous and courageous uses of discretionary power. Honig reconstructs the story of Louis Freeland Post, U.S. Assistant Secretary of Labor in the late 1910s, who used his administrative prerogatives to save thousands of immigrants from deportation during the 1919-20 first red scareŽ in the country. Postmans sustained struggle with J. Edgar Hoover, a champion of demonological politics,Ž gives testimony on how discretionary, administrative, power, may also serve to promote recognition and to expand citizenship rights. Honig suggests that this form of practicing discretion takes inspiration neither in the rule of law nor the rule of man, but in the rule of men or people: plural and riven,

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355 plainspoken and arcanely technical, lawlike and lawless, all at the same timeŽ (p. 39). Furthermore, Posts heroic discretionary struggle may serve to unearth latent or displaced traditions able to inspire democratic forms of exercising discretion. If we did eliminate discretion, both the excess of virtue, or wisdom, that Aristotle sees in unwritten laws, and the possibility of exercising equity and phron sis to make laws truly just, would also be lost. Acknowledging Discretion Empirical findings (Reiss, Goldstein, Reiner, Brown, Aaaronson, Dienes, and Musheno, Walker) led to reconsider the previous dismissal of discretionary power, as studies of police discretion show that laws and rules can only pose external limits to discretion. As Brown observes, the law tells a policeman what he may not do-rarely what he should do,Ž for the impossibility of the law to anticipate all of the daily problems of law enforcementŽ (p. 5). Browns study concluded that both learned responses to reasonably similar situationsŽ and a belief systemŽ orient police uses of discretion (p. 26). A belief system defines an operational styleŽ of policing and consists of a discrete set of values and facts are woven together and form a perceptual net which guides individual decisions.Ž Brown characterizes these belief systemsŽ as highly coherent structures characterized by selectivity, consistency, and stability.Ž Shearing and Ericsons study in turn suggests the potential of the figurative language embedded in stories to transmit principles and beliefs that orient the representation and interpretation of reality. Overlooked for decades, the need for discretionary judgment tends to gain recognition. Students such as Goldstein suggest the need to structure or sculptŽ it and welcome the emergence of a new common wisdomŽ about the police brought to light by

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356 studies of police discretion (p. 11). Goldstein argues that the police of necessity, must exercise broad discretionŽ and that far from defining their core, law enforcementŽ is just one method among many.Ž He accounts for the increasing acceptance of a wide range of functionsŽ to the police, which tend to be seen as legitimate to the extent that communities judge so. In short, the law and discretionary power, or the rule of lawŽ and the rule of manŽ appear in radical opposition only from a very narrow understanding of the law. It is worth noticing the similarities between the thicker Aristotelian understanding of the rule of law discussed in chapter 1 and representations of the law that arise from studies of discretion. With their concept of the living law, Aaronson et al. . argue that the study of the law must necessarily include those discretionary decisions that turn the law a living reality to citizensŽ (p. v). Accepting that the structure of the law implies pre-legal and discretionary elements, the authors define the law as A political process or as a series of stages in which formal rules„the law of the books„emerge as decisions reached by legislatures, courts, and government agencies. These mandates are interpreted, refined, and carried out by supervisory and street-level personnel of public bureaucracies. Through this administrative implementation, the rules have a specific impact on citizens and organizations, emerging as the law in action (p. 4) More attuned to the conditions of everyday life, this understanding of the law comprises the entire process that runs from the passing of written laws by legislative powers to their implementation at the opposite end of the scale by public officers and citizens. The law cannot be separated from the set of institutions and individuals from which it emerges and that are in charge of its implementation. The concept of the living law conflates written and unwritten norms and discretion as different aspects of the law.

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357 Interpreted in diverse circumstances by different officers, laws become living forms of law. A democratic society does not require the elimination of discretionary power but its exercise in accordance with democratic values and principles. Under these circumstances, the puzzles of discretionary judgment may benefit from revisiting classical concepts of phron sis and prudentia in light of their current reelaborations. Theoretical Coordinates of Discretion Conceived of by Lipsky as a form of judgment, the typical form of discretionary judgment faced by the police are regulatory decisions.Ž As Brown puts it, regulatory decisions are made in regards of the enforcement of a rule of lawŽ and involve two choices: the first one defines whether to intervene. In the case of deciding to intervene, then it is necessary to choose the form of intervention, whether informally or in a formal way through court action (Brown, p. 25). This section discusses the character of the discretionary judgment exercised by police officers in light of the concepts of sovereign power and phron sis . While the bonds between police and sovereign power were anticipated in chapter 4, the first sub-section presents the discretionary power exercised by the police as a case of sovereign power. The assimilation of discretion to a sovereign exercise highlights the governing character of policing and turns it into the most concrete and direct exercise of government in society. The Sovereign Character of Discretionary Power As it was referred in chapter 4, main theorists of sovereignty such as Bodin and Hobbes present officers charged with police functions as sovereign magistrates. As it was also anticipated in that chapter, this link between police and sovereignty has been revisited by Agamben. Elaborating on Schmitt, Agamben (1991, p. 103) locates police practices in an area of indistinction between violence and right that is exactly

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358 symmetrical to that of sovereignty.Ž The same way that for Schmitt the preservation of the legal order rests on the sovereign prerogative of suspending and recreating the law to subsume the exception, the police mandate of maintaining public order demands a similar recreation of the legal order for Agamben. But whereas Schmitt seeks to distinguish clearly between normalcy and exception, Agamben suggests that this distinction is not as clear cut. Also, while Schmitt seems to identify a sole figure of sovereignty, Agambens characterization of the police as sovereign turns sovereignty into a capillary exercise. It is my contention that not all moments of policing entail the exercise of sovereign power, but only those that involve the exercise of discretion. Or, in other words, it seems to me that we could treat the concepts of discretionary judgment, police discretion, or discretionary power, as synonyms with sovereign power. In this account, police discretion unveils the bond between insignificant and invisible daily activity of the state bureaucracy and police routine and the political and ontological core that sustains social order. In dealing with any particular situation a police officer makes a decision about what, if anything, is out of order and then makes a decision about how to overcome itŽ (Neocleous, 2000, p. 113). Police officers exercise discretionary judgment and make decisions on a terrain of undecidability, or realm of exception, that mediates between the written law and those concrete situations that they judge call for their intervention. Whether we define the sovereign as the one who can give people laws without their consent as Bodin, as the one who decides on the exceptionŽ as Schmitt, or as the one who decides on the exception about the status of life as Agamben, it seems to me that discretionary judgment is the material of which sovereign power is made.

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359 Differently from Leviathans pyramidal structure, however, the modern state defines and maintains a network of sovereign power without a sovereign. Sovereign power is a relationship that resided for centuries with the body of the monarch. In politics, modernity coincides with the process of disembodiment of sovereign power. Symbolized by the execution of Kings Charles I and Louis XVI, the disembodiment of sovereignty founds the modern state and precedes the organization of the modern police. As Robert Reiner puts it, The rise of the police„a single professional organization for handling the policing function of regulation and surveillance, with the states monopoly of legitimate force as its ultimate resource„was itself a paradigm of the modern. It was predicated upon the project of organizing society around a central, cohesive notion of order (p. 79). If it can be argued that no society ever corresponded to that project, contemporary societies certainly do not. Nor do real police forces fit the image of specialized maintainers of the law that liberal democracies assign to them. Far from eliminating sovereignty, the liberal state has dissipated it throughout the state apparatus. The fact that nobody is the sovereignŽ does not mean that sovereign power has been eliminated, but instead that it shifts from being a personal attribute to arise from certain positions within the structure of the state. Whereas the omnipotent lawgiver was still associated with the personal element of rule in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the personal factor had been dissipated by the nineteenth and twentieth centuriesŽ (Schwab, p. xvi). An example offered by Neocleous illustrates this shift: In March 1794 a passport was issued to Robert Listen Esquire, the last passport to be personally signed by the monarch. Since then the Kings signature has been unnecessary in the granting of permission to travel. Employing a Foucauldian curlicue we might say that the Kings hand has been symbolically chopped off; the royal sovereign no longer permits or forbids travel to foreign destinations. Yet, although the monarchs permission to travel is no longer needed, the granting of the permission to travel is now an act of administration (1996, p. 88).

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360 The analysis of policing as a sovereign practice results in an inverted Leviathan, in which the exercise of sovereign power pervades the terminal points of the state apparatus and, through the performance of discretionary judgment of innumerable individuals, permanently recreates the legal order. The activities required by the exercise of discretion are similar to those that are prerogative of the sovereign, and discretionary judgment is core to both policing and the government. In fact, the police are those who directly govern us, and key in this performance are their forms of exercising discretionary judgment. Police Discretion as a Case of Practical Judgment Laws represent the products of the art of politics: how then can laws teach a man the art of legislation, or help him to pick out the best of them? (Aristotle, Ethics, Book X, p. ix). The ethical and practical problems posed by the exercise of discretionary power resemble questions long ago addressed by Aristotle. While the philosopher is clear about the importance of having good laws, he also emphasizes the need for the law to be accompanied with critical examination and the possibility of judging what is rightly enacted and what is the opposite, and what sort of legislation is suitable for different circumstances. Having good laws is for him extremely important, but it is just a precondition. The key question then is how to use them correctly to advance justice. Chapter 1 made reference to his perspective on the law and his call for equity to accommodate the law to especial cases.14 14 In the Ethics , the philosopher recogn izes the incommensurab ility of the law, universal in character, with its application to particular cases. Th e law can only consider situations in general, yet advancing justice demands the especial treatment of especial cases throug h equity, which Aristotle conceives of as a rectification of legal justice (Book V, p. x).

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361 Equity, let us remember, has a corrective purpose and seeks to compensate for the omission by a ruling such as the legislator himself would have given if he had been present thereŽ (Book V, p. x). The argument for equity appears as an argument in support of (benign uses of) discretion. But there is still other major Aristotelian theme that seems especially suited to illuminate the analysis of discretionary power, namely his discussion of phron sis . This section presents the claim that the exercise of police discretion is a type of practice that calls for phron sis . Independently of how societies decide to organize policing, phron sis should inform its performance. Phron sis , however, is a multi-faceted term. It has a long history, and there is an extensive literature on the subject. Before discussing how phron sis can inform discretionary practices in policing, I will briefly introduce the concept in light of main traditions that addressed phron sis . Then, I delineate the aspects that I judge most productive, drawn mostly from classical and postmodern sources, to inform a debate on the exercise of police discretion under democratic auspices.15 15Phron sis and prudence tend not to be associated with de mocracy but instead with conservative and aristocratic values and institutions. Reeve reminds us of that for Aristotle as for Plato, that ideal phron tic society would be far from a participatory democracy. However, Reeve exposes the purely ideological foundation of this aspect of the Aristotelian thought. Reeve summarizes Aristotles claims: first, he says, Aristotle appeals to the complexity of what the ruler needs to be able to understand in order to ruleŽ (p. 194). Not only he assumes that bot h intelligence and virtue are and will always be unevenly distributed, but these assumptions lead him to conclude that, by natur e, people are differently suited to access eudaimonia . Reeve suggests that these assumptions are accessory to the Aristotelian theory of phron sis , therefore it can be reappropriated for different po litical projects and political purposes. My argument draws on this interpretation.

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362 Phron sis First identified by Plato in the Cratylus,16phron sis becomes a moral virtue in his later dialogues such as Laws (Thiele, 2005, p. 18). But it is Aristotle who thoroughly recognizes to phron sis a key role in advancing eudaimonia, that is happiness or the supreme good. He defines phron sis as the virtue of producing right judgments about what is to be done (Ethics, Book VI, p. v). Phron sis is commonly defined as practical wisdom, prudence, or common sense. Different scholars translate the word differently. Beiner and Nedelsy define it as practical wisdom (p. 8); MacIntyre translates it as practical intelligence (p. 97); after Gadamer (p. 21), Dunne presents as practical knowledge (i.e., knowledge fitted to praxis) (p. 10). Considering the nuances alternatively grasped and lost with translation, rather than adopting any of these particular meanings I follow Thieles characterization of practical wisdom, prudence, practical judgment, moral judgment, and political judgment (2005, p. 14) as synonymous. The type of practical judgment necessary to confront always unique situations is at once perceptual, moral, ethical, legal, and political. Similarly, I find adequate Robert Harimans characterization of prudence as a trait, virtue, norm, skill, mode of reasoning, and form of character (p. 293), for the situations that call for phron sis invoke all these dimensions, and all of them are embedded in the concept. As a form of practice, phron sis cannot be turned into a science nor be apprehended by a series of principles. As Hariman notices, a systematic theory of prudence would be a contradiction in terms (p. 16 In the Cratylus , Socrates introduces the word in association with both wisdom and motion. Phronesis (wisdom), which may signify Phoras kai rhou noesis (perception of motion and flux), or perhaps Phoras onesis (the blessing of motion), but is at any rate connected with Pheresthai (motion). Plato. Cratylus . Benjamin Jowett transl).

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363 19). The exercise of prudence is contextual; even relying on the same ethical principles, what is good for a situation cannot be good for other one. Elaborating on Hariman, we can distinguish three phases in the history of the concept, ancient, modern, and one that he considers under wayŽ (p. viii). It seems to me that the latter could be called postmodern, and that we could see these three moments as having turned in the present into competing perspectives. The first one, classical, emphasized the practical aspects of phron sis in connection with particulars. This perspective draws on the works of Aristotle, Cicero, their medieval commentators, and the political philosophers from the Renaissance. Hariman judges Machiavellis work on prudence both the culmination of the first phase and the initiation of a radical transformation of the concept. Machiavellis ideas on prudence bridge the ancient with the modern world. The second phase in the history of the concept of phron sis centers on Immanuel Kant and involves a philosophical shift in which phron sis is reshaped as a faculty of the mind and examined as such. Kant, to whom Arendt recognizes as having discovered an entirely new human faculty, namely judgmentŽ (1978, p. 255), disentangled judgment from concrete practices. This modern philosophical drive involves the transformation of phron sis into the faculty of judgment and leads to its analytical examination in relation to other faculties, knowledge, and ethics. The characteristically practical concerns of the Ancients regarding the acquisition and performance of phron sis are lost. The Kantian theory of judgment, developed in his Critique of Judgment along (aesthetic) matters of taste, departs from discarding the classical tradition of phron sis . Beiner refers that nowhere in Kants discussion of judgment do we find a concern with the qualities of experience, maturity, and sound habituation that have

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364 traditionally been observed as the mark of practical wisdom in a man of actionŽ (1992, p. 134). Arendt revisits the Kantian project and more or less announces the program for a political philosophy of judgment drawn from KantŽ (Beiner and Nedelsky, p. viii). But Arendts preoccupation with judgment in her late work on human faculties opens no room for judgment of the particularŽ (Arendt, 1978, p. 256) either.17 Despite the renewed emphasis given to the Kantian legacy by Arendt, Hariman considers the Kantian project of studies of the faculty of judgment completed. Whether that approach to judgment has already realized its goals, as Hariman conveys, many scholars are still engaged with it. Finally, Hariman suggests that we are going through a third phase of development of the concept of phron sis that recognizes postmodern auspices and finds a paradigmatic 17 The next decisive shift in the study of prudence is due to Immanuel Kant, who redefines prudence as a human faculty that has no fixed relationship to any social practice or political eliteŽ (Hariman, p. 313). Kant acknowledges the concern of this faculty with the particular, but j udgment of the particular„This is beautiful, This is ugly; This is right, This is wrong„has no place in Kants moral philosophyŽ (Arendt 1992). From a tradition that sought to prepare indi viduals for the good exercise of prudence, the Kantian redefinition of the concept is rewritten in the language of philosophical reflection on the thinking subjectŽ (Hariman, p. 313). These philosophical discussions open up the consideration of prudence as a mode of reasoning or as an ethical system,Ž ways Hariman. Kants examination of the faculty of ju dgment also recognizes roots in Aristotles phron sis (Beiner and Nedelsky, p. viii). The Aristotelian discussion of phron sis constitutes, after all, the placement of the ability to judge about particulars within and ethical (and political) system. But whereas Aristotle seems concerned at once with both the theoretical and practical dimensions of phron sis , his classical successors take the practical and his modern ones the theoretical aspects of this moral virtue. Whether as political ethics or practical reasoning, prudence is de scribed as a single, uniform set of cognitive operations and constraints. In addition, it is set apart from other modes of cognition with which it actually has a complicated relationship. Thus, philosophy minimizes or severes the ties between various modes of judgment, rather than appreciating how each contains elements of the others. No such approach can see how politi cs, ethics, and aesthetics are alternative reductions of an overdetermined reality (Hariman, p. 313). Hariman judges the analytical, di ssecting, drive of modern ph ilosophy toward prud ence eventually completed, for the philosophical discussion of prudence has left it disembodied from politicsŽ (p. 313). If this is not what many scholars suggest, overall after Are ndts revisiting of the Kantian legacy, Hariman suggests that the practical character of prudence should be enhanced but not displaced, by theoretical considerations. Evaluating the prospects for the furt her development of studies of prudence, Hariman suggests that a third phase is under its way, which cannot be subsumed by either the classical, pragmatic, nor the modern, theoretical, approaches to the subject. The present revivalŽ of prudence relates to the crises and puzzles that arise in our increasingly pollu ted, segregated, and self-d estructive world, which constitute at least in part paradoxical effects of the drive toward modernity.

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365 illustration in the work of Jean Franois Lyotard (1979). The postmodern revisiting of phron sis draws mostly on classical, practical, concerns, but also builds upon an ontological basis in which there is no universal truth but perspectives only. The focus on phron sis on the part of hermeneutic philosophers such as Hans-Georg Gadamer and (also communitarian) Alisdair MacIntyre echoes the hermeneutic drive of postmodernists. Along these lines, practical concerns with nuclear disasters and global ecology call for the critical recuperation of phron sis for a time in which human beings have become, for the first time ever, a threat to life as we know it (Flyvbjerg, p. 12). The classics The examination of phron sis in light of the other virtues dominates Book VI of Aristotles Ethics. The philosopher describes phron sis as an eminently practical virtue that apprehends the ultimate particular (p. viii) and seeks the realization of eudaimonia or happiness.18 For Aristotle, virtue consists of achieving a balance between two extremes (i.e. being patient instead of irascible or of lacking spirit, showing courage instead of rashness or cowardice).19 In his scheme, phron sis is the virtue that allows us to reach the proper, virtuous, balance in different circumstances.20Phron sis focuses on particulars. Yet it is concerned at once with both particulars and universals (Reeve, p. 73), for the identification of what is good in concrete circumstances requires a clear understanding of eudaimonia. As Reeve puts it, pursuing 18 Following Aristotle, MacIntyre describes phron sis as a capacity to apply tru ths about what it is good for such and such type of person or for persons on particular occasions (pp. 115-6). 19 Aristotle defines moral virtue as a mean between two vices (Book II, p. ix). 20 It is possible, for example, to feel fear, confidence, desire, anger, pity, and pleasu re and pain generally, too much or too little; and both of these are wrong. But to ha ve these feelings at the right times on the right grounds towards the right people for the right motiv e and in the right way is to feel them to an intermediate.

