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Community-building and reintegrative approaches to community policing: the case of drug control.

THE OFFICER AS COMMUNITY-BUILDER IS ONE OF THE MOST POPULAR THEMES OF THE community policing movement. It is based on the assumption that the officer can act as an organizer who works to mobilize the "social capital" of a neighborhood to prevent social disorder and thereby crime (Pint, 2001; Sampson, 1999; Lyons, 1999; Crank, 1994). Nevertheless, the community-building process is a tall order for the police, both politically and bureaucratically. A traditionally insulated service sector that is often an object of controversy in its own right, a community-building orientation requires law enforcement to forge partnerships with a wide variety of community-based and other government organizations, as well as to engage in social outreach (Thracher, 2001; Kleinenberg, 2001).

In this context, community policing assumes that the police will restrain their reactive, crime-fighting orientation to create room for more collaborative and innovative crime prevention and "problem-solving" strategies (Bureau of Justice, 1994: 17). Whether the police are willing and able to live up to these reforms, and how they problem-solve, are matters open to question (Skogan and Hartnett, 1997; Maguire, 1997).

Different methods of community policing imply different ideas about community-building, although they all grow out of a common philosophical assumption that social disorganization leads to crime and must be minimized. Here we limit our discussion of the community-building concept to understanding the ways in which different policing practices and crime prevention partnerships work to include or exclude socially marginal populations. For example, the most common police response to their community-building role has been to intensify and broaden their preexisting order-maintenance function. One approach, "aggressive order maintenance," is philosophically rooted in Wilson and Kelling's (1982) now classic piece on "broken windows" as a metaphor for the association between physical disorder, social disorganization, and crime (Kelling and Coles, 1996: 158). Aggressive order maintenance involves arrests, "field interrogations," and "stops and frisks" as methods to suppress minor crimes and "untended" behaviors, such as public intoxication and panhandling, with the intention of preventing larger problems of crime and disorder (Ibid.; Crank, 1994: 343; Harcourt, 2001: 173). One consequence of this approach is the increased regulation of "disreputable" or "obstreperous" persons such as "panhandlers, drunks, addicts, rowdy teenagers, prostitutes, loiterers, the mentally disturbed," because they are viewed as a threat to community organization and stability (Wilson and Kelling, 1982: 30; Crank, 1994). A second approach, "problem-oriented" policing, is analogous to broken windows theory in that it frequently targets environmental and social disorder because it is believed that these conditions give rise to crime (Goldstein, 1990). This model advocates more indirect approaches to control, avoiding the use of arrests and the targeting of specific groups when possible, and instead focuses on ecological solutions. "Grime-fighting" and "nuisance abatement" campaigns that work to remove the "environmental cues" believed to attract crime, such as unkempt lots or abandoned cars, are popular problem-solving strategies (Taylor, 2001: 5; Sampson and Raudenbush, 1999: 605). The police may also work with code enforcement agencies to demolish or rehabilitate properties suspected of harboring drug traffickers (Eck, 1990; Eck and Spelman, 1987). Whatever the method, order maintenance policing is seen as a community-building tool because it is said to reduce the fear and actual incidence of crime and to reinforce law-abiding and conventional norms (Sykes, 1986).

Much has been written on the successes of community policing in the United States as it pertains to order maintenance, particularly when initiatives are organized around the enhanced regulation of public space (e.g., Kelling and Coles, 1996; Skogan and Hartnett, 1997). Less is known about alternative reform approaches that call on the police to play a greater role in basic crime prevention activities, especially those aimed at the amelioration of the social and economic strains underlying crime. In the aftermath of the Los Angeles uprisings of 1992, for example, community policing was heralded as an outreach strategy that could improve relationships with African-Americans and other persons of color throughout the United States (Mastrofski, Worden, and Snipes, 1995; Independent Commission, 1991). More effective crime and disorder control, largely through citizen input and involvement, was seen as part of the outreach program, as were concerns with restraining overzealous policing (Thracher, 2001). An outreach function to social services was to promote the police as a benevolent force that could play a direct role in linking citizens-in-need, even those considered to be socially marginal and associated with minor crimes. The federal government promoted this view, arguing that police officers could facilitate access to "emergency social services" for runaways, homeless persons, and the intoxicated (Bureau of Justice Assistance, 1994: 15), and has recently lauded the potential of its SHIELD program, where law enforcement officers identify youths at risk of delinquency and refer them to therapeutic agencies and programs (Wyrick, 2000). The Community Policing Consortium (1) has recently highlighted intervention tactics that feature outreach teams made up of law enforcement officials and social and health workers (Jones and Wiseman, 2001). Others have documented an outreach role for the police in diverting the seriously mentally ill and domestic offenders to community-based rehabilitative programs (Morash and Robinson, 2002; Zdanowicz, 2001; Jolin and Moose, 1997; Eck, 1990; Eck and Spelman, 1987). Although not advocated as replacing aggressive order maintenance and problem-oriented policing strategies, these varied approaches to outreach are touted as viable responses in the community-policing repertoire.

The conception of the officer as an agent of social outreach stems from the long-held finding that the police spend a great deal of their time responding to "non-crime" incidents involving human and family crises (Bayley, 1994; Mastrofski, 1983). Still, how does one characterize a set of outreach strategies that, at core, involve police efforts to use their place in the community to link individuals defined by Wilson and Kelling (1982: 30) as "disreputable" or "obstreperous" to relevant health and human services ? Here we introduce the term "reintegrative" community policing as a concept to better assess this process. Our use of the term "reintegrative" builds on Braithewaite's (1989: 13) distinction between social control systems built on shaming through "stigmatization" and those that focus on ways of bringing offenders back into the life of the community. Akin to the idea of order maintenance, reintegrative approaches assume that law enforcement must intervene to stem social disorder as a way to prevent crime. At the same time, reintegrative approaches emphasize linkages with remedial services as a means of alleviating social strains, and are less focused on incapacitating or isolating the offender as a mechanism of crime control (Guarino-Ghezzi, 1994; Braithewaite, 1989). Although "reintegrative" is not a term the police would use, we believe it aptly contrasts the potential impact of such strategies on socially marginal groups.

The concept of reintegration has largely been applied in the corrections context, especially as it pertains to the rehabilitation of the offender, but we use it here, as have others, to refer to the actions of the police. Guarino-Ghezzi's (1994: 131) work looks at "reintegrative" policing and the control of juvenile offenders, largely in terms of getting officers to avoid punitive strategies in favor of linkages to social supports. Makkai and Braithewaite (1994: 361) define reintegrative policing as being "tolerant and understanding" when confronted with the minor violations of white collar offenders, and have pertinence for understanding the discretionary practices of street cops as well. Robert Trojanowicz and colleagues have argued that the police are potentially effective brokers of public services because they are the only public agency available on a 24-hour basis, seven days a week (Trojanowicz, Bucqueroux, McLanus, and Sinclair, n.d). Within this context, we define reintegrative outreach as the formation of crime prevention programs involving law enforcement and human service organizations, or direct involvement of officers in diverting citizens to remedial resources on a pre-arrest or "pre-booking" basis. In this article, we are concerned with the opportunities and limitations of reintegrative community policing strategies in terms of their ability to facilitate citizen access to treatment and related services to deal with substance abuse and illicit drug use problems. After two decades of a drug war that has exploded prison populations and failed to reduce drug demand and addiction, American law enforcement officials have become increasingly supportive of treatment as a means to reduce drug demand and thereby crime (McNamara, 1995). (2) Taking a cue from Europe, where officers refer or actively divert drug users to treatment and "harm reduction" services such as needle-exchange and methadone maintenance (Hellawell, 1995), policymakers in the United States have looked on community policing as striking a balance between decriminalization and a "war on drugs." Drug Strategies (1997: 28), a nonprofit organization committed to drug policy reform, sees community police officers as capable of reaching "troubled citizens before drug-related behavior leads to arrest," and cite a program in New York that pairs "police officers and outreach workers," who help find "treatment for homeless individuals, alcoholics, and drug addicts." The Bureau of Justice Assistance (1994: 20), too, argues that officers can help "set up drug counseling and rehabilitation centers" as part of a community policing agenda. New Haven, Connecticut, received national attention when "ABC News" aired "America's War on Drugs" on April 6, 1995. New Haven's chief Nicholas Pastore stated that his community policing agenda included linkages with treatment and public health sectors, largely in the form of supporting needle-exchange. He distinguished between the provision of treatment for drug-dependents and the prosecution of traffickers.

By distinguishing between order maintenance and "reintegrative" policing, we do not mean to suggest that the pursuit of one strategy is totally antithetical to the other. Some localities may try a mixture of both approaches (Crank, 1994). Indeed, on a purely theoretical level, reintegration would seem to be a logical extension of the idea of order maintenance. As a practical matter, however, the history of the community policing movement has thus far taught us that law enforcement agencies are likely to be selective in their adoption of reforms. Policy selectivity becomes manifest, in Offe's (1974: 35) words, in an organization's "own routines and formal structures," or, as Herbert (1997: 4) puts it in his work on the police, through the process of "normative ordering." Selectivity is problematic when considering the impact of the community policing movement, because it suggests that some interests are being served more than others, largely through the kinds of policy approaches that become manifest.

We argue that order maintenance policing, as currently practiced, conflicts with the idea of reintegrative policing, especially as this pertains to definitions of community-building, the facilitation of resources and organizations needed to meet social control objectives, and expectations about police reform. This creates a number of tensions in integrating the two approaches. First, aggressive order maintenance has been criticized as a form of control that is built on a narrow vision of community that targets socially marginal populations, youth and minorities (Harcourt, 2001; Bass, 2001; Greene, 1999). Given these criticisms, can the inclusive thrust of the reintegrative approach be reconciled with the exclusionary thrust of order maintenance approaches? This point is especially important in our study, as Bluthenthal and colleagues (2001) argue that aggressive order maintenance makes users unwilling to access public services. Second, order maintenance approaches, whether direct or indirect, mobilize community organizations and resources that are geared toward goals of public regulation and less toward social services. For example, while advocates of "problem-oriented" policing argue that its strength is in forging partnerships that can respond to a wide array of crime and disorder problems, including outreach, the empirical record shows that the majority of these partnerships are organized around crime control (Thracher, 2001; Sadd and Grinc, 1996). Third, the police themselves are known to reject reintegrative approaches as "social work" and as irrelevant to an occupational ethos that continues to be built on a mode of crime fighting (Skogan and Hartnett, 1997: 12).