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366 eudaimonia requires to have access to knowledge of what eudaimonia isŽ (p. 89). But if phron sis requires understanding, it also develops further into the practices necessary for advancing the good. No other virtue contributes to this endeavor as does phron sis . It allows us to identify and bring to practice the actions must be performed for advancing eudaimonia. Since as practically rational beings we necessarilyŽ seek eudaimonia, says Reeve (p. 84), it follows that for Aristotle the phron tic individual deliberates about means but not about ends. Because of its potential for leading us to identifying what is true and good in specific circumstances, Aristotle argues that the possession of the single virtue of prudence will carry with it the possession of them allŽ (p. xiii). The exercise of phron sis equals the realization of virtues such as justice or reason in practical terms as it brings all of them into beingŽ (Reeve, p. 96). As MacIntyre explains, no moral virtue can be exercised without phron sis also being exercisedŽ (p. 116). The practical dimensions of phron sis make it a crucial virtue for Aristotle, to whom ethics appears at once as a theoretical and a practical project. Aristotle characterizes phron sis as imperative (since its end is what one should or should not do)Ž (Book VI, p. x). Its practical and imperative character makes it more authoritativeŽ than wisdom, for phron sis shapes our desires and orients us toward good actions. Although phron sis orients our practices, it cannot be rule-governed, MacIntyre argues, for its exercise consists of understanding Why this particular situation makes the exercise of some particular moral virtue or the application of some particular rule of justice in acting in some particular way the right thing to do. And there are no rules for generating this kind of practically effective understanding of particulars (p. 116).

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367 Due to its potential for advancing virtue and eudaimonia, Aristotle deems phron sis crucial for the governance of the city, the household, and the individual (p. viii). The polis defines the scenario for the conc rete realization of justice, and the practice of justice is oriented by phron sis . How do we become phron tic individuals? To become acquainted with phron sis , MacIntyre argues, we need the guidance of an adequate conception of the good and the best (p. 118). But the latter requires to have inferred (through a form of inference that Aristotle calls apag g ) the right principles arising from our practice of phron sis . While the argument seems recursive, MacIntyre suggests that the Aristotelian solution calls for learning simultaneously on both levels, theoretical and practical, while permanently relating them. Or, as Thiele puts it, The phronimos is a knower of the good only in his capacity as a doer of the good, and a doer only in his capacity as a knower (2005). The second book of the Ethics opens with the distinction between two kinds of virtue, intellectual and moral. While the development of intellectual virtues demands instruction, time and experience, in our acquisition of moral virtues knowledge has little or no force (Book II, p. iv). The reason is that the knowledge of what is good does not necessarily lead us to act in consequence. It is not because of theoretical reasons that we become virtuous, says Aristotle, but the practice of moral virtue results from habit. While humans are naturally suited for virtue, its full development in us requires the acquisition of good habits. It is only from the repeated performance of just and temperate acts that we acquire virtues (p. iv). Individuals become just by the performance of just, and temperate by the performance of temperate, acts (p. iv). We become virtuous only by practicing virtue. Aristotle seems inflexible that only those who

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368 only those who have already good habits can engage in ethical enquiry (Reeve, p. 49). As Thiele notices, pedagogy or persuasionŽ can only work only if the foundation for phron sis has already been laid through (habitual) practiceŽ (2005). It is only through habits that a character apt for the practice of phron sis develops. Still, among those individuals who have already acquired good habits, phron sis can be developed only from experience. As much as young individuals may excel for their knowledge, and Aristotle uses geometry and mathematicsŽ as an example, they are not thought to develop prudence,Ž he says. Since phron sis is concerned with the variableŽ (p. v), with conduct, and with particular circumstances, it must always take cognizance of particularsŽ (p. vii), Aristotle says. Phron sis involves the knowledge of particular factsŽ that can only arise from experience. But experience, the philosopher reminds us, takes some time to acquireŽ (Book VI, p. viii). In fact, phron sis and the political are intimately related in Aristotle. Reeve equates them, and argues that a political cultivation and that of phron sis must be the sameŽ (p. 113). In the first place, neither virtue nor justice are possible outside the polis. MacIntyre reminds us that separated from the polis, what could have been a human being becomes instead a wild animalŽ (p. 98). Aristotle identifies two main dimensions of phron sis concerning the state.Ž The first one involves legislative science; [and] the other, which deals with particular circumstances, bears the name that properly belongs to both, viz. political scienceŽ (p. viii). Reeve suggests that phron sis tends to develop into politics. If the realization of eudaimonia involves the entire community,  phron sis needs what only a polis can provide, namely, habituation in virtueŽ (p. 188). The achievement of

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369 phron sis with the purpose of advancing eudaimonia then challenges individuals qua citizens. Phron sis became a major philosophical theme after the Aristotelian legacy. Creatively appropriated by the Romans, who praised the exhibition of wisdom by legislators and political leaders, the Aristotelian thinking of phron sis found continuation in the work of Cicero. The concept, however, changes into prudentia . Although prudence was already appreciated among the Romans, Robert W. Cape (p. 39) recognizes Cicero as the one who explicitly proposes to assimilate prudentia to phron sis . Cicero equates the dignity of the prudent Roman to the one of the wise Greek individual and expands the notion of prudentia in such a way that it includes and subsumes sapientia or (philosophical) wisdom (pp. 41, 50). In this respect, Cicero expresses the Roman emphasis on the superiority of civic to merely contemplative life. Montesquieu rightly characterizes Cicero as someone who does not give precepts; but he makes them felt. He does not exhort to virtue; but he attracts to itŽ (p. 734). Differently from Aristotle, Cicero did not attempt to place prudentia within any philosophical system, but linked it instead to legal and political practices and to the art of rhetoric. The idea behind the association between prudence and rhetoric is to discipline well-rounded, humanistically trained, urbaneŽ (p. 43) individuals able to engage in the government. The rules of rhetoric are understood to carry with them ethical and civic standards which individuals can access through training, which is centrally training in rhetoric. In Cicero, prudentia appears as an observable„and replicable„virtue, closely tied to wide learning, practical training, and active participation in civic lifeŽ (Cape, p.

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370 61). The insight that sees literature and rhetoric as a potential transmitter of prudence is also originally Ciceros, Cape argues, and embeds his political writings. If prudence is the capacity for situational judgment that can be learned through practice only, then Ciceros method of studying, reflecting upon, and imitating good examples of oratory and civic engagement appears as adequate. Learning to be prudent proceeds through the identification, and imitation, of good examples. Not a theory of prudence, in consequence, but a profuse discussion of examples of prudent and imprudent deeds carried by a series of political leaders, including himself,21 cuts across Ciceros work. Accordingly, in De Inventione, Cicero presents the argument that Nature allows her secrets to be revealed by prudent men through the use of talesŽ (p. 52) and dreams. The notion that history had lessons for usŽ (Garver, p. 70) that presents history as a substitute for personal experience and habituationŽ is originally Roman and excels in Ciceros work. Ciceros ideas on prudentia , Cape notices, furnished the primary definitions of prudence in the West until the recovery of Aristotles texts in the twelfth centuryŽ (p. 36). In this classical tradition influenced by both Aristotle and Cicero, prudence develops into a series of pedagogical practices to prepare those destined to govern. In the middle ages and the Renaissance, the instruction in prudence included the study of rhetoric and political and ethical texts. Robert Hariman identifies this as the first phase in the history of the concept, judges Machiavelli as a transition figureŽ and credits the political philosopher responsible for its full development and culmination (p. 313). a udence. There he judges his prudent actions saved my fellow-citizensŽ from the vi olence that could have arisen from confronting Clodius. Perhaps al so in regards of prudence, for the  prudens knows when to speak and when to be silentŽ (Cape 37), that speech was not delivered.

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371 Machiavellis The Prince, a systematic treatise on the education of the statesman, represents both the most thorough achievement of the tradition and a new departure. On the one hand, as Thiele notices, Machiavelli, was at one with Cicero in celebrating the power of the human mind.Ž Both in The Prince and his Discourses on Livy , Machiavelli seems to follow the classical method of examining good and bad historical examples of prudentia . But with him prudence loses its moral and rhetorical connotations, for Machiavelli also sought to distance practical wisdom from ethical lifeŽ (Thiele, 2005). Anticipating the tensions between an ethics of responsibility and an ethics of conviction identified by Max Weber, Machiavelli argues for the need of separating morality from action in what relates to the government.22 Machiavellis Discourses expose his admiration for the principles of the Roman Republic. However, he faces more urgent practical concerns. After a member of the Medici family became Pope Leo X in 1513, while first Giuliano and then Lorenzo de Medici were in charge of Florence, and another family member governed Tuscany, Machiavelli saw an opportunity for the unification of Italy (Bondanella and Musa, pp. 18-9). Machiavelli is the first political thinker who disentangles personal from public morality and both of them from efficacy. After him, the classical bonds between rhetoric, virtue, and prudence, become lost. Instead, he develops an understanding of prudence that consists of having the ability and choosing the rights means to confront the contingencies of goddess Fortuna. As he puts it, A prince, and especially a new prince, cannot observe all those things by which men are considered good, for in order to maintain the state he is often obliged to act against his promise, against charity, against humanity, and against religion. And 22 John S. Nelson highlights that Machiav elli took his principles of pr udence only for po litics and war, not for familial and religious affairsŽ (p. 231).

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372 therefore, it is necessary that he have a mind ready to turn itself according to the way the winds of Fortune and the changeability of affairs require him; and as I said above, as long as it is possible, he should not stray from the good, but he should know how to enter into evil when necessity commands (p. 135). Eugene Garver (2003, p. 67) credits Machiavelli with exhibiting the incommensurability of ultimate valuesŽ (p. 67) . Indeed, Garver argues that Machiavelli poses us with a triple kind of incommensurability of good endsƒgood abilities, andƒgood sources of valueŽ (p. 68). Machiavelli shows that there is no way to compare the worth of different possible purposes or goals, however we are generally forced to choose between them. While good ends cannot be compared, any of them can be realized through different means, for he sees no intrinsic connection between ends and means. In turn, Garver sees Machiavelli discovering pl ural sources of legitimacy and loyalty. As Garver rightly indicates, however, the Machiavellian universe is not an amoral one. Might does not, even here, make rightŽ (Garver, p. 89). Machiavelli dedicates his Discourses not to princes but to those who, because of their numerous good qualities, deserve to be princesŽ (p. 169) and advices us to esteem those who know how to rule a kingdom, not those who, without knowing how, have the power to do so.Ž Ultimately, history is for him the last judge. Despite these concerns, to the extent that his work shows that there is no simple correlation between success and virtueŽ (Garver, p. 89), his legacy led to disentangle prudence from morality and rhetoric. After Machiavelli, prudence would accompany the eclectic narrative of the reason of state (Foucault, 1979, p. 246). Associated with absolutism, as Foucault suggests, its classical modalities would be discredited together with it. Under the legacy of the reason of the state, its occasional reappearances in modern society are still inspired on the individual justification of flagrant self-interest or rank careerismŽ as well as political

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373 realismŽ and social engineeringŽ (Hariman, p. 15). These merely instrumental versions of prudence retain no connection with ethics. On the other hand, as it was mentioned before, until recent years the tradition had found refuge in philosophy under the form of judgment that had no concern with reality. The recuperation of the middle ground linking ethics, reason, and sound phron tic practices began when the multiple crises of modernity exposed the limits of a world governed by instrumental forms of rationality. A multiplicity of traditions and local stories contend now for the place previously occupied by metanarratives. The crisis of the narratives of modernity with its general consensuses allowed for the recuperation of pre-modern traditions. Phron sis is one of them. Postmodern (?) contributions Although there is no unanimity in defining our times as postmodern, Maurice Charland suggests that perhaps we may agree on that our time finds us with reason and freedom, but without a basis for practical lifeŽ (Hariman, p. 259). Projects based upon the modern universalizing, homogeneous, conceptions of time, subjectivity, and rights, ranging from the Enlightenment to liberalism to Marxism, translated into sets of abstract rational principles that were generally advanced through instrumental forms of reason. The critique of this instrumental reason opened room for discussions of postmodernity, which Jean François Lyotard characterizes as a situation of incredulity toward metanarrativesŽ (p. xxiv). Once force reveals itself behind the constructs that were taken by just or true (Lyotard, p. 46), the narratives of the modern age, developed around universal tropes of justice, liberty, reason, science, and emancipation, come under suspicion. Consensus cannot be assumed anymore (p. 60). If centrally preoccupied with knowledge, one of the main problems that Lyotard sees is how to define justice in the postmodern context. Lyotard, interrogates the

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374 possibilities of legitimacy in a paralogical situation, once we no longer have recourse to the grand narratives.Ž Lyotard conceives of society as a series of local, temporary, and contractual language gamesŽ in which we participate through speech actsŽ (p. 66). His response consists of allowing these temporary consensuses based upon the little narrativeŽ to ground practices of knowledge and justice. Justice, in these conditions, consists of playing those games in a fair way according to local rules. Prudence, as Hariman argues, does not meet the legitimation criteria of high modernismŽ (p. 19), and it is in this quality that phron sis comes to the forefront in Lyotards thinking (1985). Local practices of justice require judging case by case without any external guidance. In this context, phron sis allows us to develop dangling prescriptivesŽ (Lyotard 1985, p. 59) suited to particular situations. The Greek tradition of phron sis allows us to weigh many little narratives that may well be incompatible, and then judge (without a net, as it were)Ž (Charmand, p. 268). Differently from Aristotle, to whom phron sis ultimately relies on the knowledge of eudaimonia and the laws of the city, Lyotards notion of prudence offers to recuperate the exercise of the practice in a context of uncertainty with respect to rules, which he calls paralogy (1999, p. 60). Playing the games in which we are involved respecting their rules and at the same time being able to try and create new moves, perhaps even master strokes,Ž gives a sense of how to practice justice in the paralogical situation described by Lyotard. Accordingly, Charland highlights the emphasis of prudence on performance over reason and becoming over being.Ž From a postmodern standpoint, Aristotles philosophy is seen as one that opens up to contingency. The Aristotelian ontology of the contingentŽ (p. 262) in the words of Pierre Aubenque, requires our recognition and interpretation of

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375 the singular. In the form of experience, the knowledge of the singular prepares us to confront the unexpected and unique with phron sis . Practicing phron sis allows us to go beyond the abstract sets of rules of modernity and to engage instead with the need for innovation and a balancing of goods,Ž says Charland (p. 261). Lyotards recuperation of phron sis has been subjected to various criticisms (p. 276). Among these critics, Shaun Gallager reminds us that for Aristotle phron sis requires knowledge of eudaimonia, a dimension that is absent in Lyotard. Gallager argues that without the ethos, without a backdrop of educational experience, what Lyotard calls phron sis is nothing more than what Aristotle would call clevernessŽ (p. 300). Charland instead defends Lyotards project. Not that Lyotard has no ethical orientation. It is just that his project seeks the disruption of narrative monopoliesŽ (p. 282) for understanding them as a main producer of terror. Charland sees Lyotard engaging with the project of a justice of differenceŽ that multiplies the possibility for telling stories in support of different, but congruent, notions of obligation. Gallager agrees on the adequacy of phron sis to confront the postmodern paralogical situationŽ (p. 304), if he just reminds us of the need for us to invest these practices with a concern with ethics. Elaborating on Gadamer, he sees phron sis allows us to understand the universal on the basis of the particular hermeneutical situation that one is in.Ž As Dunne also points out, what makes phron sis distinctive is precisely the intimacy of its relationship with ethical virtueŽ (p. 275). The question remains, the performance of practices that claim themselves just outside a common understanding of justice cannot but being problematic. Special mention deserves the bonds between phron sis and rhetoric. Examining the assimilation between the rhetorical virtue of appropriateness and decorum and the

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376 ethical virtue of doing what is right in the right circumstancesŽ in Machiavelli, Garver (p. 75) finds puzzling that Aristotle does not merge rhetoric and prudence. Dunne refers to Gadamers interest in phron sis because of similar processes involved in the phron tic experience and in the hermeneutic interpretation of textsŽ (Dunne, p. 126). In fact, Abizadeh proposes that there is a structural parallelŽ between phron sis and rhetoric in the work of Aristotle. In Abizadehs interpretation, then, not only Ciceros but also Aristotles work would support the claim that narratives transmit phron sis . What persuades is not the phronesis and real ethos of the speaker but the phronesis embodied in the argument itself,Ž argues Abizadeh. The author draws extensively on parallels between Aristotles treatment of rhetorical and phron tic practices. According to Abizadeh, Aristotle invests rhetoric with the propensity to yield correct judgments.Ž Abizadehs interpretation draws on the similarities between the argumentative process in both types of deliberation,Ž namely the one oriented by phron sis and the one that follows correct rhetorical procedures. If Abizadehs interpretation is correct, then also virtuous practices can be transmitted through the narratives that we embody and reproduce. Bent Flyvbjerg coins the expression progressive phron sis Ž to emphasize the contemporary character of the conceptŽ once it includes considerations of power. Flyvbjerg acknowledges Max Webers concerns with the expansion of instrumental forms of rationality in the organization of governance. He also takes inspiration from the work of Michel Foucault, as it develops a critique of the concrete practices and social technologies through which instrumental rationality has come to dominate our lives. Along these lines, Flyvbjerg sees the potential of phron sis to orient forms of sustainableŽ (p. 17) development. Fundamentally, he offers methodological guidelines

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377 for a social science inspired on phron sis . A focus on concrete cases, interpretive practices, normative discussions, agency, history and stories, context, and dialogue, characterize his proposal of practicing social science as public philosophy (pp. 2022). Flyvbjergs purpose, however, transcends academia, as he poses the need for embedding our practices of governance with the guidance of phron sis . To the extent that instrumental forms of rationality orient the organization and performance of policing in liberal democracies and the need for discretionary power is denied, the present discussion of phron sis applies to it. Prudential policing Good examples are born with good education, good education from good laws, and good laws from those quarrels which many condemn without due consideration. (Machiavelli, Discourses on Livy , p. 184) Phron sis is being revisited by a few academics and policy scholars. But its present, at once plural and ethical recuperation still awaits to inform our practices of governance. The endeavor is as promising as especially complicated by the fact that phron sis is not techne (Gadamer, pp. 317-8) and cannot be reduced to a set of transmissible rules. Dunne praises Gadamers elaboration on the non-technical character of phron sis . Phron sis is not techn; it cannot be used, but is instead a form of experience (Dunne, p. 127), that has a non-technical but practical and hermeneutic character. In turn, the organization of the modern, professionalized, police, responded to the same rationalistic impulse of engineering that James Scott recognizes in the organization of modern urbanism and agricultural production. The technologies that support the police effort are those of bureaucratic apparatuses identified by Weber, which claim themselves politically neutral. As in other areas of societies, also with respect to policing these assumptions are proving to be dubious. In turn, the denial of