In the presentation of our case studies below, we are concerned with the process by which reintegrative strategies in response to problems of substance abuse and illicit drug use are introduced and sustained in larger community policing initiatives. We will first focus on the design and organization of specific community policing initiatives to better understand the control strategies used by officers. In particular, we will be concerned with the kinds of linkages the police make with government and community-based organizations and how these affect the scope and equity of reform. Second, we will employ firsthand observations to look at how the "normative order" of policing, defined here as a combination of bureaucratic practices and "street-level" officer attitudes, limits discretionary practices and therefore reintegrative reforms (Herbert, 1997; Goetz, 1997). Third, we will examine the extent to which reintegrative and order maintenance approaches can be effectively combined to address drug control and substance abuse issues.


We employed firsthand observations, in-depth interviews, and archival analysis as a means of studying the organizational routines, social interactions, and officer attitudes pertaining to reintegrative efforts of community policing officers.

Site Selection

We were interested in sites with the following characteristics:

(1) Cities with a population of at least 100,000 residents, with the assumption that larger cities would have larger substance abuse and illicit drug use problems, larger and more formalized community policing initiatives, more developed drug treatment sectors, and greater opportunity for human service linkages.

(2) Cities espousing increased treatment and harm-reduction efforts as a means of reducing demand for illicit drugs.

(3) Cities espousing increased public safety and human service linkage as a possible crime prevention strategy.

We reviewed the community policing and public health literatures, including specialty publications produced by organizations such as the Community Policing Consortium, Join Together, and the Drug Policy Foundation, in search of communities where joint policing and drug policy reforms were being attempted. Norfolk, Virginia, was chosen because of its successes at integrating policing and other city services, particularly human service linkages (Cronin, 1994; Skogan and Hartnett, 1997; Sadd and Grinc, 1996). Norfolk had also attempted to concurrently implement a policy that would emphasize treatment as an approach to regulating drug demand. Baltimore had received national attention because of the city's commitment to drug reform, specifically "treatment on demand" and harm-reduction services (e.g., needle-exchange and methadone maintenance) for all users and abusers of illicit drugs (Shenk, 1999; City of Baltimore, 1993). In short, we consider Norfolk and Baltimore to be exemplars of a stated attempt to integrate outreach approaches into their community policing initiatives.

Observation and Interviews

Within each community, our interviews and observations focused upon areas where policing linkages with social service institutions were most likely to occur and/or areas where drug issues were likely to be of concern. Our goal was not to make a comprehensive assessment of the entire community policing initiative within each community, but to focus on subareas where reintegrative efforts were directed at problems of substance abuse and illicit drug use. Archival analysis, discussion with police officials, and interviews with key informants were also conducted in each community.

In Norfolk, data-collection efforts concentrated on specially designated officers from the PACE (Police Assisted Community Enforcement) program, and in sectors where drugs and substance abuse were known to be problems. Seven specially designated PACE officers were observed in four of eight police sectors. Each officer (two were paired) was observed over eight-hour shifts, for a total of about 56 hours. For comparison purposes, observations were also done of three regular patrol tours, totaling 24 hours. Observations were primarily done between the hours of 1:00 P.M. and 12:00 midnight. In addition, meetings and daylong PACE-related trainings were observed, adding an additional 24 hours of observation. Twenty-one key informant interviews were conducted with a variety of respondents: the civilian coordinator of PACE, the designer of the PACE program (now retired), service agency representatives serving on PACE boards, the chief of police, the city's director of drug prevention services and its director of substance abuse services, the director of Norfolk's centralized detoxification unit, a social services liaison to the police department, social workers that were assigned to PACE, district lieutenants in charge of PACE sectors, the officer in charge of directing Norfolk's "problem-solving school," neighborhood activists, ministers engaged with faith-based drug treatment programs, and the director and community police officer assigned to a public housing complex.

Baltimore, in contrast, had many different strands of community policing reform, often in the form of grant-funded initiatives that tended to operate independently. After discussions with contacts in the Baltimore Police Department, and reviewing materials that suggested links between law enforcement and public health resources (Kelling et al., 1998; Join Together, 1997), we focused our attention on Baltimore's CCP/Hotspots, a federal program funded through police departments to develop a network of public officials, activists, and community-based agencies that devised crime prevention strategies, including those aimed at reducing drug demand. Direct observations of police included 52 hours with eight CCP/Hotspots designated officers and 24 hours of regular patrol tours in areas designated by CCP/Hotspots. In addition, an additional five hours of observation included the city's needle-exchange program and police-involved recreational activities and PAL (Police Athletic League) centers. Twenty-five key informant interviews were conducted with a variety of respondents: police department administrators and district lieutenants, the city's health commissioner, health-outreach workers, the director or Baltimore's substance abuse service system, the director of an outreach agency for drug addicts, a local foundation that funds outreach programs aimed at drug addicts, community activists and agencies involved with CCP/Hotspots, representatives from Baltimore's mayor's office, the director of the Maryland's Police Corps, and probation officers. In addition, observations and interviews, sources such as the Baltimore Sun, The Daily Virginian, and various policy reports were invaluable to this research effort.