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378 discretion has led us to the excesses and violence of which are capable those trained under the auspices of police professionalism. How can we make phron sis inform practices as bureaucratized as policing? In reference not to policing but to other set of paradigmatic disciplinary practices of modernity, schooling, Dunne suggests the existence of some fertile ground. With Gadamer and Habermas, Dune recognizes the stubborn resistance of practical forms of lifeŽ (p. 379). The example he uses to illustrate is how amidst one of the most bureaucratized, standardized, and regulated realms of modern societies, schools, teachers still manage to create a humane space for their pupils learning.Ž Whereas the space for such exchanges in citizen-police encounters is extraordinarily limited„for both their use of coercion and their dominant authoritarianism„it has not disappeared altogether, as some passages of interviews reproduced in the previous chapter suggest. Still, what could phron sis , of a conservative character, add to practices that are already conservative? Not only for its secular association with the monarchy and the Church prudence tends still to be linked to conservative thought. Charland identifies two other reasons for such association. If prudence may be seen as reactionary,Ž Charland says, is because of being a hermeneutic practiceƒproceeds within a tradition,Ž and an anti-utopian model of practical governanceŽ that prioritizes compromise over radical breaks (pp. 265-6). But there seems to be no reason why these emphases should lead to conservative positions, for traditions can be chosen and compromises can have a progressive character. Besides, whereas phron sis was classically conceived as a quality of elites, it may be worth noticing that this tradition developed out of ancient democratic and republican contexts. The rhetoric dimension that prudence acquires with the Romans links the practice to

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379 deliberative bodies and horizontal practices of power. If phron sis involves a conservative moment, this may well be a conservative moment of a non-conservative politics. If good judgment and prudence characterized good governance for the classics, there seems to be no reason why they should not characterize also democratic governance. If there is one thing on which students of prudence seem to coincide is on the perennial value of Aristotles understanding of phron sis . Among other things, Aristotle sees phron sis as a type of political science and deems it necessary to govern. After Foucault and Agambens insights and the literature on police and administrative discretion, we have seen that those who govern us are not only parliaments and presidents. Closer to us, on a daily basis, state administrators and police officers make decisions directly affecting our lives. Police officers, moreover, have both the authority and force to take our freedoms and even life away. I have depicted them as our little sovereigns.Ž If we recognize that the real scope of governance is more expanded than what our concepts in political science tell us, then should not we extend Aristotles insights on the need for phron tic statesmen to those who police us? Aristotle, we saw, is clear on that nobody who does not already have good habits is prepared to develop virtue. The police are already everywhere trained to be prudent in the narrow and opportunistic sense described by Hariman (p. 15). Despite their general denial of being political themselves, police forces play a key role in providing governments with stability. Police officers soon learn the need to accommodate the politics of the governing party and local dominant groups. When an Argentinean police officer explains that We are the Godfather of the governor,Ž he is embodying the core role of the police according

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380 to the narrative of the reason of state. While these prudentia l practices inform the rationale of survival of the nation state, they do not necessarily serve the people or the democratic component of the state. Generally conservative, police prudent loyalties tend to accommodate all forms of regime for the sake of the state and not of its people. And this is precisely one of the problems posed by the challenge of making policing democratic. In this version, prudence may appear Machiavellian but has lost indeed Machiavellis historical and ethical concerns. For Machiavelli himself does not identify with the whatever prince is in power but with those who deserve to be princes.Ž But more genuinely Machiavellian forms of prudence also appear among police officers. For example, we see it in the Uruguayan commissioner to whom„in the best classical tradition„his knowledge of ancient history served to judge that it was not right to ally the military dictatorship. Or we can see it in the Argentinean police officer who questions the rush and little care with which projects of democratic police reform have been implemented in the country, ultimately failing and leaving progressive members of the police exposed to arbitrary sanctions. Aristotelian, Ciceronian, and Machiavellian insights on prudence seem all suited to inform the exercise of police discretion in a sound manner, if only redefined by the concern„generally postmodern but originally Machiavellian„of exercising power that respects plural normative frameworks. The question that remains is how to promote phron tic practices in a large scale. The possibility, I think, arises from an education that develops the potential of rhetoric to transmit and enlarge experience.

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381 Arendt addresses the need for the enlargement of the mindŽ through imagination in Kants philosophy of judgment (Arendt, 1982, pp. 42-3) to allow one to explore the perspectives of others. Accordingly, Martha Nussbaum calls for an education that recuperates the value of stories to develop our civic imagination.Ž What narrative modalities do best serve this purpose? It is half the art of storytelling to keep a story free from explanation as one reproduces itŽ; Benjamin describes good stories for their openended character. In contrast to information, which imposes rational explanations, storytellers narrate the most extraordinary things, marvelous thingsƒwith the greatest accuracy,Ž without offering explanations. It is instead proper of storytelling to leave interpretations open to the listener or reader, in such a way that narrative achieves an amplitude that information lacks,Ž says Benjamin. If one understands, as I do, that discretionary power defines the core of police power, then narratives seem especially suited to spread phron tic skills and reflexive patterns of practical judgment. For an Analytics of Discretionary Judgment: Assessing Abductions Michael Brown identifies two main types of judgment involved in policing: value and reality (empirical) judgmentsŽ (p. 26). Whereas value judgments codeŽ events from a normative perspective, reality judgmentsŽ connect events. But, are not judgment already present in the descriptions made by police officers? Is not the perception of a group of teenagers as members of a criminal gang or as school students, or of a woman as a girlŽ or as a prostituteŽ already informed by some form of judgment? Everytime we act, speak, think, or merely perceive, we are exercising some form of judgmentŽ (Thiele, 2005, pp. 5-6). Thiele notices the simultaneous philosophical and banalŽ character of the faculty of judgment, which he suggests arises from its pervasiveness in our lives. Judgment occurs in different levels or dimensions. Following

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382 Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Thiele highlights the patterned, organized, character of sensory perception. Although the images, sounds, smells, flavors, and textures that we perceive strike us as raw,Ž they have already been subjected to some form of preliminary judgment, says Thiele, which is necessary to make senseŽ of them. The holistic character of our perceptions (i.e. tree, car, lake) presupposes making judgments about the worldŽ (p. 6). Thus, Thiele notices, while judgment appears as a top political quality and a moral virtue, in the form of implicit judgmentsŽ it also inform the transformation of the data of raw sensationsŽ into meaningful wholes that organize our perception. The judgmental process involved in perception may appear counterintuitive. However, exposure to optical illusions and to cases in which implicit interpretive conventions fail brings the need for judgment to the forefront and makes it explicit. In cases like these we have to decide, for example, what constitutes the background and what the foreground of a figure. Most of the time, however, perceptual judgments are automatically made. Both cognitive psychologists and students of semiotics agree that some form of judgment is involved in the organization of perception. We do not first see, then define, we define first and then seeŽ: Scott Plous (1993) resorts to these words by Walter Lippmann to head his discussion of the psychology of judgment (p. 15). Plous presents experimental evidence supporting that people selectively perceive what they expect and hope to see.Ž Prior beliefs, expectations, desires, context, and emotional attachments, which psychologists refer toƒas cognitive factorsŽ (p. 18), influence our ways of seeingŽ things, argues Plous. Whereas experiments inform psychologists on the judgmental character of perception, students of semiotics examine whether and how we

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383 use signs to refer to somethingŽ (Eco 1999, p. 12), which tie into the social modalities of (re)production of meaning. Perception is interpretiveŽ; says Charles S. Peirce (5.184),23 the founder of semiotics. Peirce represents the processes involved in perception as a series of hypothetical judgments.24 The hypothetical character of perceptive judgment can be seen in practices as simple as characterizing the color of objects. Whereas identifying colors seems generally straightforward, the judgment involved in its identification comes to light in those occasions when there is no agreement between observers (Peirce, 5.186).25Umberto Eco argues that for Peirce, perceptual judgment already appears as an inferenceŽ (Eco, 1999, p. 63). Peirce sees that the steps involved in perceptive judgment coincide with a form of logical inference first identified by Aristotle as apag g (Eco, 1983, p. 203) and renames it as abduction or abductive judgment.Ž26 Peirce defines abduction as the process of forming an explanatory hypothesisŽ (5.171). Peirce, credited as the first philosopher who gave abduction a logical formŽ (Aliseda, p. 47), first presents abduction in a syllogistic form. Let us reproduce his classical example on some white beans thrown on a table that are close to a bag 23 Peirce, Charles Sanders. Abduction and Perceptual Judgment.Ž Lectures on Pragmatism,Ž The Collected Papers Vol. V: Pragmatism and Pragmaticism . Peirce is generally credited as the philosopher who gave abduction a logical formŽ (Aliseda, p. 47). 24 He uses the expression perceptive judgments.Ž 25 Whereas daltonic individual s perceive colors in a radically di fferent manner than the rest of us, agreement on the definition of colo rs of things is not as straightforward as we like to think. The judgmental character of perception comes to light whenever there is disagreement, and something as simple as attributing colors to objects constitutes a cont ested everyday practice. 26 The standard modern translation of epag g  by induction does no harm, provided that we distinguish carefully between what Mill and other modern writers ha ve meant by induction and what Aristotle meant by epag g . Epag g involves inference but is more than inference; it is rather that scientific method through which the pa rticular varying impure or distorted exemplifications of a single form can be understood in terms of that formŽ (MacIntyre, p. 91).

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384 containing beans. Peirce shows that a deductive form of reasoning about the scene would go: All the beans from this bag are white (Rule); These beans are from this bag (Case); These beans are white (Result). Here, the first proposition (major premiss) is universal and has the form of a law or rule; the second proposition (minor premiss) establishes a relation between the beans on the table and those in the bag; the third proposition (conclusion) extends the property of the beans in the bag (whiteness) to those on the table. Peirce shows that an inductive form of inference would rise instead from the sample of beans to the population of beans in the bagŽ (Flach and Kakas, p. 5) and would end with the formulation of the rule: These beans are from this bag (Case); These beans are white (Result); All the beans from this bag are white (Rule). But induction is only one of the two forms of non-deductive inference that Peirce identifies. The second one is abduction. It runs this way: All the beans from this bag are white (Rule); These beans are white (Result); Therefore, these beans are from this bag (Case). In this abductive form of inference, the first proposition (major premiss) is universal and has the form of a law or rule; the second proposition (minor premiss) describes a case or empirical sample, and the conclusion proposes a hypothetical link between the sample to the rule. Peirce sees these three forms as distinctive and credits each one with a specific function. As he puts it, Deduction proves that something must

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385 be; Induction shows that something actually is operative; Abduction merely suggests that something may beŽ (Peirce, 5.171). Whereas deduction subsumes individual cases under a rule and induction universalizes from individual cases, abduction searches for patterns and laws and suggests possible explanations. Peirce (5.181) describes abductive judgments as coming to us like a flash. It is an act of insight, although of extremely fallible insight.Ž As a type of critical thinking,Ž abduction allows us to assess the plausibility of hypotheses for understanding particular cases. They provide us with a quick preliminary selection of hypotheses. Abductive inferences permit us to choose between many competing hypotheses a few ones that seem to explain the phenomenon better. It is through abductions that trillions of trillionsŽ of logically possible hypotheses are reduced to only three or four (5.172). Abductions help us to find possible explanations for a case. They lie behind our primitive classificationsŽ that lead us to seeŽ things and phenomena in a certain way (Bertilsson, pp. 2, 1). However, since abduction establishes not certainty but possibility only, the relations stated may be wrong. As Margareta Bertilsson comments, abductions provide us with a clue to reality, but it always remains on the level of a may-beŽ (p. 6). Yet Peirce credits abductive inference as the only logical operation which introduces any new ideaŽ (5.171). Peirce argues that abductive forms of reasoning lie behind learning, understanding, and all scientific discoveries, and that all hypotheses posess an abductive structure (5.171-2). His concept of abduction has been extensively employed in the fields of epistemology and artificial intelligence (Flach & Kakas, 2000; Samaja, 1994, p. 82).27 27 Peter A. Flach and Antonis C. Kakas examine how changes in Peirces treatment of abductive inference have resulted in controversies surrounding abductio nŽ (p. 5). Flach and Kakas distinguish this, earlier,

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386 But the Peircian insight reaches far beyond the field of science, as abductions populate our daily life. Many of the so-called deductions of Sherlock Holmes are instances of creative abduction,Ž argues Umberto Eco (1983, p. 215). The capacity for medical diagnosis and the elaboration of good historical explanations indicate abductive skills (1983, p. 205). Furthermore, the forms of perceptual judgment described at the beginning of this section seem not different from these discussed after Peirces concept of abduction.28 Perception is also semiosis and therefore already abduction,Ž says Eco (1999, p. 64). Abductive capacities express a holistic form of understanding that varies with expertise and training, or with experience„as Aristotle would say. But if perceptual judgments have an abductive, hypothetical, form, what does limit the range of possibilities into just a few (at the most)? Peirce describes this ability to select possible explanations as insightŽ or instinctŽ to delimitate what is reasonableŽ (5.173). But what appears as reasonableŽ emerges from a societys common sense, for we treat the perceptual experience in cultural termsŽ (1999, p. 253), as Eco puts it. Narratives, in  syllogistic Ž approach to abduction from a later,  inferentialŽ one . Thus, through the years, Peirces syllogistic approach to abduction shifted to the identification of deductive, indu ctive, and abductive forms of reasoning with the three stages of scientific inquiry: hypothesis generation, prediction, and evaluationŽ (Flach and Kakas, p. 6). Peirce placed abduction, which consists of the elaboration of hypotheses, at the beginning of the process. Once the scientist chooses pr eliminary hypotheses, predictions are derived from a suggested hypothesis by deduction; and the credib ility of the hypothesis is stimulated through its predictions by inductionŽ (Flach and Kakas, p. 6). 28 Peirce in fact judges the interpretativeness of the perceptive judgmentŽ as the extremestŽ or the limiting caseŽ of abductive judgments (5.185). Abductive in na ture, perceptive judgments seem to be more pervasive and entrenched in our life than other forms of abduction, though, for whereas an abductive suggestion ƒ is something whose truth can be questioned or even denied,Ž Peirce ar gues that we cannot form the least conception of what it would be to deny the perceptual judgmentŽ (5.186).

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387 other words, narrow down the number of plausible interpretations for any specific situation. Let us revisit the scene that opens my study: a police officer sees a group of young male individuals hanging out in the street, interprets what he or she sees, and acts in consequence. None of the interviewees whose words support the present study ever suggested for example that those teenagers could be either aliens or foreign enemies preparing an invasion. Any police officer arguing this way would have his or her mental health under suspicion, simply because these are not stories supported by our shared common sense. But the possibility that these youths are criminals seems not absurd instead, for it is an entrenched narrative and because we do seeŽ episodes of crime.29Our assumptions or beliefs seem to delimitate the range of our perceptive judgments. This way, before a group of teenagers hanging out at the corner, police officers tend to consider just a few possibilities (i.e. innocent youths, criminals, lazy teenagers) and not others. And this is also why the view of the same sky led Ptolemy and Copernicus to seeŽ different things and to support respectively the central position of the earth or the sun. As all other forms of abductive inference, perceptual judgments draw heavily on a societys dominant beliefs. But societys beliefs are always also political. If disagreement about color are generally harmless (unless the object in question is a stoplight or a banner with obvious political connotations) a police officers perception of an individual as a respectable citizen or as a criminal, or of a situation as normal or as dangerous, relies heavily on 29 The reader may object that while crime is a real threat, alien invasion is not. But, would not someone warning about planes crashing deliberately against th e World Trade Center have looked like crazy before September 11, 2001?

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388 moral and political assumptions. The discretionary judgments of those invested with police power, as well as the patterned decisions they make on the spot, suggest that perception is also shaped by moral and political assumptions, which are transmitted by common sense. Judgment, Thiele says, invokes common senses and valuesŽ and seek to convince others appealing to societys shared experienceŽ (p. 38). Thiele describes common sense as a perceptual and, in limited fashion, calculative ability that facilitates our quotidian navigation of the worldŽ (2005, p.72). Common sense arises from peoples shared experience. What we call common senseŽ in fact results from a multiplicity of common sensesŽ (p. 72) that provide us with instantaneous insight on how to judge, decide, and act. Granted, we cannot become good practical judges nor refine our capacity for abductive inference, without relying on certain shared beliefs. The fact that beliefs are commonŽ seems to make them more reliable. And most of the time they are. But, as beliefs on the adequacy of the use of torture or ordails to obtain the truth, or widespread racist assumptions suggest, common senseŽ beliefs have also legitimized the cruelest deeds in human history. Arendt (1978, p. 209) would probably judge these episodes as signs of a loss of common sense, which, accompanied by a noticeable increase in superstition and guillibilityŽ constitute for her almost infallible signs of alienation from the world.Ž But this difference between common sense and nonsense is hard to tell from the inside an alienated community. Precisely commenting on Arendts work, Ronald Beiner highlights her concerns with the growth of meaninglessnessŽ and the atrophy of judgmentŽ evidenced during the 20th century (Arendt, 1982, p. 95).