Integrating Policing and Human Services: Norfolk

Impetus for Reform

Community-building under PACE's "community-oriented government" was defined as making city services more accessible to citizens and allowing citizens to have more input into how these services should be organized and distributed. However, PACE was introduced in 1990 primarily in response to growing concerns over drug trafficking and violence (Jackson, 1991). The Norfolk Police Department (NPD) had called for the city to hire more police as a way to control crime, but city leaders convened a Task Force on Drugs comprised of public officials and private citizens to formulate broad-based crime prevention strategies that would augment law enforcement strategies with human service linkages as a means of reducing social strain and thereby crime (Cronin, 1994). Chief among these leaders was George Crowley, then assistant city manager and in charge of the administration of public safety agencies, who emphasized an "effective, accessible, and adequate treatment system" that was equal to law enforcement as a means of reducing drug demand. (3)

Crowley took the lead in designing PACE, inspired by the work of Robert Trojanowicz and colleagues (n.d.). The reintegrative thrust of PACE helped it to win funding under the federal government's Innovative Neighborhood Oriented Policing (INOP) initiative in the 1990s. Under INOP, officers were to act as "catalysts for developing and sustaining a network of neighborhood services," including "broadening the scope of community-based approaches to drug demand reduction" (Sadd and Grinc, 1996: 2). Initially, PACE was implemented in eight of the highest crime areas in Norfolk, five of which were public housing projects. Eventually the program went citywide.

PACE's Structure: Integrating Public Safety and Human Services Agendas

At the city level, PACE's commitment to service-integration was reflected in the makeup of its oversight body, the PACE Support Services Committee. The Committee brought together members from the Norfolk Police Department, the Department of Social Services, which was largely concerned with domestic matters, the Community Services Board, the governmental entity responsible for drug prevention efforts and running the city's Substance Abuse Services division, various city agencies engaged in code enforcement that encompassed Norfolk's fire, health, and public works departments, parks and recreation, and other government agencies.

At the sector level, similar efforts at integration were attempted through interagency teams. First, each of the city's six policing sectors had its own CORE Team. CORE Teams were chaired by police lieutenants and included citizens and representatives from other city agencies such as the Department of Social Services and Community Services Board. The teams met monthly to identify public order problems and to devise solutions that stressed an interagency approach. In addition, within each policing sector, PACE was organized into "FAST" (Family Assessment Service) and "NEAT" (Nuisance and Environmental Abatement) Teams. FAST Teams were responsible for "family assessment and services coordination," and included the NPD, social services, and the Community Services Board. NEAT Teams were designed to address "environmental blight," such as "houses that need repair, tall grass, abandoned vehicles, junk and debris, improper storage of trash and related violations," and included police officers and code enforcement officials from the city's fire, health, and building departments. These teams were staffed primarily by specially designated PACE or community police officers whose duties were distinct from traditional patrol officers (e.g., free from 911 calls). In practice, the teams were more a mechanism for encouraging intergovernmental cooperation than identifiable entities that worked concurrently on particular problems.

Organizing Around Nuisance Abatement and Order Maintenance

Though the initial promise of PACE was to integrate the order maintenance and human service aspects of crime prevention, the initiative soon became organized around order maintenance. This was apparent at several levels of the policy implementation process, including training emphases, the ways in which PACE fit with the normative order of officers, and the priorities of community organizations.

In terms of training, all NPD uniformed officers were required to attend a two-day "problem-solver's school" as well as other in-service trainings to learn the fundamentals of community policing generally and PACE in particular. An impressive curriculum provided an overview of community policing philosophy, directives on how to forge partnerships with agencies and community-based organizations, and an emphasis on problem-solving efforts that "do not simply respond to the symptoms of disorder and crime but assesses those symptoms in order to identify the underlying conditions that foster community problems" (from Problem-Solver's Class Workbook). Designed in collaboration with officials from code enforcement and social services, the training nevertheless emphasized activities related to NEAT as the primary function of PACE. This approach helped to neutralize the perception among officers that community policing meant being "soft" on enforcement, and instead got them to think about nuisance abatement and environmental conditions as useful crime-fighting tools. The following is from the first author's field notes:
 Officers did not want to be at the problem-solver's school. One
 officer complained to the officer-instructor, "Why should I spend
 my time making sure that Johnny goes straight?" The
 officer-instructor countered, "people forget that community
 policing is about enforcement. But I tell you that it is still
 about PB&J--putting butts in jail." Furthermore, when trainings
 turned to the value of order maintenance, even the most
 resistant officers began to embrace new problem-solving strategies.
 I was part of a group of officers charged with solving a theft
 problem near Old Dominion University. We all went to the site, and
 upon surveying it, the officer concerned about having to make
 "Johnny go straight" now began to conceive of ways to prevent theft
 by increasing pedestrian visibility and light.

Another workgroup of officers faced with the challenge of dealing with loitering homeless and alcoholics in Norfolk's downtown chose to "move the drunks to another part of town" as a problem-solving strategy. The officer-instructor rebuffed the group's solution as moving the nuisance and not abating it, but she chose not to mention the FAST concept, or the availability of a centralized detoxification facility, as alternative remedial tools.

Indeed, "NEAT"-related activities were so popular that additional training sessions were offered that brought code enforcement personnel together with officers to learn about penal and other municipal codes (e.g., fire and housing), formulate interagency problem-solving strategies, and stage mock problem-solving exercises. No such trainings were developed for FAST members to address more concerns related to human service.

Specially designated PACE officers followed a daily routine that was largely concerned with nuisance abatement. They would "link up with their codes people," as one officer put it, to activate NEAT-related measures to speed up the code enforcement process in areas containing deteriorated or abandoned residential properties, abandoned vehicles, or untended and unsecured vacant lots. PACE officers also arranges their schedules to be present at youth recreational activities and community meetings.

Specialized "order maintenance" patrols used anti-trespassing and loitering ordinances as problem-solving tools. Similar to actions taken in other U.S. cities (Lyons, 1999), landowners would sign consent orders "before-the-fact" that allowed officers to enter the public access areas of residences to detain and question suspects. In the case of public housing, officers worked with facility managers and residents to evict individuals who violated noise or drinking ordinances or who were suspected of illegal drug activities.

The twin focus on nuisance abatement and order maintenance was galvanized by the demands of Norfolk's 70 or so active civic leagues. Civic leagues were the main mechanism for citizen input into PACE, and PACE officers were required to attend meetings. Some sectors even used standardized forms that were designed with a specific civic league in mind, followed up by a boilerplate letter to explain to a league's president what action was taken. In focusing on order maintenance concerns, PACE officers were responding to the explicit needs of a significant constituency in the Norfolk community.

Difficulties in Forging Police-Human Service Linkages

Other policy objectives that emphasized human service linkages were evident in earlier public statements about PACE. One news article described how the police were conducting enforcement sweeps of three of the city's PACE-targeted public housing projects. After the police moved in to "stabilize" these areas, the Virginian-Pilot (1991: C4) remarked, there was to be a "comprehensive assault on social ills that leave adults and youths vulnerable to drug abuse, dealing, and related violence." Officers were to play a key role in this process by going:
 ... door-to-door, asking residents, "how can I help you," "What
 city services do you need?" "How can we tailor services to fit
 your needs?" That puts officers in a position to spot troubled
 or at-risk youths and whole families where drug or alcohol
 problems spawn child abuse and neglect, truancy, domestic
 violence, malnutrition, and eventually crime (Ibid.).

FAST Teams emerged as PACE's primary response mechanism for linking citizens to human services, including substance abuse services, through organizing community forums, youth programs, and "crisis intervention." Patrol officers (i.e., not necessarily "PACE officers") and other government agencies were to refer troubled families and citizens to FAST Teams, who in turn were to plan a collaborative response along with ongoing case management, including follow-ups by PACE officers (Cronin, 1994: 23, 24). The FAST Teams were nevertheless being "phased out" at the time of this research, "because they are not needed," as one NPD officer put it. There will instead be "PACE Family Advocates," a program that encourages the police to refer suspected domestic abuse and family crises to the Department of Social Services. This new approach redefines the FAST concept in three important ways. First, problems of substance abuse and illicit drug use could only be addressed when they emerged within the context of a domestic incident. Second, police may simply refer cases, and need not become involved with ongoing case management and follow-up. Third, the direct structural linkage between the police and the city's Substance Abuse Services division has been removed.

Nevertheless, the police did have an alternative option for linking directly with substance abuse services. Inebriated citizens could be diverted to a centralized detoxification center run by Substance Abuse Services. Designed to play a central role in the city's efforts to reduce the demand for illicit drugs, the center ran on-site day rehabilitative programs and acted as a referral agency for longer-term care. Its director estimated that about 60% of its clients enter the facility intoxicated on something other than alcohol, especially heroin and cocaine. Still, the police provided only about three percent of referrals at any given time.

What explains the failure to forge working linkages between the police and substance abuse services? One informant complained that the Community Services Board's Substance Abuse Services division "took a back seat," to the Department of Social Services when formulating FAST-related activities. Norfolk's director of Substance Abuse Services acknowledged his concerns about increased service demands resulting from PACE, and chose instead to put his energies into generating funding for a drug treatment court as a post-arrest response to substance abuse and drug use issues. He noted that while Norfolk's detoxification center provided an available diversion mechanism, longer-term care remained a problem. There was only one methadone maintenance facility available in the city, and residential programs often required private insurance or were located outside urban areas. One minister-treatment counselor argued that there were "gaping holes" in Norfolk's treatment infrastructure beyond faith-based programs or Alcoholics/Narcotics Anonymous.

These structural impediments coalesced with the normative order of policing in Norfolk and the ways in which PACE was implemented within the police department. Specially designated PACE officers came to be defined as specialists in nuisance abatement and order maintenance, leaving regular patrol officers to handle citizens-in-crisis. When faced with drug and alcohol abusers, however, patrol officers had a tendency to walk away from situations or simply to voice disapproval. For example, some officers claimed that they did not regularly use the detoxification center because it was not "for the repeat offender." The center's director adamantly denied this, claiming that the center was devised precisely as a diversion mechanism for law enforcement. Other officers claimed that they did not like to transport addicts because they might vomit in patrol units. Another officer, recognized for her commitment to community policing, argued that the police are "not going to wipe the noses of drug users," when asked about failures to facilitate citizen access to substance abuse services. During mental health crises, officers did have the option of calling in 24-hour response teams of social workers and were observed once to do this, although the officer left the scene before the team arrived. In another case, a patrol officer encountered an agitated woman with an admitted bipolar disorder who had caused a traffic accident. The officer's initial response was to "show her the curb," i.e., let her go, after giving her a driving citation, but instead chose to arrest her on an outstanding warrant.

Herbert (1997) argues that a key element of a police officer's normative order includes the use of machismo and authoritative postures to command respect from citizens, particularly in high-crime areas. Such behaviors, however, may negatively affect their ability to act as agents of outreach, especially if social outsiders are concerned. The following example is an example from field notes:
 I was observing an order maintenance patrol with an officer named
 Dave. We were called to a scene at an apartment building where two
 bicycle officers had detained a woman. She was about 30 and was
 sitting on the bottom stairs, smoking and holding a bag of clothes.
 The apartment complex was known for dealing, and the officers
 thought the woman was there for this purpose, although she claimed
 to be visiting a friend. The officers wanted to know where the woman
 lived--she said close by, but she could not remember her address.
 The officers were growing frustrated because they could not confirm
 her prior addresses, and they plied her with questions that created
 contradictory statements which the officers interpreted as lies.
 The detention went on for about a half hour, with the officers
 finally getting the woman to admit that she had been arrested once,
 which made her fearful that this was going to happen again,
 and the woman started to cry. Only after the officers confirmed that
 there were no outstanding warrants was the woman given the addresses
 of some shelters that she would be able to seek out on her own.