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389 Gramsci is perhaps who best grasps the ambiguity and dangers involved in common sense, the traditional popular conception of the worldŽ (p. 199). Dominant forms of common sense mirror the prevailing philosophical conceptions of a time, argues Gramsci. Those ideas permeate language, common sense, and religion. Through them, we receive a conception of the world mechanically imposed by the external environmentŽ (p. 323). But Gramsci argues that common sense is a double-edged sword. Although its collective character may appear reassuring (p. 325), it is also fragmentary, incoherent, and inconsequentialŽ (p. 419). At least in a rudimentary way, common sense applies the principle of causality,Ž says Gramsci, by identifying the exact cause, simple and to hand, and does not let itself be distracted by fancy quibbles and pseudoprofound, pseudoscientific metaphysical mumbo-jumboŽ (p. 348). These features made common sense perform a progressive role confronting the medieval principle of authority. However, Gramsci recognizes the common sense of todayƒa much more limited intrinsic merit,Ž for its conformism resists also critical thinking, which he would experience with the rise of fascism. Common sense constitutes a hegemonic device. Together with language, religion, folklore, and popular culture, common sense permeates the perspectives and worldview of the ruling classes, says Gramsci, and tends to make domination invisible. It is not the class per se, however, but its organic intellectualsŽ (p. 12) that elaborate and diffuse hegemonic representations. For Gramsci, the terrain where hegemonic and counterhegemonic forms of perceiving the world confront each other and become victorious comprises the entire society. Schools, clubs, churches, the press, popular literature, are just some of the trenchesŽ that articulate class and political struggle (p. 235). Hence,

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390 Gramsci assimilates the project of engaging in a critique of common sense to good sense,Ž which he counterpoises to the former (p. 326). Good sense seems to result from subjecting common sense to a critique. This is why, if we cannot but rely on the common sense that supports our perceptive judgments, we should also train ourselves in developing a critical awareness on the limits of common sense. Let us recapitulate: so far, this section has presented us with the argument that the perceptions that inform both police officers and our own practical judgment are not immediately given to us but are already elaborated by a process that involves judgment. Thiele refers to it as implicit judgmentsŽ; cognitive psychologists study it, and, a century ago, Peirce identified it as perceptual judgments,Ž which for him constituted a case of abductive inference. Different explanations, philosophical, psychological, and semiotic, agree that perception results from a mixture of our direct experience and the interpretive frameworks that we receive from our culture, which it seems we can call common sense.Ž If common sense often offers good guidance, it is also misleading, for it acritically reproduces biases, prejudices that express the (politically) dominant views of society. Peirce suggests a link between beliefs, habits, and action. Beliefs, he says, appease the irritation of doubt,Ž and by so doing lead to the establishment in our nature of a rule of action, or, say for short, a habitŽ (1878). Different beliefs can be distinguished, he suggests, by the different modes of action to which they give rise.Ž Thus, if assumptions and beliefs received from our culture constrain our abductive inferences (morally and politically), including our perceptions, they may also promote the acquisition of habits. We already saw how important the acquisition of the right habits are for the practice of

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391 phron sis . But the establishment of wrong habits due to prejudistic beliefs may be especially problematic for the practical judgment of those who exercise power, especially of police officers, who have been endowed with the monopoly of the use of force in society. Perhaps then all of us, but more so those in charge of such impressive power should be trained in subjecting the beliefs that frame our judgments and perceptions to a systematic critique. Umberto Ecos criteria to distinguish between forms of abduction according to the degree to which they are codified by common sense beliefs of our culture offers a productive way to start critically assessing our perceptions and judgments. Eco identifies four main degrees of codification, which result in what he calls hypothesis or overcoded abduction,Ž undercoded abduction,Ž creative abduction,Ž and meta-abduction.Ž Ecos distinction suggests the level of reification of the beliefs determining our abductive inferences and practical and perceptual judgments. Let us see how he defines them. The first form, overcoded abductionŽ or hypothesis, occurs when the law or category that subsumes the case or phenomenon at hand is given automatically or semiautomaticallyŽ (1983, p. 206). Eco offers the example of hearing a sound and decoding it as the English word manŽ. Although we do this automatically, if by chance one is living in an international milieu in which people are supposed to speak different languages one realizes that the choice is not radically automaticŽ (p. 206), he says. By identifying an element as belonging to a certain category, what we feel is automatic consists instead of a process involving many hypotheses and assumptions. Overcoded abductive inferences populate the universe of what police officers call police instinct,Ž

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392 which according to the prevailing culture and common sense, lead them to identify situations and classify individuals into categories. The second form that Eco distinguishes is undercoded abduction,Ž arises when it is not clear which rule better subsumes our case, and the rule must be selected from a series of equiprobable rules put at our disposal by the current world knowledgeŽ (p. 206). The process at hand consists of the elaboration of a hypothesis, of whose validity we cannot be certain, but that needs to tested. Previous assumptions influence our choice of a few explanations that we judge plausible (p. 207). This is for example the case of when a police officer faces a situation that she or he judges unclear and decides to intervene to gather more information, or when he or she enters a crime scene and starts elaborating hypotheses. Creative abductions,Ž the third type identified by Eco, poses us with a situation in which the law or rule to account for our case must be invented ex novoŽ (p. 207). As an example, Eco refers to those completely new explanations that Thomas Kuhn assimilates to scientific revolutions. Finally, Eco conceives of meta-abductionsŽ as a situation in which a case forces us to put into question our very repertoire of explanations, as it occurs when we confront a phenomenon or being that radically questions our forms of categorizing. The case of the platypus (Eco, 1999), the case of Herculine Barbin discussed by Michel Foucault and William Connolly (2002, p. 27) exemplify the disturbing potential of cases that do not fit. Eco also refers to the detective novel as a genre that deals with meta-abductions. This classification of abductions according to their degree of reification proposed by Eco has heuristic value to examine how critically these forms of inference inform our practical and perceptual judgment.

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393 The forms of practical judgment that Michae l Brown identifies in the exercise of police discretion seem to be structured in this abductive way. First, abduction connects objects with concepts, or codesŽ them (Bertilsson, p. 7) with the normative consequences described by Brown (p. 26). Second, abduction links objects and events between them, where the occurrence of one event (a sign) conjectures the (possible) presence of other events (signs)Ž (Bertilsson, p. 7). Browns description of reality judgmentsŽ connecting events coincides with the latter, yet the codificationŽ of what one perceives also involves a (hypothetical) claim over reality. A great number of abductions, either those that code or connect objects or events, are over-coded, meaning that we make them without thinking much, as these associations are pre-defined for us by the culture to which we belong. We accept them unconsciously as facts,Ž they populate everyday life and arise from common sense. The more embedded we are in a culture, the more interpretations we can take for grantedƒ[and] the more are the over-coded responses ordering human intercourseŽ (Bertilsson, pp. 7, 8). As Arendt argues, these cliché, automatized, forms of interpretation serve the socially recognized functionŽ of protecting us from having to think of all events all the time. But they also constitute prejudices. And, as it was discussed in the previous chapter, lack of thought may lead to overlook forms of domination and injustice for they appear as naturalŽ in our societies. The semiotics of prejudice varies across societies. Education needs to put in question local social stereotypes, which work as overcoded abductions, to the extent that these stereotyped forms of perception may result in unjust and discriminatory treatment of others. In any case, a prudentia l exercise of discretionary power seems to require

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394 revisiting naturalized or over-codedŽ forms of perception in dimensions that are particularly sensitive in each society. If, for example, prejudices are linked to raceŽ and space (Sigal and Sarfatti Larson) in the United States, and to classŽ in most countries of South America, these subjects should be opened to critical consideration. A systematic exposition to stories should serve ones engagement with decoding our reified perceptual judgments in areas that are politically sensitive. This is especially relevant for those who are charged with policing society. Conclusion: Democratizing Discretion? There seems to be three main strategies to cope with discretion: first, to simplify the legal system and make it more consistent; second, to reduce the scope of discretion by making policy mandates more specific while replacing human intervention with automated processes. Yet, as with placing cameras in street intersections to chase those who cross with the red light, automation does not eliminate discretion but displaces it to a higher level. The third strategy consists of democratizing uses of discretion by both making citizens participate in their ow n policing and enhancing the capacities for practical judgment of all those invested with police power. The democratization of policing calls for advancing on all three grounds, if especially on the last one. The concept of phron sis was introduced and discussed in account of this last perspective, for discretion will stay with us. Laws and rules may diminish and constrain, but never eliminate, the discretionary power involved in policing. It arises from the universal nature of law and the need to match it with particular circumstances. The acknowledgment of a wider range of police functions suggests to Goldstein the need for the police to become more independent of the criminal system as well as to make the police accountable through the political process, to the communityŽ (p.

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395 11).While Goldstein claims that the need for police discretion has been widely acknowledged in the field of police studies in recent years, this shift has not been echoed, at least not yet, by the treatment of policing in studies of democratization. Nor seem the police eager in new democracies to debate their use of discretionary power and proposals for training that their constituencies may find more in agreement with democratic practices and human rights. No doubt, legal reform„and the enforcement of new laws„is needed to open up police institutions and especially police schools to the public and public debate. But if the discretionary power involved in policing is sovereign, then its democratization cannot rely on legal reform only. As Aristotle argues, good laws are fundamental for the habits they foster, but it is these habits and not the letter of the law what influences the exercise of discretionary, practical, judgment as a moment that occurs outside the law. One of the problems that discretion makes us confront is how to enforce the law over the enforcers. Discretion may seem a merely practical skill needed to administer the law. But applying the law is not a techneŽ (Gadamer, p. 317). There is more to discretion, as this chapter attempted to show. How can we foster the exercise of police discretion as a series of phron tic practices? Even though Aristotle established that phron sis can be only acquired by experience, the Romans proposed that it could be also transmitted through rhetorical forms embedded in speech and literature. Thus, we saw that the imitation of virtuous characters and forms of speech and the study of history became for centuries the practices through which prudence was expected to develop. The present offers additional hints in

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396 support of the Roman insight, which suggest the potential of stories for reproducing experience that was reviewed in chapter 4. If one understands, as I do, that discretionary power defines the core of police power, then narratives seem especially suited to spread phron tic skills and reflexive patterns of practical judgment. The development of a civic imagination,Ž as Nussbaum puts it, through exposure to literary works and other narrative sources appears as a prerequisite for enlarging our understanding and the possibilities for practical judgment with it. What narrative modalities do best serve this purpose? It is half the art of storytelling to keep a story free from explanation as one reproduces itŽ; Benjamin describes good stories for their open-ended character. In contrast to information, which imposes rational explanations, storytellers narrate the most extraordinary things, marvelous thingsƒwith the greatest accuracy,Ž without offering explanations. Benjamin explains that it is proper of storytelling to leave interpretations open to the listener or reader, in such a way that narrative achieves an amplitude that information lacks.Ž These characteristics seem to make storytelling an activity suited to develop reflexivity and critical thinking. Practically, thinking means that each time you are confronted with some difficulty in life you have to make up your mind anew,Ž says Arendt (1978, p. 177). Would not then the recreation of civic forms of storytelling contribute to the development of more thoughtful citizens, better prepared to judge and decide on the meaning and best forms of maintaining a democratic order? This is the path explored in the present study. The diffusion of narratives that promote autonomous judgment, equality and recognition, that focus on problems instead of on people, that advance a complex understanding of the law, that lead one to interpret

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397 what is not regulated as inclusive, seem to be able to inform inclusive and democratic discretionary practices.

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398 CHAPTER 7 CONCLUSION No government in world history has been a government of laws and not of men. None can be. Discretion, even unguided discretion, is an absolute necessity for every legal system. What we have and what we have to have is a government of laws and of men. (Davis, K.C., p. 58) My study has linked the future of democracy to the democratization of policing. The power involved in practices of policing, I have argued, has a governing character. It displays the sovereign core of the state, especially through performances of police discretion. Discretionary power is the power that emerges in the interstices of the law. It pervades the performance of policing and acquires especial visibility in citizen/police encounters. Despite requiring the exercise of practical judgment, these encounters are not generally acknowledged as such. The exercise of policing tends to be interpreted as the technical application of norms. The present study questions this understanding, and argues instead that we should approach citizen/police encounters as the most concrete manifestation of governance that recreate sovereign power on a micro and daily basis. The historical, empirical, and theoretical exploration of the concept of policing and police discretion in previous chapters has exposed police discretion as the core of police power, and this in turn as a core dimension of state power. Along these lines, I have argued that the forms of organization and performance of policing play a major role in the definition of the form of government or regime. Especially challenging, the performance of policing fuses the exercise of executive, quasi-legislative, and quasijudicial forms of power. This hybrid character of police discretionary power puts in

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399 question the republican division of powers. Besides, the performance of policing at the capillary terminal points of the state recreates forms of governance that may or may not coincide with the form of regime defined by the other institutions. In the perspective presented in this dissertation, it seems clear that the acknowledgment of the role of policing in governance should lead to revisit our understanding of political regimes and forms of government. I have shown that police power possesses specific features that need to be considered by those engaged with the advancement of democratic forms of power. Along these lines, my argument has presented a critique of dominant conceptual frameworks in current studies of democratization. My study has questioned the prevailing understanding of the rule of law and the police. The first tends to appear as a synonym with democracy, as unproblematic, and is presented almost as a panacea. The second tend to be conceived as an auxiliary tool of the military or the judiciary. I have questioned this conventional subjection of policing to the military or to the judiciary. If policing may certainly made depend on the military, this reliance must be examined case by case and should not be assumed. I hope to have made a case against the systematic neglect of administrative and police forms of governance in the literature on democratization, that recognizes only a few exceptions ( i.e. Suleiman). There is no technical solution to bridge the gap between universal laws and particular situations. Discretionary judgment is called for, not only in the obvious case of the courts but fundamentally in everyday life, in which laws and rules are applied by administrative and police bodies. While discretion pervades the administrative apparatus of the state, it is more extended and its effects reach more dramatic contours among the

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400 police. I have presented the forms of practical judgment involved in the exercise of police discretion as the kind of judgment that makes one sovereign. In the situations in which police discretion arises, such as in occasion of citizen/police encounters, cultural representations and narratives seem more influ ential than laws. Narratives transmit patterns of practical judgment, either in the frozen form of dogma or as the recreation of practices of critical thinking. The patterns transmitted through narratives determine our possibilities of thinking, judging, and acting, as they do with theatrical characters. The practical dimensions of narratives calls for further examining how tropes, forms of enunciation, and the types of stories they convey influence the exercise of discretionary power. We need to identify not only the ideas that people embrace but also how they inform practices. Far from denying the importance of the law, I argue for the need to acknowledge the puzzles posed by its administration. As Agamben has recently suggested, the application of the law cannot be reduced to either a technical nor a logical problem, but it recreates little trialsŽ (2005, p. 39). The latter is especially apparent in the problems involved in policing. The enforcement of the law allows for the police discretionary judgment, a power which they can use to enforce the law selectively or, paradoxically, to undermine the law that they are supposed to enforce. Among other things, democratizing policing challenges us with finding ways to enforce democratic laws and values among the enforcers. Police officers are precisely those to whom our societies charge with enforcing the law over citizens. I have argued that the discretionary power enjoyed by police officers constitutes a form of sovereign, absolute, power. Democratizing discretionary power amounts to the democratization of what remains unwritten and ties into what both Schmitt and Agamben

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401 define as the state of exception. How can we introduce democracy in these unregulated moments? How can we compel those in exercise of sovereign power to follow the law at the very moment at which their power appears absolute? These questions are better illuminated by the study of police discretion and the Aristotelian nuanced understanding of the law. A focus on discretion calls for a livingŽ understanding of the law that conjugates both the conceptual and practical aspects involved by the administration of the law (Aronson et al. ). Within the tradition of Western political theory, the Aristotelian understanding of law seems especially suited to explore some of the most challenging aspects of democratization once we take both policing and the exercise of discretion into account. Besides the formal aspects of the law, Aristotle also considers its unwritten dimensions and recognizes the importance of the personal element that modern liberalism tends to deny. His argument incorporates the need for equity and phron sis to compensate for the insurmountable gap between laws and the context of their application. If the gaps between the law and particular situations must be bridged in each case, then the tradition of phron sis , with its focus on producing the rights judgments what is to be doneŽ (Aristotle), seems particularly suited to inform discretionary practices. The Aristotelian pe rspective allows us to examine the performance of discretion as a constitutive part of the application of the law. Aristotle permits us to see that unwritten does not necessarily mean perverse. But it also predicates the development of virtue and prudence on the part of those charged with administering laws and rules. According to Aristotle what remains unwritten is, first, an excess of good and evil, and second, those practical rules that are necessary to accommodate the law to each

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402 particular situation. This realm seems to be constituted fundamentally by habits, which Aristotle deems essential to the acquisition of virtue, and„along the tradition of prudentia developed after the Aristotelian insights„also stories. My study suggests that narratives play a major role on how laws and rules are administered and in determining how the police act and exercise discretionary power. The recognition of the unwritten that accompanies the written law suggests that even the most democratic laws are going to be undermined if the realm of the unwritten remains organized under authoritarian auspices. I have shown that policing displays biological and moral dimensions. It is ambiguous. It may serve to feed or to annihilate. It does both. For these reasons, the present study has argued that the conditions of exercise of discretionary power in a plural society suggest the need for phron tic guidance. Along these lines, chapter 5 suggested the possibilities of classical and contemporary discussions of phron sis and prudentia to illuminate the problem of discretion as a governing practice. The search for cases of exercise of discretionary power in an inclusive and democratic manner, as does Honigs discussion of the case of Louis Post, constitutes an unaccomplished and necessary task that must be continued in relation to the police. Instead of assimilating discretionary power to arbitrariness and discarding it conceptually altogethe r while neglecting its dominance in daily life, we must discuss which forms of exercising discretion are needed in a democracy. Yet in most countries police institutions are like fortresses closed to public scrutiny. Argentina constitutes an excellent example of this impermeability. The pathological form of autonomy that the Argentinean police developed since the 1930s (Kalmanowiecki) makes very difficult even for the authorities to implement thorough plans of reform.

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403 However, the association between phron sis and democracy is certainly not Aristotles but arises from a critical re interpretation of his legacy and judges Aristotles aristocratic commitments a problem of ideologyŽ (Reeve, p. 195). In the perspective advanced in the present study, there seems to be no reason why Aristotles insights on phron sis cannot be reappropriated from a democratic normative horizon. But the normative framework of phron sis needs to be liberated from the Aristotelian ontology, which as Agamben shows, still haunts us and leads us to betray our explicit democratic commitments. As in other realms, then, the recuperation of phron sis to rethink of discretionary power in democratic settings needs to be informed by a critique of the classical Aristotelian ontology. Current discussions of phron sis (Dunne, Flyvbjerg, Gallager, 1993; Schmidt, 1995; Thiele, 2005) offer an adequate context for this at once theoretical and ethical exploration. On this basis, the main thesis advanced by this dissertation is that what regulates the unwritten is (the experience and habits embedded in) narratives. Narratives contribute to transmit and legitimize certain forms of practice. My study has drawn on the tradition that links the transmission of rhetorical and phron tic patterns, which was first developed by Roman thinkers such as Cicero and is being revisited in the present (Hariman, 2003; Thiele, 2005; Cape, 2003; Abizadeh, 2002). My study has offered a preliminary collection of stories on police power and discretion. I have argued that democratizing policing requires democratizing discretionary power and that the latter requires the support of narratives drawn from egalitarian and humanizing imaginary. My study also sought to delineate main features of the kind of narratives that foster wise practical judgment. I hope to have provided insight on the type of stories that can help turn

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404 practices of governance such as policing more democratic, as they were revealed by both interviews with police officers in Argentina, Uruguay, the Philippines, the UK and the US and insights drawn from the tradition of Western political theory. In short, I have made the case that the democratization of the use of police discretion is crucial for the democratization of policing, which in turn determines the future of democracy. Unless we advance toward the democratization of the power involved in policing, democratic regimes are going to be lacking in the most concrete aspect of governance that policing defines in everyday life. Although societies may decide to reduce the room for discretionary judgment of police and administrative bodies, it will not disappear. Thus, a main insight that results from the present study is the need for, first, acknowledging the governing aspects involved in policing, second, redrawing our understanding of governance and forms of regime along this recognition, and third, exploring different possibilities to inform the discretionary practices of those in charge of policing with the tradition of phron sis . The preliminary examination of police narratives in this dissertation suggests paths of further research, empirical and theoretical, as well as some practical suggestions. In what follows, I would like to point out main lines of further research as well as some recommendations that arise from my study. In relation to research, I hope to have made clear that policing needs to be incorporated to the study of democratization from a perspective that takes police discretion into ac count. Political scientists, especially students of democratization and political theorists, should engage in a systematic exploration of the role of policing in governance. As I see it, research needs to be done on identifying the place that policing occupies within the government and on its role in

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405 (re)defining forms of regime. Should further research support my argument that the discretionary power exercised in policing amounts to the exercise of sovereign power, the consideration of policing within the government would require a conceptual and practical redefinition of our understanding of political regimes. A more nuanced understanding of governance would turn visible dimensions of power that I judge key and that these days tend to remain in the shadows, to be marginalized or to be treated as insignificant. It is only by making these dimensions of governance visible that we can start a discussion on how to democratize them. If the discretionary aspects involved in policing expose it as a major dimension of government, then in principle its performance can be reorganized along democratic lines. What is not clear yet is the meaning of a democratic policing, which awaits theoretical and practical development. This seems another reason why we should turn policing into a major theme in both democratic theory and comparative studies of democratization. More empirical research is needed to map, identify, and classify the stories and images that inform police practices, which in their discretionary dimension resemble what I think we can call practices of exception. Narratives on policing and uses of discretionary power require to be studied in a comparative perspective that draws simultaneously on more and less democratized scenarios. This research should advance, ideally, along the lines opened by Terrill, Pauline, and Manning, to assess the relations between tropes, stories, and practices. My study agrees with the studies of culture on the overwhelming authoritarian character of policing across democracies. I also endorse the influence of national patterns of political culture identified by Leslie Anderson (2002) and Ruth Stanley (2002). Yet my

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406 findings also put in question the weight of national tradition highlighted by these studies. For narratives on policing circulate through global networks of training and popular culture. At the end, authoritarian tropes and forms of reference to the other are not that different across the cases that I have considered in this study. What varies is the elements defining police officers common sense. Thus, for example, narratives that interpellate the other as a citizen are dominant in Uruguay and marginal in Argentina. But they do exist. I do not deny that this dominance obeys to broader cultural patterns. What concerns me is how to change them. As I see policing as the performance of acts of government, I also see that the narratives articulating these practices are key to define the ultimate authoritarian or democratic character of the regime at the micro level. In any case, it seems necessary to continue doing research on how tropes and images work to diffuse specific forms of seeing, judging, and acting among individuals. In methodological terms, the analysis framed in terms of narratives questions the definition of individuals as units of analysis. I tried not to tell a story of good and bad police officers. I sought instead to expose how different narrative strands coexist within each individual. Narratives reveal the presence of ambiguous, contradictory, and overlapping tropes. Democratization seems to have resulted so far in a mixture of authoritarian and democratic narrative elements among those in charge of policing. This overlap appears as a symptom of thoughtlessness and lack of judgment that has ultimately authoritarian effects. The less thoughtful the process of their incorporation, the more disorderly their overlap. And the higher risk for the citizens who are subjected to the power of such a thoughtless individual. I hope to have shown that even democratic values that are imposed on people as dogma result not into democratic but in

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407 authoritarian practices. Even within authoritarian traditions such as the one that prevails in policing, other stories are told. Chapter 5 sought to delineate main characteristics of democratic storytelling, namely their organization around tropes of equality, citizenship, a common humanityŽ (Monroe), the rejection of violence as a legitimate tool for conflict resolution (Leslie Anderson), the legitimization of accountability for those who hold power, the critique of all dogmas and the promotion of thinking and autonomous judgment. It seems also clear that the paradigm of punishment discussed by Shearing and Johnston is ultimately incompatible with a democratic polity. The logic of governing individuals through the use of force, pain, and executions is merely instrumental and has no ethical ground. The paradigm of problem-solving that focuses on conflict, regulation, and negotiation, appears instead as the one that should be embodied by policing in any current democratic society. My exploration showed that these elements also exist among police officers in Argentina. There is a need to continue working on their identification. It would be especially relevant to trace comparisons on whether there is any difference on how narratives influence the practices of those who are and those who are not invested with the exercise of legitimate force in society. Approaching police discretion as a case of sovereign power, the examination of different ways of representing the exercise of this power by those charged with policing can provide insight on alternative forms (re)defining and maintaining order. My study also suggests the need to carry both theoretical and practical research on the possibilities of the tradition of phron sis to inform discretionary judgment and practices of policing. It seems hard to argue against the need for phron sis to illuminate the practices of those put in charge of administering the law at the capillary terminal

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408 points of the state, as for example in citizen/police encounters. However, both the character of phron sis and the possibilities for its diffusion open a whole series of problems. Let me just to mention three of them. First, phron sis involves a normative dimension which in Aristotle seems not problematic as it is oriented by the knowledge of eudaimonia . But agreement on values is not a salient feature of our contemporary societies. Thus, the guidance of phron sis to exercise discretionary power challenges us with exploring further what constitutes the ground for normative consensuses to orient practices in a plural society. Phron sis is not technical knowledge and cannot be reduced to it. This poses different challenges for societies in which those in charge of governing were conceived of as a reduced elite, which were classically informed by the tradition of phron sis , than for a mass society that aspires to be democratic, moreover if my argument of the governing character of policing is considered. Clearly, this problem opens questions about education. But, and this is just a third problem, Aristotle is clear that only those who already have the right habits can acquire virtue in general and phron sis in particular. Whereas Aristotle allows for flexibility in the administration of the law in such a way that justice is perfected and not undermined, he is inflexible about the conditions that individuals must exhibit to be able to exercise sound practical judgment. The development of virtue, he argues, requires the previous acquisition of good habits. If this is the case, then there is no hope to inform discretionary judgment with phronetic skills among those individuals in charge of policing whose practices are not already informed by them and that, I argue, are required by the democratization of policing and the future

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409 of democracy. Presented in these terms, the argument seems recursive, and suggests that neither prudent judgment nor democratic habits can be learned. Still, Aristotle allows for the possibility for an argument to alter what has long been absorbed by habit (Reeve, p. 55; Aristotle, ). It is a regrettable fact that discussion and instruction are not effective in all cases, he says, yet this formulation admits that arguments and discussion can contribute to advance virtue among Politics individuals. Similarly, in his , Aristotle also acknowledges that men do many things against habit and nature () if they are persuaded to do so.1 As historical experience exposes in the case of societies that have shifted from authoritarianism to democracy, entrenched habits are difficult to replace with new ones. But the endeavor, if difficult, is not impossible. Rather, it comprises what we call learning. Comparative evidence shows that people learn to be democratic despite facing harsh conditions, or even being favored by them. Dodd and Anderson (2005) examine the ongoing transformation of Nicaraguan politics in this light. Citizens may learn civic values and participatory skills in many different ways (p. 34). Findings by the authors question canonical beliefs in studies of democratization that pose rigid structural limits for people to become democratic. Instead, Anderson and Dodd point to the possibilities opened by crises, revolutions, and episodes of collective trauma as conditions that may favor an accelerated process of learning democracy. Their view challenges deterministic positions on democratization (Lipset, Huntington, Putnam) and supports the prospects for change. The case of present-day Uruguay and its police gives also support to Anderson and Dodds hypotheses. If evidence shows that people can learn democracy, why should 1 These Aristotelian insights suggest a parallel between rhetoric and phron sis , as Abizadeh argues and thinkers such as Cicero developed after Aristotle.

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410 not we extend these expectations also to individuals charged with policing society? This is at least what the data gathered for my study suggests. Still, if both democratic commitments and prudentia l elements do appear among police officers, it is evident that they remain marginalized. We need to continue identifying them and promoting their circulation throughout society. These questions tie into practical problems of education and diffusion. Neither phron sis nor civic education allow for merely theoretical considerations, however, and this is the moment for me to suggest some recommendations. In what refers to the police, recommendations face the basic, concrete, obstacle of access to both police institutions and police schools. Considering the pathological forms of autonomy enjoyed by the police in many countries (Kalmanowiecki), these are a few suggestions that arise from my study: As Aristotles discussion of the importance of habits to the acquisition of phron sis suggests, the differential aptitudes of individuals must be taken into account for a careful selection of those who are going to be authorized to use force to administer the law and maintain order in the streets. As this commissioner from Uruguay puts it, The secret lies in the selection of recruits. We must be very refinedƒWe must find the ways to find those who have prudent and balanced minds. And this is something that peopleƒOne is born with that, or at least these qualities are acquired at a very early stage in life through education, either in the context of the family or at school, but it is something very difficult to provide to anyone after individuals are 20 years old. (UR2) Whereas criteria of selectivity are already in place among police forces, they may be not be optimal, as cases such as Jordan vs. the City of New London suggest (Hughes).

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411 Robert Jordans application to enter the police was rejected because his IQ was too high.2Worse, he lost his case for discrimination before the courts, for too intelligent individuals are not supposed to stay with the police. Instead of selectivity criteria and courts sustaining these beliefs, the key governing role involved in policing requires the recruitment of outstanding individuals as well as an outstanding education. Whereas this would necessarily demand bigger budgets and more spending, by not doing we are tacitly deciding to expose ourselves to authoritarian, abusive, and violent police practices. Of course, neither more resources nor the recruit of talented individuals guarantee their prudent and sound exercise of discretionary power. Nor do simple changes in the curriculum avoid the emergence of new dogmasŽ in replacement of old ones. The democratic imaginary is not safe from being converted into a set of principles that are incorporated in a dogmatic fashion, yet its transformation into dogma risks to turn it authoritarian. Whereas these are challenges posed by the education of citizens in a democratic polity, the education of those citizens that in our societies specialize in policing seems more problematic, at least in those cases in which it occurs in isolation from the rest of the citizens. In countries such as Argentina, police schools resemble Erving Goffmans total institutions,Ž where young cadets live during weekdays and are made to perform militarized rituals. The learning process and experiences to which these youths are exposed is not articulated with the intellectual and civic process of learning in college. And it is extremely difficult for outsiderŽ citizens like myself to assess those 2 Also see Robert Jordan, Plaintiff, -VsCity Of New London And Keith Harrigan , Defendants. Civil No. 3:97cv1012 (Pcd). United States District Court For The District Of Connecticut. 1999 U.S. Dist. Lexis 14289; 15 Bna Ier Cas 919, August 29, 1999, Decided; September 2, 1999, Filed,Ž and Robert Jordan, Plaintiff-Appellant, -VCity Of New London And Ke ith Harrigan, Defendants-Appellees. No. 99-9188 United States Court Of Appeals For Th e Second Circuit 2000 U.S. App. Lexis 2 2195, August 23, 2000, Decided.Ž Accessed through Lexis-Nexis , June 2005.

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412 institutions for their opaqueness and lack of access to the citizenry.3 If the degree of isolation of police schools from the rest of society varies across countries and regions, in all cases it appears still excessively high for a democratic society. Reforming police schools, rules, and regulations to integrate those in charge of policing with the rest of the citizens, and to make them think of themselves as citizens, seems crucial. Thus, two different but complimentary sets of recommendations apply. The first, formal, refers to those cases where access to police institutions has been gained by the democratic state; the second, to cases where police forces still mostly appear as a frightening and threatening caste. In the first case, the education of those in charge of policing should incorporate a core concern with forming individuals to exercise practical judgment along democratic normative and legal standards. First, I see no reason why the civic and humanistic education of those in charge of policing us should be left to police officers themselves instead of beings subjected to the standards that regulate college education in each country. Granted, policing involves a series of techniques and specific knowledge, and nobody will be probable better qualified to design a curricula for the transmission of technical knowledge than experts. But why should the ethical, civic, cultural, political, and historical background of an individual charged with policing be any different from the one of his or her fellow citizens? Both in the Athenian democracy 3 During my months in Argentina during 2003 while carrying out my fieldwork, I could never interview police cadets. My attempts to visit the Ricardo Falcón School of the Federal Police were blocked through a bureaucratic exchange of e-mails and phone calls that were first not returned and then abruptly terminated by a police officer on the phone. My goal of interviewing young police recruits seemed to prosper in Entre Ríos, where the police school had been transferred to the provincial University (UADER) and I obtained authorization of the Presid ent of that University, Engineer Luis Améri co González, to visit the school. However, his authorization to visit the school and interview with police cadets was blocked by the authorities of the school, who sent me to request author ization from the police chief of the province (?). Of course, this path resulted in the same senseless bureaucratic labyrinth of the first case. These time consuming puzzles and bureaucratic traps involved in acce ssing the police did not allow me to visit other police schools, where I could have (hopefully) obtained auth orization to talk with their students.

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413 and the Roman Republic policing was a citizen task, so should it not be performed along citizen commitments in our current democracies? As one of the Argentinean interviewees says, policing requires a humanistic background. He is right. Policing equates governance. Both activities require good judgment, as pointed out by classical political thinkers. The codes of laws and rules shaped under a liberal inspiration make clear what we can or cannot do. But they cannot regulate what is left unwritten. The latter can only be the terrain of gaining experience in moral judgment. As Aristotle argues, we acquire it through experience. As contemporary theorists point out (Abizadeh, 2002; Thiele, 1999, 2005) we can acquire it also through narratives. A humanistic formation, based on the critical exposition to classical works of literature and philosophy, should be incorporated to the education of all those that our socie ties invest with authority to police others. In short, if the specifics of policing may require taking classes apart from other students, when it comes to classes on social sciences, philosophy, history, or humanistic subjects should be taken together with college students from other fields. Evidence gathered by Morgan et al. sustains my claim. Forms of pedagogy that foster reflective thinking and sound practical judgment such as those advanced by Morgan et al. should be core to the formation of those that different societies charge with policing us. Second, how should individuals be better prepared to exercise practical judgment? Nussbaums insights on the role of literature in forming the civic imaginationŽ (1997, p. 88) apply to all members of the community. However, those who are charged with power such as the one involved in policing, who judge and decide on crucial matters on a daily basis, should be especially prepared to exercise their imagination in understanding other people. Concerned with enlarging our imagination in such a way that it allows us to

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414 cultivate humanity,Ž Nussbaum proposes to incorporate a two-semester philosophy requirementŽ to undergraduate studies in the United States. As she puts it, the study of philosophy would serve to prepare young citizens to participate in the give and take of reasoned argument, offering reasons rather than slogans and showing respect for the minds of those who differ from themŽ (Nussbaum, 2002, p. 511). If I do subscribe to Nussbaums preoccupation, theoretical and empirical evidence gathered in the present study suggests that perhaps literature is better suited than philosophy to the development of the civic imagination referred by Nussbaum. As it was mentioned before, the long tradition of prudentia l knowledge suggests rhetorical possibilities for the transmission of prudence. It seems to be stories more than rational arguments what enable us to recreate forms of sensibility and practical judgment. Different voices (Benjamin, 1936; Monroe, 1996; K. Smith, 1998; Thiele, 1999, 2000, 2003, 2005) convey on the potential of storytelling to foster the emotional capacities that promote intersubjective recognition, the recreation of experiences by others, critical thinking, and autonomous judgment. In the selection of stories, perhaps we should also consider Benjamins insights on the more plastic character of oral storytelling than of the stories contained in novels. If police schools are still impenetrable, police forces are not willing to embrace democratic values, and the democratic state is too weak to penetrate them, then what can we do? Here, I see myself forced to resort to a Gramscian theme. We need to gain the hearts and minds of those in charge of policing us. Otherwise, in places such as Argentina, democracy will be a privilege for the few. If police schools and police stations remain closed to us, the path to diffuse narratives and tropes on policing that promote democratic practices should be open. Public schools, the media, the press, art, provide

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415 alternative spaces to rethink of the kind of policing needed in a democracy. If we do not get police officers to interpellate us democratically, we should begin by interpellating them as citizens. That is to say, if the author itarianism entrenched in their institutions prevent police officers from accessing other narratives on the exercise of power, we should provide them with those, as a form of activism. The risk for us is how to dispute the circulation and legitimacy of authoritarian narratives on policing and power without resorting to the Platonic solution: censorship. For opening processes of reflexion will begin with the release of stories that most of us do not want to hear. In that moment, we must avoid turning authoritarian ourselves. A major blind spot in the present study relates to the area of private policing. The global dimension and scarce regulation of private forms of policing turn it sometimes even more influential in the governance of peoples daily lives than state policing. The spread of mass private propertyŽ (Shearing and Stenning) and the bubbles of governanceŽ referred by Shearing and Wood around the world has put in question the Weberian characterization of the state as enjoying the monopoly of force. In an increasingly privatized space, control is maintained by architecture, the technology of surveillance and informal social mechanismsŽ (Reiner, 1992, p. 80). How do narratives and the aesthetics of securityŽ (Caldeira, 2000) inform the practices of those who surveil us through the market? The more social territories are subjected to privatized forms of policing, the more the need for us to study these hybrid forms of governance. To date, most research done on the subject seems to rely on secondary data (Shearing and Stenning, 1983; Shearing and Johnston, 2003; Volkov, 2000; Diamint, 1998; Mehlum et

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416 al. 2002). Understanding the new forms of governance that subject our lives poses the need to go further to capture the narratives informing these practices. Other limitations that I faced in my study were the impossibility to demonstrate empirically the correlation between narratives with practices. That I could not do it does not mean that it cannot be done, however. It is just a question of access to police institutions. The groundbreaking study done by Terrill, Pauline, and Manning (2003) pushes further the possibilities of the research focused on culture. I must rely on their correlations until police institutions in new democracies such as Argentina allow researchers access to test these hypotheses. Yet my own analysis suggests that empirical studies should identify both themes and narrative strands that support authoritarian and democratic practices. Tropes, images, forms of enunciation, and the types of stories they convey. The latter defines the next step in my own research, in which I seek to collect more interviews with police officers in different countries to dissect their narrative components. It would be important also to integrate diverse techniques of narrative analysis. The use of software of network or semantic analysis seems promising for the amount of data that it permits one to analyze. These methods should be incorporated to the analysis of how forms of judgment foster by different narratives shape action and the use of discretionary power by police officers. If the political is the collective activity of imagining, debating, and advancing new worlds and forms of order, exclusion ultimately coincides with the asphyxiation of the political by policing and administrative apparatuses. Furthering democratization demands maximizing inclusion. As I see it, it is our task to imagine forms of inclusion, citizenship, and policing that are not based on the exclusion of others. This task appears to me as a

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417 major challenge, in turn theoretical and practical, for both policing and the political to turn our societies progressively more democratic. From seminal studies of totalitarianism such as Arendts or scholarship on state terror and repression in South America and elsewhere, we have learned that discursive forms of dehumanizing certain peoples generally precede and prepare their exclusion and legitimize the use of violence against them. These forms circulate through stories that spread certain images and tropes. My study departed from the assumption that the opposite is true, or that the discursive inclusion of certain peoples fosters equality and the recognition of rights. Hence, as Dahl points out in relation to democracy and Shearing in relation to democratizing the police, the circulation of stories that promote the inclusion of more beings along more dimensions of life and the political seems to be a prerequisite of thicker forms of democracy. The diffusion of these stories, images, and tropes, seems particularly important among those who are in exercise of discretionary power such as the police. Police and the political both originate as practices articulating forms of exclusion and inclusion in the polis. The political and its policing always involve risks. What I have tried to show, following classical and current philosophers, is the possibility of improving our chances to become more democratic by embracing narratives that promote intersubjective recognition, equality, and prudent forms of administering both the law and sovereign power. Democratic politics can maximize our creativity in imagining worlds where all forms of life are worthy and where all voices count. Radical democratic politics should ultimately turn dwellers into citizens and consider the possible interests of those to come. Still, the fragility of life will c ontinue challenging the political with the protection and preservation of the members of the Polis.

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418 As Agamben shows, the exercise of police power recreates the division between human and inhuman, worthy and unworthy through micro-interventions. As he presents it, this performance is antagonistic with a truly democratic polity. In fact, Agamben insinuates the impossibility for the constitution of a truly democratic polity, for equality has been for centuries predicated on the basis of excluding the unequal. The present study seeks to challenge this insight by arguing for the need for us to develop forms of recognition that are not based upon exclusion. Still, there is no flawless technical solution to the challenge of defining and maintaining order by the demos. No Platonic response will prevent us from having to confront the challenge of (re)defining and maintaining a form of political order we deem legitimate. Responses are both contingent and political, and the decision that considers all forms of life worthy of protection is still a sovereign decision that still entails the administration of life and that is still consequently biopolitical. I attempted to show that we cannot avoid making such decisions. What we can do instead is to make and advance these decisions in inclusive and democratic ways. It is through maximizing inclusiveness and democratic procedures that the power involved in policing and governing our polities can be exercised in a benign manner. The diffusion of both democratic narratives and the practices inspired by them is necessary to advance this project. The future of democracy requires us to advance in this direction, both in conceptual and practical terms. We must try.