Finally, the reorganization of PACE management also had an impact on how the policy evolved in practice. Initially, the PACE Support Services Coordinator ran the initiative through the city manager's office in charge of public safety, meaning direct supervision over the NPD. In time, however, the coordinator's position was taken out of the city manager's office and placed in the Department of City Planning, where there was no direct administrative connection to the NPD.

Summary: Barriers to Reintegrative Community Policing

The difficulties of forging a "reintegrative" policing agenda is apparent in Norfolk, a significant case given the emphasis on police and human service linkages as part of its PACE program. The success of PACE as a mechanism for integrating law enforcement and other agencies in the interest of order maintenance is not in dispute here. The major players that came to define PACE, Norfolk's civic leagues, code enforcement agencies, and the police, found a natural coalition around NEAT-related activities and aggressive order maintenance. At the same time, substance abuse issues became less prominent as Norfolk's FAST Teams were phased out, and PACE's outreach activities became redefined around domestic crises.

What was lacking in Norfolk, then, was a more assertive role on the part of policymakers (e.g., designers of PACE and city officials) to assure that substance abuse treatment and illicit drug use issues stayed at the forefront of the PACE program. This outcome was hindered by the absence of a vocal client or citizen base to advocate for an expansion of treatment services, as well as the reorganization of PACE's administration. Nevertheless, under the PACE model, the police acted as catalysts in organizing efforts, including the facilitation of access to essential human services. In this context, however, the normative order of policing appeared to favor aggressive order maintenance and NEAT-related interventions. Though not crime-fighting in the traditional sense, officers appeared to embrace the links between social disorder, environmental blight, and criminal activity and were willing to do something about it, a finding consistent with other studies (see, e.g., Kelling and Coles, 1996). At the same time, the police were less willing to embrace reintegrative outreach as a legitimate approach when substance abuse and illicit drug use were concerned.

Public Health Approaches to Drug Control: Baltimore, Maryland Impetus for Reform

Baltimore is a city of approximately 720,000 persons, of which about 59,000 are reported to be drug addicts--about eight percent of its population.(4) Former Mayor Schmoke cited drug use as "the root of most everything wrong in Baltimore" (Matthews, 1997) and took extraordinary steps during his administration toward doing something about the public health side of the problem. In March 1993, Schmoke brought together professionals from the fields of health, law enforcement, and other realms of urban policy to recommend changes in the city's drug policy. This group published a document called the Mayor's Working Group on Drug Policy Reform (City of Baltimore, 1993). It was critical of the national War on Drugs, and called for a comprehensive approach to establishing a "health-based drug policy." In response, Schmoke directed the police and public health and local housing agencies, in particular, to reallocate operational funding to meet the goal of better treating substance abuse (Shenk, 1999). Calling for the creation of a drug court, he also called on the police to "seek responsible methods of balancing and coordinating an aggressive law enforcement intervention with a health-based drug policy" (City of Baltimore, 1993: 20). Community policing was cited as the mechanism to bring these changes about.

Support for Harm Reduction and "Treatment on Request"

Under Commissioner of Public Health Peter Beilenson, the City of Baltimore implemented a "treatment on request" drug strategy that defined drug use as a medical problem (Shenk, 1999). One of the most ambitious needle-exchange programs in the United States was implemented, serving as an HIV/AIDS harm-reduction measure as well as a front door referral point to drug treatment (Beilenson, 1999). Baltimore's drug treatment infrastructure was consolidated into a quasi-independent, nonprofit agency called "BSAS," or Baltimore Substance Abuse Systems. BSAS oversaw the city's 44 publicly funded service contractors who operated at 39 sites throughout the city. Under this reorganization, treatment slots administered by the City of Baltimore, including residential-based and outpatient facilities, detoxification centers, and programs aimed at methadone maintenance and counseling, nearly doubled in the 1990s, from about 4,100 at the beginning of the decade to about 8,000 currently (Baltimore Sun, 1999). An attempt was made to protect available treatment slots for "on request" priorities, despite pressure from the local federally funded High Intensity Drug Trafficking Area program to earmark treatment slots for post-arrest interventions. However, Beilenson set aside only 5.6% of treatment slots for such interventions, arguing that being under arrest should not have to be a precondition for accessing treatment. Thus, community-policing initiatives had unprecedented access to resources if they wished to link drug users with treatment options.

At the same time, Baltimore Police Department (BPD) officials made public statements of their general commitment to a harm-reduction approach to drug control. For example, Police Commissioner Frazier and Health Commissioner Beilenson co-authored an editorial in the Baltimore Sun entitled "For Baltimore, It Will Take a Village." The article called for a harm-reduction approach to dealing with problems of drug abuse, largely through social programs and drug treatment. As part of this approach, Frazier "ordered his troops to concentrate on arresting gun-toting drug dealers rather than drug users, arguing that incarcerating users won't solve problems" (Hermann, 1996a, b). Frazier also initiated a personnel exchange program with officers in The Netherlands so that his officers could witness the Dutch "harm reduction" approach to policing drug abuse. In the Dutch system, foot patrol officers spend time "getting to know everyone on their beat from community leaders to drug dealers" (Hermann, 1996b).