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419 APPENDIX A DATA COLLECTION The empirical materials supporting this dissertation consist of face-to-face semistructured interviews with police officers. All interviews were anonymous. Interviews were held in Argentina, Uruguay, and the Philippines during 2003. A first, preliminary interview was carried in the US. Liwliwa Mala bed held the interviews in Manila between November and December 2003. I interviewed s in different points of Argentina and Uruguay between July and December 2003. Interviews with British s were collected by Dr. Ian Loader between 1998 and 1999. They belong to his project Policing, Cultural Change and Structures of Feeling in Post-War England.Ž I accessed the transcript thanks to the generous authorization of the UK Data Archive (Economic and Social Data Service, ESDS) at the University of Essex. The questionnaire in English and Spanish is attached. The sample is purposive. With inspiration on Glasser and Strauss concept of theoretical sample,Ž I attempted to collect the mo st diverse narratives, which reflects in the seven different geographical locations of the interviews in Argentina (Buenos Aires, Corrientes, the Buenos Aires province, Entre Ríos, Misiones, Río Negro, and four different regions of Mendoza). In turn, interviews in Buenos Aires city were held in the wealthiest and the poorest neighborhoods (i.e. Recoleta and the area of Puente La Noria). The incorporation of interviews with Uruguayan, Filipino, one American police officer, plus of the transcripts of those held with British officers by Dr. Loader serve to map a wide spectrum in terms of years of service, gender, level of education, location, cultural and ideological traditions, and experiences with democracy. All the interviews are anonymous. They include female police officers (2 from Argentina, 3 from the Philippines, and 3 from the UK), retired officers (2 from Argentina, 13 from the UK). No rigorous sampling can be implemented to select interviewees unless one has special access to the institution. Despite counting with some institutional sponsorship, obtaining interviews with police officers was extremely difficult in Argentina. Subaltern personal alleged not to be authorized to give interviews, even not in private. For months I waited for authorization to visit two police schools, with no positive results. Despite my informative requests, my guarantees on the anonymity of the interviews, and my credentials, I was treated with gener alized suspicion by most police officers. In Argentina there seems to exist a feeling among police officers that researchers are members of the yellow press in disguise. Besides, there is no tradition of police studies as it exists in countries such as England or the United States. Therefore, as most researchers, I had to rely on the good will and trust of individual for them to concede me interviews. The same applies to Montevideo and Manila. Argentinean interviewees belong to Federal (10) and provincial (27) police forces. Among the latter, six are from Entre Ríos, 5 from the Buenos Aires province, ten from Mendoza, two from Corrientes, three from Misiones, and one from Río Negro. Only 2

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420 were women. Not only it was difficult to get permission for the interviews. It was even more intricate to access subordinate personnel and women. With inspiration on Glasser and Strauss concept of theoretical sample,Ž I tried to collect the most diverse narratives, which reflects in the 7 different geographical location of the interviews in Argentina (Buenos Aires, Corrientes, the Buenos Aires province, Entre Ríos, Misiones, Río Negro, and the four different regions of Mendoza). The incorporation of interviews with Uruguayan, Filipino, and American s, plus of those held with British officers by Ian Loader, serve to map a wide spectrum in terms of years of service, gender, level of education, location, cultural and ideological traditions, and experiences with democracy. All the interviews are anonymous. They include women police officers (2 from Argentina, 3 from the Philippines, and 3 from the UK), retired officers (2 from Argentina, 13 from the UK). My strategy to get interviews consisted of appealing to the channels that should be open to any citizens to contact the personnel in charge of policing. I sent emails and made phone calls introducing myself and my project to different police authority, and soliciting them authorization to hold interviews and visit police schools. With the exception of a few high-ranking officers, committed with police reform, who helped me, the opaqueness of police forces in Argentina was striking. Despite counting with some institutional sponsorship, obtaining interviews was extremely difficult in Argentina. My informative requests, my guarantees on the anonymity of the interviews, and my credentials, did to diminish the generalized suspicion with which I was treated. Subaltern personal alleged not to be authorized to give interviews, even not in private. For months I mailed offices, made phone calls, and waited for authorization to visit two police schools, with no positive results. The opaqueness and secrecy of Argentinean police forces, twenty years after the recovery of democracy, is concerning. The experience with the Uruguayan authorities was in the antipodes. I went to the Uruguayan Consulate in Buenos Aires, where I was received by the Cultural Aggregate, by then Dr. The office of the Ministry of Interior immediately answered to my request. Interviews were arranged for me with the Secretary of Human Rights, who received me generously in Montevideo. I was promptly and cordially received by police chiefs and commissioners, who contacted me with colleagues. I was taken to visit Montevideos 911 service. One of the police chiefs gave me a list of all Montevidean police stations with their addresses and the names of the commissioners in charge. He signed the list, and invited me to go and visit all of them on his behalf. The interviews with British police officers were held between 1998 (13) and 1999 (29). Most interviewees are from Manchester, one from West Midlands, and another one from the Metropolitan Police. There are fifty three men and five women. Being a foreign national was not an obstacle to access Uruguayan police officers. Argentina Tape recorded: (ARG0) Male, Commissioner (Interview held in 2001) (ARG1) Male, Commissioner (ARG1) Male, Officer (ARG3) Male, Officer (ARG4) Male, Officer

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421 (ARG5) Male, Officer (ARG6) Male, Retired Commissioner (ARG7) Male, Retired Officer (ARG8) Male, Officer (ARG9) Male, Officer (ARG10) Male, Commissioner (ARG11) Male, Officer (ARG12) Male, Commissioner (ARG13) Male, Officer (ARG14) Female, Officer (ARG15) Male, Officer (ARG16) Male, Commissioner (ARG17) Male, Officer (ARG18) Male, Commissioner (ARG19) Female, Officer (ARG20) Male, Commissioner (ARG21) Male, Sub-Officer (ARG22) Male, Commissioner (ARG23) Male, Commissioner (ARG24) Male, Officer (ARG25) Male, Commissioner (Firefighters) (ARG26) Male, Commissioner (ARG27) Male, Officer Off the record: (ARG28) Male, Commissioner (ARG29) Male, Commissioner (ARG30) Male, Commissioner (ARG31) Male, Commissioner (ARG32) Male, Officer (ARG33) Male, Officer (ARG34) Male, Officer (Arg35) Male Officer (2001) Philippines (PHIL1) Male, Senior Inspector (Captain) (PHIL2) Male, Police Inspector (PHIL3) Male, Police Inspector (Lieutenant) (PHIL4) Female, Police Inspector (Lieutenant) (PHIL5) Female, Master Seargent (PHIL6) Male, Police Chief (PHIL7) Male, Instructor at the Police Academy (PHIL8) Female, Police Senior Inspector (Captain)

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422 Uruguay (UR1) Police Chief (UR2) Commissioner (UR3) Commissioner (UR4) Commissioner (UR5) Commissioner (UR6) Commissioner United Kingdom (UK19) male, Superintendent (UK20) male, Superintendent (UK21) male, Chief Inspector (UK22) male, Inspector (UK23) male, Inspector (UK24) male, Inspector (UK25) male, Inspector (UK26) male, Inspector (UK27) male, Inspector (UK28) male, Sergeant (UK29) male, Sergeant (UK30) male, Sergeant (UK31) Retired Police Chief (UK32) Retired male, Superintendent (UK33) Retired Police Chief (UK34) Retired Male Inspector (UK35) Retired male, Inspector (UK36) Retired male, Inspector (UK37) Retired male, Inspector (UK38) Retired male, Inspector (UK39) Retired male, Sergeant (UK40) Retired male, Sergeant (UK41) Retired male, Sergeant (UK42) Retired male, Constable (UK43) Retired male, Constable (UK44) Female, Police Chief (UK45) Female, Superintendent (UK46) Female, Inspector (UK47) Female, Sergeant (UK48) Female, Constable (UK49) male, Police Chief (UK50) male, Inspector (UK51) male, Chief Constable (UK52) male, Chief Constable (UK53) male, Chief Constable (UK54) male, Chief Constable

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423 (UK55) male, Chief Constable (UK56) male Chief Constable (UK57) male, Chief Constable (UK58) male, Chief Constable

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424 APPENDIX B. ARGENTINA, GREAT BRITAIN, URUGUAY, AND THE PHILIPPINES. ORGANIZATION AND TRADITIONS OF POLICING Argentinean Police Argentinean federalism translates into the existence of one Federal Police plus twenty three provincial police forces. The effort of policeŽ includes also militarized police forces, the Gendarmerie and the Prefecture, which perform police functions on borders, ports, and airports. Both forces depend on the Ministry of Interior. Provincial police forces respond to their governors. The Federal Police are the police of the federal district, that is the city of Buenos Aires. They also maintain delegations throughout the nation that deal with federal crimes (i.e. drug trafficking). The Federal Police is an armed civilian institutionŽ that responds to the national executive power through the Ministry of Interior. It plays the role of both Security and Judicial police (Pelacchi, 2000, p. 826). Pelacchi highlights its civilian character, for it pertains to the city or its citizensŽ (p. 829). It first appeared as the police of Buenos Aires. With the transformation of Buenos Aires city in the federal capital of the country in 1880, the Federal Police was placed to the command of the President. Argentinean police forces were reorganized during the 19th century after centralized and hierarchical, French and Prussian, models of police. During the last third of that century, amidst the explosive growth of the Argentinean society, the police developed a tradition of repressive and violent treatment of activists and poor people. The latter crystallized into the systematic use of torture against common criminals after the first military coup in 1930 (Chevigny, 1995, p. 185). Meanwhile, the military exterminated those who dared to sustain internal frontsŽ opposing the hegemony of Buenos Aires (namely, the native Indigenous peoples, the nomad Gauchos, and caudillosŽ from the Provinces). The Federal Police was created in 1943. After the 1994 constitutional reform the city of Buenos Aires gained political autonomy. Claims have been raised since then to transforming the Federal Police into its c ity police. To date, the Federal Police continue being the leading police in the country. They are the only body entitled to perform police functions throughout the national territory. They perform functions of security to protect buildings and members of the government, represent Argentina before INTERPOL, play the role of fiscal police, carry tasks of intelligence throughout Argentina, and make individuals IDs and passports (Pelacchi, p. 850). Provincial police forces were shaped after the model of the Federal Police. With the exception of the police of Neuquén, all Argentinean police forces have parallel bodies of officers and sub-officers. As well as the military, the Argentinean police still keep this caste subdivision. It is not possible to cross from one category to the other and officers monopolize the higher positions, better education, and better salaries. One of the paradoxical outcomes is that patrol officers, the ones who are in touch with the

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425 population every day, are the least prepared, poorly equipped, and perceive the lowest salaries (Marteau, 2001). This unjust structure lies behind the perpetuation of episodes of abuse and violence by the police. Kalmanowiecki (2000, pp. 36, 46) maps the organization of an autonomous police apparatus in Argentina between the creation of an extensive information serviceŽ by President Agustín P. Justo after 1932 and its maturity under Perón. This period saw the emergence of a police and military apparatus that has remained conspicuously immune to any form of accountability and democratic controlŽ (p. 37). Kalmanowiecki points out the corrosive effects that systematic police infiltration in all types of civic and political organizations and social movements after the 1930s had for the fate of Argentinean democracy. Since then, preventiveŽ political policing made possible for governments to quell any attempt at collective actionŽ (p. 42). In 1953, Peróns Code of Police Justice placed the police outside civilian jurisdiction, giving it a especial legal status by which the discipline of police officers was established solely by the policeŽ (Andersen, 2002, p. 148). The Federal Police Special SectionŽ became the all powerful political police of the Peronist regime. Torture was semi-openly used. People detained by this Special SectionŽ were not reported. They disappearedŽ (p. 150). Soon, these same procedures would be turned against Peronists themselves. After the military overthrew Perón in 1955 and proscribed Peronism, police forces were transformed into quasi-military organizations. Members of the military were appointed as police chiefs. Andersen (p. 168) mentions that between 1955 and 1973, 11 chiefs of the Federal Police were militaryŽ and only one a civilian. As a result, most police officers think of themselves as non-civilians still today. The cold war era also fostered the militarization of policing with the introduction of the concept of internal enemyŽ inspired in the National Security Doctrine. French and American training in counterinsurgency prepared the terrain for the complete involvement of the Argentinean police in practices of state terror. The Peronist right organized a series of paramilitary, quasi -fascist, organizations in the early 1970s to combat the leftist wing of the movement. Perón returned to the country and became President for the third time in 1973. After his death on July 1, 1974, the right wing took over the government. With state connivance, former Commissioner Alberto Villar organized a political police para llel to and associated with the Federal Police that kidnapped and murdered hundreds of individuals. The so called dirty warŽ came out as a necessary result of those conceptions, and the practice of torture by the police extended to members of the political opposition during military governments. The peak was reached after March 1976, when the took over and the military dictatorship produced its most sinister and known work: 30,000 people disappeared.Ž The military regime used state institutions to destroy the lives of the citizens instead of protecting them. Throughout Argentina, police forces were militarized and incorporated to practices of state terror le d by the military. As one of my interviewees says, the military resorted to the police to chase members of the political opposition. The paramilitary squads, led by the military and integrated also by police officers and common criminals, kidnapped, tortured, and killed people. They stole their babies and property. They run hundreds of clandestine centers of detention and made people disappear.Ž They frequently resorted to the same methods to deal with conflicts between

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426 themselves. Tillys depiction of the blurry boundaries between state and organizaed crime find a suited illustration that period of Argentinean history, when state institutions became tools of organized crime. To reconstruct the law is not a simple task. Argentina then constitutes a privileged case of a new democracy with high corruption and a heavy heritage of police involvement in state terror. After 1983, many members of the police continued using the oldŽ methods even if the military dictatorship was over. After 1983, the government of Dr. Raúl Alfonsín organized CONADEP, a special commission of notables to investigate episodes of human rights. The government held especial trials against those responsible for kidnappings, theft, murders, and disappearancesŽ developed since 1976 to jail. The democratic government also faced the challenge to dismantle the legal structure that allowed the development of state terror, that is the separation between defense and public security or the demilitarization of public security. This process crystallized in the promulgation of a new Law of Defense in the late 1980s. This law explicitly excluded the military from internal security issues. In 1992, a different law allowed military intervention if called by the Pr esident in very specific situations (Sain, 2000). Demilitarization concentrated the efforts of reform during the 1980s in Argentina, whereas the need of transforming policing gained centrality only during the 1990s. Two decades of democratic life have opened up some possibilities for police reform. In 1985, Córdoba transformed its police by establishing a police body specialized in judicial affairs (Pelacchi, p. 797). Unfortunately, the possibility for reform tends to appear associated with crises triggered by scandals due to murders by the police. The case of Buenos Aires was not different. After the horrible murder of photographer José Luis Cabezas in January 1997 exposed the involvement of members of the Bonaerense,Ž by then governor of the Buenos Aires province Eduardo Duhalde was forced to revise his policy of security. A few months later, Arslanián was appointed in charge of the area. His ambitious project sought to decentralize the police and make it accountable to the people. It introduced different, regional, police forces, and created popular fora. The right wing within Peronism soon displaced him. After almost a decade, Dr. Arslanián has been called to office again. The prospects for the Plan are uncertain. Kalmanowiecki shows that police impermeability and opaqueness to citizen oversight and institutional command were built through decades. Even under democratic rule, the obscure proximity of the police to major episodes of political and street violence lead us into a dizzying labyrinth of victims and perpetrators involving policemen and military men, right-wing extremists and racketeers, thieves and thugs, bandits and roguesŽ (p. 39). These characteristics still prevail and make most projects of democratic reform, and controls, succumb. The last decade has seen a succession of crises of security that lead to abrupt oscillations between policies inspired in opposite understandings of public security. The lack of continuity of policies fosters distrust and the failure of all attempts of reform. The socio-economic context has changed, too. Argentina is not the middle classŽ country anymore. Decades of structural adjustment promoted by the military plus successive economic crises have led to the pauperization of millions of individuals. Entire generations among the excluded have not received a meaningful education. In a country in which jobs are still scarce, there are no jobs for them. As in other cases such as

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427 South Africa, democratization overlapped with a rise of poverty, exclusion, and crime in Argentina. These coordinates weaken the possibilities to democratize policing. Patterns of violence associated to policing show vulnerable social groups being stigmatized, harassed, and victimized through increasingly vigilante styles of policing. On the other hand police officers themselves turn to be progressively more exposed to violent crimes. Amplified by the media, translate into the generalization of a feeling of insecurity among the population. With the exception of a few groups of elite …such as the Halcón group of the Federal Police„there is a remarkable lack of adequate training of police officers. Poor training promotes police brutality and police officers more vulnerable to become victims of violent crimes. Besides, low salaries perceived by the personnel frequently force them to maintain simultaneously two or three jobs, what substantively diminishes their performance, or indirectly favor their engagement in corrupt behavior. These conditions are persistently indicated as major structural factors behind the bad quality of policing in the country, and all of them gain visibility whenever some especially horrible crime involving the police concentrates public concern. Despite the uneven conditions that vary across regions and the hierarchy, Argentinean police forces are stained by the suspicious of being corrupt, authoritarian, and violent. Police violence produced about a thousand murders by the police in the last two decades (CORREPI). Despite these records, peoples increasing concerns with personal safety tend to legitimize authoritarian mano dura,Ž narrative strands (McSherry, 2000).The police continued using torture in police stations, once again targeting supposed criminals and poor people …mostly poor young men. The idea that criminals must be chased without caring too much of juridical formalities as rights or legal process gained acceptance among the population. The arrival of law and orderŽ people into office by democratic means constitutes a landmark in this delegative democracyŽ (O'Donnell, 1994). Among the urgent challenges faced by President Néstor Kirchner, the 2003 Amnesty International Report demands the reform of the judiciary and the police.Ž The report refers cases of torture and illtreatment of detainees, including minors, in police stationsŽ in Argentina. It mentions the provinces of Mendoza, Santiago del Estero, and Buenos Aires. The latter also has one of the highest world rates of imprisonment without counting with adequate room to host prisoners. Many of the individuals imprisoned are minors, most of them wait for trial„frequently for years„and 5511 individuals, an astonishing number, are held in police stations (Verbitsky, 2005). The Argentinean province of Santiago del Estero gained publicity during 2003 when its comprehensive structure of espionage and political policing, murders, and disappearancesŽ led by repressors from the times of the 1970s military dictatorship became known. From time to time, police apparatuses in hands of local or provincial caudillosŽ commit scandalous political crimes. In the end, the bulk of the regulations on police forces and policing continue being basically those promulgated by military governments at the beginning of the 1970s. British Police Great Britain is the cradle of modern policing. The United Kingdom has fifty two regional police forces. They consist of counties and coordinated areas. The Metropolitan police patrols an area of 24km around London. Yet the city of London has its own police.