The BPD's support for health-based drug control is exemplified by the choice not to interfere with the city health department's needle exchange program. Outreach workers staffed a mobile van that made regularly scheduled weekday stops in low-income Baltimore neighborhoods. Clients had to be registered with the program, and carried a card signifying their enrollment. Each day, the van's staff workers were allotted a set number of treatment slots that they could make available to clients who wanted them. In this way, the needle-exchange van was not only an HIV/AIDS prevention resource, but also a street-level mechanism for gaining access to the treatment bureaucracy.

Baltimore's officers supported the needle-exchange initiative as a matter of policy. Former Commissioner Frazier and Commissioner Beilenson helped to pass a law that prevented the police from arresting an individual within the City of Baltimore who possessed a syringe that was part of the needle-exchange program. If detained, addicts had to show their enrollment card to a police officer. There were some complaints about officers smashing program syringes, but there were no outcries of harassment on the level of those heard in New York or San Francisco, where officers reportedly hovered around exchange sites as a way to pick off offenders (Bluthenthal et al., 2001).

Community Policing Initiatives

Community policing was never an easy sell in Baltimore. The city's violent crime rates have been among the highest in the country, and the BPD had concentrated its efforts on trying to reduce gang and drug trafficking activities (Taylor, 2001). Within this context, Mayor Schmoke and Commissioner Frazier advocated community-policing reform as a means of showing the department's commitment to community-building objectives, and in particular, addressing a contentious relationship with the city's African-American communities.

Although Commissioner Frazier claimed that "every sworn officer in the city has been trained" and is "fully engaged in community policing" (quotes are from internal BPD policy documents), Baltimore's approach to community policing reform was fragmented. Patrol units were organized around a reactive policing style, with no centralized in-service training for community policing objectives. Still, Commissioner Frazier attempted to merge the more aggressive aspects of order maintenance with the reintegrative aspects of a community policing vision. For example, the centerpiece of Frazier's community policing reform was provision of full-time uniformed officers at 26 Police Athletic League Centers around the city as a way of providing recreational and educational activities for youth. In addition, the BPD deployed specialty officers whose efforts were funded by the federally sponsored Weed and Seed program and the Comprehensive Communities Program (CCP)/Maryland Hotspots. The BPD also implemented its own local efforts through "Neighborhood Service Officers" (who helped with nuisance abatement cases) and foot/bicycle patrols. Our primary focus will be on programs or initiatives that had the greatest potential for linkages with the city's "treatment on demand" objectives.

Organizing Around Nuisance Abatement and Order Maintenance/Openings for Reintegration

Baltimore's key policing initiative that stressed community-building was the Comprehensive Communities Program (CCP). Funded by the Department of Justice, the program was intended to facilitate working linkages between the police and community-based organizations (Kelling et al., 1998). In Baltimore, the CCP was coordinated through the Mayor's Coordinating Council on Criminal Justice, and was initially implemented in the city's southwest neighborhoods beginning in 1995. Community organizers, hired with federal funds through the Citizens Planning and Housing Association (CPHA), acted as full-time staff persons on behalf of neighborhood associations. They served as liaisons to the police and other agencies, organizing various crime prevention programs and strategies. The BPD also received funding for neighborhood-based foot officers, a key provision that swayed citizens to sign on to the CCP concept. CCP officers were to have a mandate of community-building and outreach to citizens.

A key goal of the national CCP program was the integration of "taw enforcement with social programs" (Kelling et al., 1998: 2). In Baltimore, this goal was reflected in an initiative called Community Support for Recovery (CSR), which was part of the city's overall CCP effort. CSR was to promote "assistance in supporting recovering addicts and youth" (unpublished document, Mayor's Office, City of Baltimore). It sought to establish a "support system within the community to help recovering addicts," who must return to "drug-infested communities" once they have left a residential treatment or jail situation. Not a treatment resource per se, CSR instead focused on aftercare resources, transitional housing, job development, and an "informal support network of other recovering addicts and community leaders" (from an internal document, "Comprehensive Communities Program and Baltimore City Hotspots Initiative," n.d.: 5). Through such mechanisms, CCP officers could presumably have an impact on the drug-using population.

Thus, CCP was launched with wide-ranging goals at a time when the Frazier administration was supportive of the city's health-based drug policy. Nonetheless, CCP became structured around nuisance abatement and order maintenance activities. Neighborhood associations worked closely with the nonprofit Community Law Center (CLC) and city code enforcement agencies on civil abatement actions. These actions ranged from getting blighted properties demolished to the eviction of tenants suspected of drug dealing. Officers assisted in this process by helping neighborhood groups to "reclaim" public spaces through environmental design (e.g., blocking escape routes and hiding places used by traffickers), securing vacant properties, and "grime-fighting," e.g., working to clean up trash, abandoned cars, and fostering neighborhood beautification efforts.

Yet, CSR never got off the ground. First, a corruption scandal facing Baltimore's Alternative Sentencing Unit, which administered the program (Baltimore Sun, 1997), hindered the program's implementation. Second, the links between CSR's goals and community policing were never made explicit, and officers failed to adopt the program as a means of reaching out to drug users.