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428 All British police forces are led and controlled by elective Police Authorities that combine politicians, magistrates and independent members (Pelacchi, pp. 554-5). Both professionalized state police and private security companies first appeared in London in the 19th century. The main historical drives leading to the organization of the police by Peel were presented in chapter two. Local police magistrates and watches were reorganized throughout England after the Peelian model. The Chartist organization and the demands of the poor for citizenship led to the creation of statutory forces in Birmingham, Bolton and Manchester in 1839Ž (Rawlings, p. 79). Possibilities of creating new local police forces and of coordinating them were incorporated in the 1839 Act . This reformist drive sought to replace parish police forces with professionalized ones. But outside London, thirty years later local forces were still in control of policing. Under the inspiration of Chadwick, the police were also asked to do social work. But the authorities charged them with a moralizing crusade against the poor, which could easily turn into repression. In turn, the Metropolitan police was under criticism. For instead of preventing crime, it seemed to have turned into a param ilitary force of maintaining order for the government. The military was also eventually called to repress the people. Continuous episodes of repression of workers and the political opposition such as the Bloody SundayŽ in 1887 triggered debate. Despite the support of the middle classes, police abuse and harassment of the poor, which included arrests for mere ere suspicionŽ was rejected by many. With the second industrial revolution, the police became continuously involved in strikes and workers/factory owner struggles. The Victorian order was not inclusive. It led to the development of some political policing, which crystallized in the creation of the Special Irish Branch in the last part of the 19th century. Political policing soon expanded against industrial workers and foreigners (Rawlings, pp. 133-4). Change came in the early 20th century with a renewed focus on the prevention and repression of crime and the police involvement in social policy. It was the initiative of the liberal progressivesŽ (Rawlings, p. 119ss.). For if crime was caused by poverty, it was necessary to prevent the poor from falling into crime. Prevention instead of punishment, education instead of repression, food instead of misery, would serve to reform the poor and avoid revolution, they argued. They sponsored a shift from punishment to rehabilitationŽ (Rawlings, p. 132). Liberal progressiveŽ ideas gained ground in the first decades of the 20th century. They were hegemonic when WWII ended. They perfectly matched the arrival of the Welfare State. By that time, the police were still decentralized. The local character of most police forces made police officers vulnerable to having to perform whatever tasks with which local authorities charged them. The unionization of the police coincided with a claim toward centralization and professionalism, which of course also involved a claim for better and standardized salaries. Many decisions by the courts and declarations of the Home Office increasingly acknowledged police autonomy and their ultimate dependence on the Crown. However, the Government was reluctant to fund the police instead of the local powers. Centralization was not formalized. Still, the 1946 Police Act gave powers to the Home Office to proceed to fuse police forces (Rawlings, p. 137). In the 1960s, the idea of replacing small, local, police forces with larger ones was given impulse once again. Two reports examined the issue between 1960 and 1962 (p. 157). They gave ground to the

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429 1964 Police Act, which gave the Home Office a key role in leading local police and chief constables and gave the latter control over the former. In 1985, the Home Office was given also financial power to make changes in policing (p. 158). Despite the exuberant development and expenditure of the British Welfare State, crime rise in the 1950s and the 1960s undermined the legitimacy of liberal progressiveŽ assumptions (Rawlings, p. 143). Similarly, the 1960s exposed that the problem of poverty had not been resolvedŽ (p. 142). Moral explanations on the origins of crime began to gain ground again. The police were always able to fit in with both the liberalprogressive and the punitive approaches to crime control, so the shift from one to the other made little difference to themŽ (p. 156). Thatcher abandoned the liberal progressive agenda. She improved the salaries of police officers as part of a law and orderŽ strategy to support her dismantling of the British Welfare system and public owned companies. She attempted to turn crime prevention into everybodys business, everybodys responsibilityŽ (qtd. in Rawlings, p. 163). Community policing schemes were advanced in this context together with zero toleranceŽ ideologies. The high spending on policing miners strikes in the mid 1980s served Labour to criticize Thatcher (p. 187). But despite suffering the least from Thatchers adjustment policies, the police also lost resources. The conservative government responded with a managerial model that sought a more efficient use of resources. Police unions and chief started to complain. As several of the interviewees mentioned in chapter four say, they could not conceive of themselves as managers. They claimed that policing was a public service.Ž Other police officers adopted managerial discourses in their passage through colleges. As in other areas of policy, the New LabourŽ did not substantially change the Conservative agenda. Managerial models have continued to be promoted among the police in the last eight years. Toughening punishments, privatization, devolution to reduce spending, constitute a trend also in Britain. Strategies of crime prevention have advanced toward filling all corners of London with video-cameras and controlling individual behavior preventively. This is for instance the case of ASBOS (Anti-Social Behavior Ordinance) implemented in the 1990s, by which any kind of behavior that is seen problematic and conducive to crime is forbidden to the person. For example, a teenager may be forced not to hang out in a certain corner. ASBOs include minors. The transgression of the order leads to criminalization. Their efficacy and possible discriminatory nature creates polemic. Rawlings mentions that trust in the police has dropped since the 1950s (p. 165). This changes have been accompanied by pervasive discrimatory police practices against certain groups of people. Foweraker and Krznaric identify Afro-Caribbeans, Asians, Romanies, and homosexuals among those who more frequently become a target of police abuse and violence. They also identify a set of laws as the framework that allows the police to act without even reasonable suspicion of an offence having been committed (p. 330). Among these laws, they mention the Police and Criminal Evidence Act (1984)ƒthe Criminal Justice and Public Order Act (1994) and the Emergency Provisions Act (1991).Ž Still, there is a tradition of rejection for militarization that vindicates policing as a citizen activity. The 1929 report of the Royal Commission on Police Powers and Procedure vindicated the civilian character of policing. The Police of this country have

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430 never been recognized, either in law or by tradition, as a force distinct from the general body of citizensŽ (Rawlings, p. 135). Police in Uruguay Uruguay is a unitary state. It has one national police force. The Uruguayan police is under the authority of the Ministry of Interior. It is organized in nineteen districts that overlap with the countrys departments,Ž which is how Uruguayans call their provinces. The modern Uruguayan police was organized as early as 1874. Already in 1939, they made available to police agents a police handbook containing guidelines on laws and procedures. To date, they continued this tradition of making these handbooks widely available to ease the implementation of correct laws and procedures. The police in Uruguay is a civilian force. The law that regulates defines policing as a public service that seeks to protect individual freedoms and civil guarantees. Yet, as an aftereffect of the Cold War also Uruguayans suffered from authoritarianism. And the police was militarized. Militarization arrived in the 1970s, when the growth of the Leftist guerrilla Tupamaros triggered fears among the Uruguayan middle classes (Gillespie, 1986, p. 175). Tupamaros started as a protest group that questioned repression and the interference of the military in politics. Their protests gained popular support, so did their radical politics. Peoples support for Tupamaros made the police impotentŽ to do anything about them (Rouquié, 1987, p. 237). The confrontation turned more aggressive. While urban guerrillas battled police, the ruling Colorado party, backed by the military, responded to the spiral of violence by moving sharply to the rightŽ (Sondrol, 1997, p. 111). The escalation of this dynamics led to the legitimization of National Security schemes. The military took power progressively. As in Argentina, Chile, and Brazil, they took over in name of fighting subversion.Ž But in Uruguay they were brought into the scene by a civilian government. In 1973, President Bordaberry brought them informally power. The President sought to compensate for the loss of support from his party. In 1976, though, the military displaced Bordaberry through a coup and assumed open command of the nation. As it is mentioned in chapter four, about 50,000 individuals were arrested, some of them repeatedly, and 5,000 political prisoners were kept in prison for political reasons. Torture was widely applied to political prisoners. The proportion of imprisonment in Uruguay was the highest in the region (Gillespie, p. 176). Emergency measures became the order of the day in Uruguay. Whereas in Argentina the military organized clandestine centers of detention, in Montevideo the prison LibertadŽ became the scenario of the systematic torture of thousands of Uruguayans. Dozens of people were murdered. The theft of detainees property was legalized by the military. These brutal policies radically undermined Uruguayan democratic values. Rouquié highlights this dimension of democratic elite culture. It makes them different from other Latin American elites. Sondrol attributes this strong democratic consensus to the long experience of negotiation developed within a two-party system (pp. 112-3).1 1 The election of the Frente Amplio (Broad Front) alliance to the Presid ency last year seems to have broken the Uruguayan traditional two-party structure.

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431 However, the tradition of democratic commitments in Uruguay was much stronger than in the rest of the countries of the region. Uruguayan middle and upper classes needed less timeŽ than others to demonstra te their rejection of authoritarianism and military tutelageŽ says Rouquié (p. 398). Uruguayans deep commitment to democracy became evident. The military, also formed in a democratic tradition, called a referendum in 1980 to consult the people on their continuity. Voters overwhelmingly rejected them. Since then, they had to prepare to leave. Democracy was restored in the mid 1980s. A special law was passed in 1986 to amnesty members of the police and the military who took part in practices of state terror during the 1970s. A referendum held in 1989 achieved to avoid special trials to judge the military as in Argentina. In the last decade, Uruguayan police forces have embraced community policing and problem-oriented policing schemes. They are open and accountable to the public and see themselves as citizens. In 2003, they were chosen in polls as the institution that Uruguayans trust the most after the Catholic Church. They exhibit these records, as well as their record of learning democracy, with pride. According to all standards, the police in Uruguay are civilized. They rarely resort to violence. However, they are indicated for harassing poor people whom they think are associated with crime, especially in poor areas of Montevideo (Brinks, 2004, p. 14). Problems involving the police also appear in some cases of corruption, bribery, and involvement of police officers in robberies to banks and smuggling. Widespread commitment to the law among Uruguayans and an efficacious system of administration of justice keep these problems under control. However, many still believe that Uruguayans are yet to solve the wounds from the past, when one out of five adults were held in police stations during the military dictatorship and members of the political opposition were kidnapped, tortured and made disappear.Ž Filipino Police Filipino police forces are organized in thirteen major districts. Subjected to a secular history of foreign invasion, colonialism, and violence, where Spanish hegemony gave rise to American invasion, the Philippines was a militarized society, literally under occupation. It went from Spanish to American subjection in 1901. Colonialism gave rise to nationalist, revolutionary, movements. 600,000 Filipino died under American occupation. After independence, in 1953, a presidential system similar to the United States was implemented in the country. It lasted until the early 1970s. This experience with democratic institutions distinguishes the Philippines. Nationalist and revolutionary movements inspired the organization of guerrilla groups. The Communist New Peoples Army (NPA) has been active since the 1960s. The 1970s saw the appearance of Muslim separatism. They also organized guerrillas, the Moro National Liberation Front (MNLF) and other minor groups. The government has been fighting guerrillas since then. Authoritarianism developed in the Philippines under civilian sponsorship with Marcos in the 1970s. He brought the military into politics as a support to his regime. He also reformed the police. Until his government, the Philippine Constabulary was the institution charged with coordinating the effort of policeŽ in the country. Policing was completely decentralized, it was in charge of local police forces that resorted to the

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432 constabulary in case of major disturbances. In the 1960s, a National Police Commission was established to oversee the professional formation of police officers. The extreme decentralization of the police and their local character favored their use by political bosses as political and private armies. The 1973 Constitution issued the national integration of more than 1,500 local police, jail, and firefighter forces. The Philippine Constabulary and Integrated National Police were placed within the military structure of the country. They were charged with crime prevention and the maintenance of public safety. In fact, the Philippine Constabulary specialized in the investigation of serious crimes and more complex cases, while the Integrated National Police took charge of minor crimes, traffic, and public safety. Both the Constabulary and the Integrated National Police are organized in thirteen major regional commands. The Constabulary has seventy-three provincial commanders, whose districts amount to 147. Both forces shared headquarters in Metro-Manila, which includes thirteen municipalities. Marcos fused local Filipino police forces and made them a part of the military. In 1986, Marcos was overthrown, and a democratic transition started. Yet the countrys geography, its ethnic diversity, and the existence of guerrilla and paramilitary groups create obstacles for the consolidation of democracy. For the Filipino weak state has trouble imposing authority in an archipelago of thousands of islands. Recurrent denounces of abuse and corruption led the Filipino government to introduce a significant police reform in 1991. In that year, the Philippine National Police was transformed into a civilian force. The force was transferred from the military to a civilian organism within the government. The National Bureau of Investigation would support the effort of police at the national level. In an attempt to enlarge the state capacities of policing, a presidential decree authorized villagers in the barangaysŽ to administer justice regarding petty crime.2Despite all these reforms, the police in the Philippines continued being accused for abuse and corruption. PNP is frequently indicated as responsible for bribery, abuse, and extra-judicial executions. In 2000, President Estrada, a former movie star, was impeached a year after having been elected, under accusations of corruption. One of Estradas main electoral slogans was to cleanŽ the police and to lower the number of extortive kidnappings that continuously threaten the population. Italy, so the joke goes, has its Mafia, Japan has its yakuza and the Philippines its police force. So persistent is the reputation of the country's police for corruption and other forms of criminality that, whenever a new police chief takes office, he routinely promises to clean up the force.3After Estradas impeachment, the Supreme Court designated Gloria MacapagalArroyo in his place. Macapagal-Arroyo was reelected for six years in 2004. But problems with the police continue. In 2004, Transparency International ranked the Philippine National Police (PNP) as the most corrupt institutions in the country. The PNP is indicated to detain minors and to deprive them and adult citizens of medical and legal attention. The PNP is also known for the frequent use of torture in the treatment of 2 Carnelian International. Security and Risk Resources. nes/law_enforcement.htm 3Philippines: Just like the movies.Ž The Economist (US), 353(8), 147, N ovember 27, 1999.

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433 citizens, and it appears to be involved with the disappearance of Muslim leaders (Amnesty, 2003).

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434 APPENDIX C. COUNTRIES AND LEVELS OF TRUST IN THE POLICE C-1 Countries and levels of trust in the police Country Status 2003 Regime % Trust the Police Nigeria PF DEM 10 Russia PF DEM 13 Argentina F DEM 16 Ukraine PF DEM 17 Bolivia PF DEM 19 Estonia F DEM 19 Slovakia F DEM 21 Moldova PF DEM 24 Romania F DEM 24 Serbia and Montenegro F ? 24 Guatemala PF DEM 26 Latvia F DEM 26 Lithuania F DEM 26 Mexico F DEM 26 Venezuela PF DEM 27 Hungary F DEM 29 Peru F DEM 29 Slovenia F DEM 30 Brazil F DEM 31 Bulgaria F DEM 31 Ecuador PF DEM 33 Costa Rica F DEM 34 Cape Verde F DEM 36 Paraguay PF DEM 36 Poland F DEM 36 South Africa F DEM 36 Czech Republic F DEM 40 Nicaragua PF DEM 40 Zambia PF AR 42 Colombia PF DEM 43 Uganda PF AR 43 Taiwan F DEM 45 Philippines F DEM 46 Senegal F RDP 46 Croatia F DEM 47 Uruguay F DEM 47

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435 C-1 Countries and levels of trust in the police Country Status 2003 Regime % Trust the Police Korea, South F DEM 48 Mongolia F DEM 48 Namibia F DEM 48 Panama F DEM 48 Japan F DEM 49 Mozambique PF DEM 50 Ghana F DEM 51 Tanzania PF RDP 51 Chile F DEM 52 El Salvador F DEM 53 Honduras PF DEM 53 Thailand F DEM 56 Botswana F DEM 57 Great Britain F DEM 60.7 United States F DEM 61 Mali F DEM 63 Malawi PF DEM 64 Sources: “Freedom in the World.” Freedom House. ( y2004.htm); Latinobarometer, 1997, 2004 (, Globalbarometer (, Afrobarometer 2002-2003, East Asia Barometer 2001-02 (; Eurobarometer ( _opinion/index_en.htm); Euro pean Social Survey, 2002. (; “Crime: People's Chief Concerns.” Public Agenda (Gallup, 2003) ( /issues/pcc_detail2.cfm?issue_type=cr ime&concern_graphic=pcccrimepolice confidenceRF.jpg)

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436 APPENDIX D. INSTRUMENTAL OF DATA COLLECTION. POLICING AND GOVERNANCE: AN EXAMINATION FROM MODERN ARGENTINA.Ž 1.When 2.How 3.Why did you decide to become a police officer? 4.What influenced you the most in joining the police? 5.When, where, and how does one learn the most important things to be a police officer? 6.So far, how important do you consider the following have been in your formation as a police officer? a.The police school b.What other police officers tell you about the profession c.Your direct experience as a police officer d.Some other experiencesƒ 7.A good police officer is someone whoƒŽ Could you please complete the sentence while also describing what makes a bad police officer? 8.¿What is the main role of the police in society? 9.Do people in this society appreciate their police? 10.Is there such a thing as police instinctŽ? How do police officers acquire it? 11.It is dark outside, and there is a group of five male teenagers„around 17-19 year old„hanging out at the corner. They wear long hair, earrings, loose clothes, and they are chatting and smoking. Who are they? What are they doing? 12.How do you know whether to intervene in a situation? How can you tell the difference between a group of people chatting on the street and a criminal gang preparing a new crime? 13.The police are in charge of maintaining order in society and enforce the law. What does this mean, exactly? How do you know when your job is well done? 14.Does what you do as a police officer change across different governments? 15.The degree of freedom that police officers should be given to decide by themselves while facing concrete situations, is always a matter of debate. On the one hand, there are those who argue that police officers need absolute freedom to effectively deal with always changing situations. On the other hand, there are those who permanently remind us of that power corrupts, and that absolute power corrupts absolutely. a.How much freedom is necessary in the exercise of policing, and how much is excessive? b.If you were in charge of deciding on this matter, how would you regulate this freedom, or flexibility, in the exercise of power by police officers?

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437 16.Sometimes, protecting the people, their property, and the law requires going beyond the law.Ž What do you think? 17.It is a commonplace in detective movies and novels to depict the police officer as someone who frequently must be able to act rudely and even to do illegal things to protect the people. Is this true? 18.Are the police only a tool of the justice system, or rather their functions go far beyond the legal system? 19. What would be of the government without the police enforcing the law? What is the role of the police in governing society? Can government exist without the police? 20.How would society look like without police forces? 21.What do the police and the military have in common? How is to be a member of the police different from being a member of the military? How do you evaluate the involvement of the military in internal security? 22.Democracy may be the best form of government, but too democracy leads to chaos. Is this true? 23.How do you evaluate the participation of the community in tasks of crime prevention? 24.What are your favorite sources of news? Where do you learn what is going on in society? (Preferred TV show and channel, radio station, newspaper) 25.How many among your friends are also police officers? 26.Are there any other police officers among your family members? 27.What is the best thing about being a police officer? And, what is the most difficult aspect of your job? 28.As a police officer, in what circumstances do you feel powerful? 29.As a police officer, in what circumstances do you feel powerless? 30.Do you know many police officers that have another jobs besides this one? 31.What movies, novels, tales, or TV shows, do you feel offer the most realist image of the police and police officers? Which ones do you think instead that distort those images? 32.If your son or daughter (it does not matter whether you have one) comes to you saying tat s/he wants to join the police, what would be your advice for him/her? 33.What are people claiming for when they claim for securityŽ? 34.Some people say that one can trust other people, while others say that is better to be careful and not to trust others too much. What do you think? a.One can trust others b.Principally one must be careful Please answer these questions: 1.How many years you have as a police officer? 2.What is your position within the police? 3.Where (in what districts, departments, or police stations) have you worked so far?

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438 1 2 3 4 5 Agrees disagrees A good patrolman is one who aggressively patrols his beat, stopping a number of cars, checking out people, running warr ant checks on vehicles that look suspicious, and so forth. 1 2 3 4 5 Agrees Disagrees In order to prevent crimes and appr ehend felons, the police are sometimes required to violate search and seizur e laws and other procedural safeguards. 1 2 3 4 5 Agrees Disagrees In some neighborhoods, the prevention of crime requires that patrolmen stop people walking down the street, especially juveniles, and ask them where they are going and what they are doing. 1 2 3 4 5 Agrees Disagrees A person who verbally abuses a police officer when he has been stopped for a violation of the law, who calls him names and challenges his authority, should be arrested. 1 2 3 4 5 Agrees Disagrees A patrolman who makes an arrest or issues a citation because of a persons attitude is making a “bad” arrest. 1 2 3 4 5 Agrees Disagrees It is important and right for an officer to take a person’s attitude into account in deciding whether or not to enforce the law. 1 2 3 4 5 Agrees Disagrees Preservation of the peace requires that the police use their authority to order people to ‘move along’ or ‘break it up’ even though no law is being violated. 1 2 3 4 5 Agrees Disagrees A patrolman should not make a lot of arrests for minor violations (such as drunks) or issue a lot of citations for minor traffic violations. 1 2 3 4 5 Agrees Disagrees A really effective patrolman is one who patrols for serious felony violations rather than stopping people for minor traffic violations and other misdemeanors. 1 2 3 4 5 Agrees Disagrees It’s a waste of time and takes away from more important things to arrest someone for possession of two or three marijuana cigarettes. 1 2 3 4 5 Agrees Disagrees In general, in this department there are very few supervisors who believe in letting patrolmen make their own decisions. 1 2 3 4 5 Agrees Disagrees Patrolmen who are always out looking for situations requiring police attention are the ones who usually get into trouble with their supervisors. 1 2 3 4 5 Agrees Disagrees The department allows patrolmen more than enough discretion in making arrests, issuing citations, or making tactical decisions. 1 2 3 4 5 Agrees Disagrees How often do the field supervisors in this department drive by and observe you while you are on a call? 1 2 3 4 5 Agrees Disagrees Patrolmen are frequently found guilty of violating departmental rules and procedures and are consequently penalized severely. 1 2 3 4 5 Agrees Disagrees The main method used by supervisors to keep their men working properly is that of punishment for what they consider ineffective performance. 1 2 3 4 5 Agrees Disagrees The department expects supervisors to deal with their patrolmen in a very strict manner.

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439 APPENDIX E. THE POLICE AND THE COMMU NITY. AN ILLUSTRATION The notion of “community” supporting strategi es of community polic ing is very much under dispute. Let us explore a few alterna tive meanings of community embedded in the narratives of police officers from different countries. “We should be empowering local communities, not disenfranchising them” (UK58). The democratic representation of community policing seems clear for this British officer, w ho also advocates for the “diffusion of power within society.” Both projects of democr atizing policing by invol ving the people as a constituency for co-governan ce (Loader; 1994, 2000; Shearin g and Johnston, 2003) and the attempt to turn the people into appendixes of the police or police informers have the community as their core. The British have considerable e xperience in the involvement of local communities in the definition and control of police policy. Ther e are strong adepts to community policing thus understood, such as this officer who says Twenty years on, seventeen years on, what I was saying then now is having to be driven by the new legislation, Crime and Disorder Act, and participation, colla boration between local government and the police and people (UK55). An interviewee from the pr ovince of Mendoza refers the experience of cooperation between voluntary groups of parents and the police to prevent car accidents. The strategy consisted in emplacing checkpoints through the city during AM hours in the weekends, and stopping young drivers coming back from parties a nd discos to check whether they were under the effects of alcohol. The police stopped the driv ers, but it was the parents who were in charge of testing the youths. In case of them being under the effects of al cohol, also parents would take them to a caf for a couple of hours to have them eat and drink coffee until they were able to drive again. She refers this experience as a posit ive form of participati on of the community in policing. “This is to act as a te am to achieve a goal . During that time there were no accidents” (SR14). In the same city, other young officer s upports with enthusiasm the constitution of community fora. As the aforementioned views, it presents the community as the constituency for policing. The community as democratic constituency Currently the police are work ing at the community level, with neighborhood fora established by the law. Legislati on passed in 1999 established these neighborhood fora that express a different conception of safety. This is slowly starting to work. It is a new experience th at we have to adapt. People have to adapt themselves, too, ri ght? The citizenry. Why do they have to adapt themselves? Because the people have too big a power, the people as an entity have too big a power. What ha ppens is that people do not realize of it, or they do not how to use it, they do not how to us e it. Because of lack of knowledge, lack

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440 of participation, people tend to reject all this. Our people, at least here, our idiosyncrasy, is to maintain ourselves each one in his or her house, quiet, “mind your own business,” and things like those. But I think that this strategy must produce good results. Specifically, as I was telling you, there are the neighborhood fora. They are tiny fora, right? Different fora, and then there is a counsel where all of these fora debate. They come out with solutions() It is about working together. We are working together, step by step. We are learning, because nobody knows everything. And well, people are contributing. I have taken part in meetings (ARG15). Alliances between the people and the police range from the community represented as the citizen constituency of policing, which is al so performed by citizens, to the community understood as mere police informers. Notions such as the “Community is the police and Police is the community” (PHIL1) opens up for an ambiguous understanding of the ro le that the people must perform in the definition of order and policing. The latter conveys homogenizing definitions of community. In this perspective, citizen involvement in security and community policing de rives in the notion that reduce the people to “The eyes and the ears of police officers” (US) . This is also what most Argentinean police officers mean when they say to support community policing. “People participate in denouncing, in volunteering as witnesses, in arresting people on the spot. Participation is visible when a person arre sts someone else” (ARG4). In this understanding, all members of the community become police informers or completely fuse with the police. This image presupposes the presence of the “criminal” against whom the commun ity allies the police. Narratives like these do not treat “criminals” as a part of the community. They represent communities as harmonic units wi th no conflicts. For the homogeneity that they presuppose and the implied radicalization of an Other that is not a part of the community but threatens it, this image evokes fascistic tropes. Asked for the potential of community policing to turn into a form of police state, a Uruguayan commissioner opposes both terms. As he puts it, “This model does not tend towards a police state, because whereas the police state is made with many police officers diminishing liberties, community policing seeks to reduce crim e rates to increase citizen liberties” (UR1). Drawing on liberty, this defin ition seems promising. Accordingl y, Montevidean police officers are becoming enthusiastic practitioners of “pr oximity policing” inspired in a communitarian approach. As both police officers and the authoritie s in charge of public security present it, the approach exhibits the potential to lay out grassroots, local, st rategies of empowering the people to cope with their own conflicts before they may result into breaches of the law. However, even the most democratically oriented supporters of community policing should keep in mind the dangers of state legibility. As Scott (1998, p. 369) mentions in relation to the United States, community policing also appears as a strategy to penetrate difficu lt zones such as “inner cities” on behalf of the state. In this respect, it seeks “to create a cadre of local police who are intimately familiar with the physical layout of the commun ity and especially the local population, whose assistance is now judged vital to effective police work.”

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441 The community as informers “In some places, the community cooperat es with the police. Sometimes, when they are frightened to give information, that’s the time they are not cooperative anymore. To be involved/interfer e/meddle is important” (PHIL3). “I think they should intervene in crime prevention (..) People participate, in making denounces, in volunteering as witnesse s. It is a form of participating. As it is to arrest people instea d of the police. People’s part icipation is visible when a person detains someone else, because they did not like that and then stopped the person and waited for the police. Immediately this person becomes an auxiliary of the justice system (ARG4). The community plays a big role. They report crimes. That’s why we have these programs like 117 and private eye 2910 wher e people can call in or text their information. This preempts crime (PHIL5). The people should be more active. They could report incidents and make citizens arrest (PHIL6). Very few people truly cooperate. It woul d be positive if they did—as a member of the community, you should inform me a bout the events that you see—but here the “non of your business” rules. People do not get involved. People know that they have to come to the police station, a nd then go to court, and it takes time. If the case is brought to court again and th ey waste more time. So, nobody wants to be a witness of anything. This is the wa y things are, everyone acts according to the rule of “mind your own business.” But when bad things happen to them, they start complaining against their own ne ighbors. But when they saw something, they did not do anything. I think that the people should take a bold step toward intervening. I think that the only way in which we can do it, at least here in Argentina, is by contributing, each with a few grains of sand. Not only me: because it is not only I who provides securi ty. I am an important part. But if for example I am running and I do not see that there is a robbery in floor 14, because until now I haven’t gotten eyes that can see through the walls. Then, if that one who is in apartment 14 “B” does not tell me ‘Look, they broke into 14 “A,” I cannot know it. This is cooperation. So metimes, people tell us: “how can it be possible that nobody heard anything?” N obody knows. People need to be more decided. Because it is a bit from the poli ce, a bit from the people, a bit from the justice system, and a bit from the govern ment, from politics. Everything has to do with a bit of decision (ARG5). The more community involves itself in law enforcement, the better. The more they participate, the safer their community is gonna be. They should be the eyes and the ears of police officers. Obse rvation, to be ready to call 911, and education I mean, if you just watch a crime, and you are a witness to it, if you are an informed person, or an educ ated person, you know “Hey, let me write down the tag of the car, let me write down what they’re wearing, write down

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442 In these variants, community policing consis ts merely in expandi ng the police apparatus to encompass a part of the citizenry. Citizen s are represented as depoliticized individuals concerned with crime and eager to turn themselves into police informers. This perspective contains, explicit or elided, an antagonistic figure: the criminal. Thus, the community, the people, are expected to contribu te with the police to fight crime. Who are the criminals, then? Whoever do not fit within the hom ogenizing concept of people and community that this narrative raises. Whether these engagements serve to reduce violent crime is to be seen. Yet for sure it does not promote democratic practices either among the people, among the police, or between both of them. It is unavoidable to refer to the almost fascis t, police state connotati ons of these forms of “participation,” where the latter seems to consist of turning in one’s own neighbor. Ultimately, as the Nazi mapping of the Jewish people in Amster dam and the role of the Argentinean police in the “disappearances” of thousands of people ep itomizes, the administrativ e and police powers of the state can be turned at any moment against th e people. As the previous chapter discussed, both Foucault and Agamben show that this danger is embedded in the biopolitical natu re of power that characterizes the Western tradition. The assimilation police/community appears as a Filipino theme. If the civic element were emphasized, this assimilation could be seen as on e promoting radical democratic forms. But this is not the case, for this assi milation seems to turn everyone into a police officer or police informer. In other words, these police officers do not argue that police and the community are the same because they are all citizens. What they do instead is to subj ect everyone to a police function. Assimilation police-community If I may, there’s this English law enforcer academician who said that, I’d like to quote him, it’s Robert Peel who said that: “Commun ity is the police and Police is the community” meaning community shares the responsibility of also maki ng sure that the public sa fety is maintained and the police cannot just do it alone (PHIL1). The community is the police and the police is the community. They have to guard their own place, their own co mmunity. The role of the police in this case is just a supporting role (PHIL7). These references illustrate ambiguous and di verse connotations given to the community. For appeals to the community have also been inspired by neoconservatism, which by promising their height, weight, and how they lo ok like Instead of just saying “Hey, there’s these guys down here in a white car robbing this guy,” you know? If you are informed and educated, you’ll say “Hey, there’s two white guys out here, there are about 23 45, they both have long bl ond hair, they both wear blue jeans, white shirts, and they’re in a 1970-72 c onvertible, white color with a Florida tag” etcetera (US).

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443 to devolve power to the people in fact fosters th e privatization of services such as policing. Or the segmentation of its quality according to di fferent layers of people. In these accounts, “community” includes in fact only the propertied, middle-clas s, part of the population. And policing is treated as business with the introduction of standards of productivity and customer satisfaction. In the UK, Thatcherism introduced managerial models and blended them with community policing. The rejection of managerial principles on beha lf of ethics in the following passage then stands in defense of democratic principles of organi zation of policing: “And unashamedly, using that word, saying that my ai m was not managerialism, which is technically to do the thing right. It was moral, to do the right thing” (UK58). Still, managerial principles admit a different use, for at least they shift the emphasis from the maintenance of order to the pr ovision of a public service that intends to satisfy the people. These latter elements are invoke d by the British, too, as well as by Canadians (De Lint, 1998) and Uruguayans. These alternatives show expos e the ambiguous potential of managerialism, which oscillates between the democr atic assimilation of policing to a public service in search of high standards, and exclusionary connotations such as the assumption that services are only for those who can afford them. The latter also implies that it is legitimate for different groups within the population to receive the kind of service they can afford. Furthermore, with its notions of quality linked to productivity, mana gerialism may lead to an unders tanding of public safety that draws on indicators such as number of arrests, which frequently but wrongly are assimilated to “quality.” Other association that appears is that of educating the people. There is nothing wrong with this goal, save that in a democratic society public servants should be eager also to learn from their constituency. Educating the community It is perfect. Because it is a way for th e community to help the police and for the police to help the community. A way to make the community understand— through elementary and secondary school—w hat the police do. This is to say to insert the police in society. Instead of that popular theme that you go in the street with you child and tell him or her “If you do not take the soup, I am going to tell the police.” No. Sometimes, I told this to police officers from other countries, they laughed and they just could not believe it. This is th e way it is here. Then, the youth is driving a car, the police stop him, and he escapes . And this is not the way” (ARG20). Many references are mostly ambiguous. The Argentinean commissione r below says nice but vague things about people’s participation, yet he is clear on limiting such participation. How should people participate, then ? His response is ambiguous. Besi des, one might recognize some patronizing tone in his form to refer to other citizens. In turn, the British officer below addresses issues of participation in a completely different context where citizens have been engage d with the police for many years. Yet it is not clear to what extent he wants just to serve hi s constituency or building good relations with them to turn them into eventual informers. There may be nothing wrong with his form of reasoning, yet it discloses the ever pr esent dangers in policing.

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444 Ambiguity I think that society must participate in crime prevention, but w ith limits. It is a matter of security for themselves, becau se they are not prepared for this. Ultimately, I am a police officer 24/7. If someone shoots me, I am Both me and my family are prepared for this to happen. Because it is more likely for a commissioner to get killed than for Dr . Rodrguez in his function. Because I am exposed to that. Then, I think that so ciety is not ready to perform specific functions of prevention or repression. No w, that they must help, and we must struggle all together for society to be more just and for that there is no criminals anymore, if society may help with th is, I think it would be perfect (ARG18). In a crime fighting mode, one of the things that you need above all is cooperation of, and information from, the public. If they only ever meet you in a conflict situation, for example when you're draggi ng them in and locking them up, that's the only of policing that's around, or m ove them from the street corner or whatever, then the level of cooperation wh en you want it is likely to be much less. So you could argue that a number of t hose peripheral things, the nice soft bit of policing, if you use that terminology, is building up credit in the bank for when you need it for the help of th e people in the other way (UK58). The relation with the community also appears as something that existed before and we must reconstruct. The image of the friendly and lovely patrol officer who knew everybody in the neighborhood, who saw everybody’s children grow up, who was one with the people is recurrent in Argentina. One of the interviewees referre d to an old TV show where comedian Osvaldo Pacheco performed the role of a beat officer who was assigned to a corner and staid there forever until he decided to buy the house and patrol through the window. This mythical Argentinean reference appears disrupted by traumatic events th at are elided as well as their rationale is assumed. Something to recuperate The civilian community, you mean? It seems as if this is the issue of the day, but since there is no concrete proposal on what to do—ne ither from the part of the authorities, because they do not know how to do it—nor from the part of communities. I think that if we want to do something together with the community we must work together. The community must contribute with helping the po lice to identify places th at are conflictive, to see how to handle an early alert for the police, to detect if crime is about to occur. From the part of the police, to listen to the co mments arising from the community, on which are the conflictive places, and on th e other hand, to go when alerts of initiation of crime are received. This has been lost here: Until about ten, twent y, I’d rather say twenty years ago, until the 1970s, there were patrol officers a ssigned to the streets. They we re assigned a sector of the city, which they covered by foot. They inter acted they were the “police officer at the corner.” They interacted with shop owners, with landlords, with the people who crossed by. They knew each other, because it was the same police officer, in the same

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445 neighborhood, day after day. There were the same ones assigned to the morning, the afternoon, and the night. They rotated, but they always knew each other. This changed after the 1970s, when the “s ubversive problem” star ted, although it started already in the previous decade. Police officers locked themselves inside police stations and patrol cars. And it is not the same to go around the city looking from the interior of a car than walking its streets a nd contacting the people. I think this is essential. If the police could re cuperate the sidewalk in that sense, they would recuperate the city. The community. Su re, because they would have someone with whom to talk. “I have no time to go to the police station, but here is the patrol officer standing at the corner. I am goi ng to talk to him” (ARG7). Again, whether or not these patrol officers were ever as popular as these narratives present them, the “subversive problem” that mo st Argentinean police officers still avoid to confront, elide, or dispatch with euphemisms , creates the an illusion of understanding. But we are not talking about what we should be talking. These ways of referring to the past without referring to it, also for example as “in other tim es,” obturate a critical confrontation with our recent history and the role of the police in that history. Some narratives convey skepticism about pe ople’s participation. The reference below connotes distrust for democratic procedures. Skepticism Labels and names sound wonderful. But reality is different. Because I am certain that no more than 500, 600 people know the president of the Community Forum from my city. And the city has a population of 150,000, pl us 100,000 other people who commute. They are 250,000, and I am certain that no more than 500 or 1000 know him. Therefore, it is a lie, a lie: How useful could it be? In a city of 7000, there may be a Community Forum, because everyone knows each other. But in this city, and I mention this city becau se this is where I am, the neighbor from this corner does not know the one from two blocks from here, nor even the one from the same block. Then, we should have a neighborhood re presentative every four blocks. What is impossible, impossible. How could it be meani ngful? If I’m not mistaken, this was born by the time of Dr. Arslanin. What is the purpose? That the nei ghbor controls the police. I see no other (ARG0). Whereas most interviewees tend to react positiv ely but confusedly before the prospects of community participation in strategies of public safety, this officer judges that involvement inappropriate No community engagement I do not think that it applies. I think that the people do not have to pe rform either tasks of prevention or at the most, what has been impl emented in some places, which is what it is called Alert Plan, by which neighbors comm unicate, leave the house at the same time.

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446 But these are always palliatives that(...)They are bandaids, le t us say. You do not cure the illness with that. Neighbors should not sweep th e sidewalk at the same time in the day. What they have to do is to avoid to them to be robbed when going out to sweep (ARG7). Even in its most democratic variants, community policing does not escape the depoliticizing and technocratic danger identified by Wilson in the Un ited States. Only a focus on problems, not on moralizing between “good” and “bad” people, can avoid to stigmatize and criminalize dissent and contribute to perpetuate crime.

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