Foot officers were able to achieve some openings for reintegrative approaches through less formal means. One foot officer, Will Nurango, forged a link with a program called YANA, or "You Are Never Alone." YANA is run by a licensed social worker and assists sex workers who are seeking to recover from substance abuse as a pathway to finding legal work. Nurango and other officers in Baltimore's southern district distributed pamphlets from BSAS outlining how to access drug treatment in the city.

Nevertheless, the BPD and administrators from the mayor's office administering CCP never embraced the foot-officer-as-community-builder concept. After federal funding ebbed in 1997, CCP was combined with the State of Maryland's "Hotspots" program. Pamphlets describing the program cited Kelling and Coles' (1996) work on the necessity of prosecuting "quality of life" offenses as the raison d'etre behind community policing. Hotspots was "state-centered" in its style of community policing (Lyons, 1999), creating teams made up of neighborhood-based BPD officers, probation and parole agents, and officials from juvenile justice. Unlike the initial CCP initiative, CCP/Hotspots contained no policy language that encouraged integration with social service agencies. The Mayor's Coordinating Council on Criminal Justice claimed that the order maintenance emphasis of CCP/Hotspots was a response to citizen concerns over the continuing problem of drug trafficking, and no community activists disputed this. Citizens complained that they were less familiar with Hotspots officers. They equated CCP with citizen input and outreach, and Hotspots with enforcement. Attempts to improve police-community relationships in areas designated by Hotspots involved assigning neighborhood officers that were recently trained under Maryland's Police Corps, a program dedicated to methods of community policing. Nevertheless, these officers had a reputation for being filled with "piss and vinegar," as one older officer put it, and were anxious to make arrests to prove themselves among their peers and BPD veterans.

More recently, the city's southwest Hotspots team forged a linkage with a drug abuse relapse prevention and outreach initiative called Recovery in Community (RIC). A RIC staff member serves as the "unofficial member" of the Hotspots team and shares information about local addicts and available drug abuse services. Still, much of the communication is with probation officers who are monitoring the activities of particular clients, and less with police officers.

Retrenchment: More Law Enforcement, Less Social Work

Martin O'Malley was elected mayor of Baltimore in the year 2000. His election was a rebuke to the Schmoke administration's anticrime policy and its failure to reduce Baltimore's murder rate. O'Malley brought in Edward Norris to be police commissioner. Credited with bringing down crime while serving in the New York Police Department, Norris' objective was to turn to "zero-tolerance" methods of order maintenance (Taylor, 2001: 372). He signaled a shift away from reintegrative strategies of community policing when he said "we're not social workers.... I'd like for us to be the police again" (Hermann, 2000). Some officers who were assigned full-time to PAL centers were redeployed to street duty. Arguing that there is little difference between drug use and trafficking since both are criminal matters, Norris repudiated harm reduction and called for stepped-up enforcement of possession and trafficking offenses. Arrests for marijuana possession have been on the rise in Baltimore city and throughout Maryland, a trend that began even before Norris took office (Reuter, Hirschfield, and Davies, 2001).

Although public officials continue to support treatment as a response to drug addiction, this increasingly translates into a policy of court-supervised interventions for arrested offenders. This view has gained support in the wake of growing challenges to policies promoting treatment on request or harm reduction. In 1999, a series of articles in the Baltimore San criticized BSAS and Beilenson for backing a policy that critics claimed lacked supervision and accountability. Maryland's Lieutenant Governor Kathleen Kennedy Townsend, in particular, argued that addicts need the "stick of prison time" to get them to take treatment seriously (Baltimore Sun, 1999). She and others called on the Mayor's Coordinating Council on Criminal Justice to force Beilenson to give up treatment slots to the criminal justice system, reducing his power to oversee voluntary accessibility to treatment slots.

Summary: Barriers to Reintegrative Community Policing

Baltimore's commitment to a health-based drug policy was most clearly expressed in its needle-exchange program and the cooperation of the police in carrying this out. The BPD could have attempted to subvert this program, as has happened in other cities (Bluthenthal et al., 2001), but did not, thanks to the close cooperation of the police and health commissioners, as well as explicit legal support for the program.

Nevertheless, programmatic reforms aimed at changing the normative order of policing concerning drug control were generally unsuccessful. Officer exchanges with The Netherlands and Community Support for Recovery were isolated initiatives whose ideas failed to influence law enforcement outreach. CCP/ Hotspots did provide openings for reintegrative reform primarily through the work of some foot officers. However, the BPD chose not to expand this method of delivering services. Its cooperation with the RIC program remains unclear, although it appears that probation officers are the primary agents engaged in outreach. Indeed, while Baltimore continues to promote a "health-based" drug policy, the BPD has increasingly turned to zero-tolerance measures in dealing with drug addicts. It remains to be seen whether the city can successfully negotiate the potentially adversarial aspects of these policies.

Conclusion: Community-Building and Selectivity in Community Policing

We have argued that community-policing initiatives designed to deal with substance abuse and illicit drug use in Norfolk and Baltimore became defined as order maintenance, despite policy goals that called for linkages with health and human service resources and agencies. This suggests that reintegrative approaches to community policing are difficult to realize, calling into question the role of police officers in community-building efforts that attempt to incorporate the interests and needs of socially marginal populations.

Some argue that the outreach goals of community policing have been misunderstood. Greene and McLanghlin (1993) maintain, for example, that the police can assist communities in "weeding" out the sources of social disorder, but it is up to other community institutions to "seed" the institutional bases for remedial resources. Still, community policing has been promoted as an organizing mechanism that can address basic social problems underlying crime and reach out to a wide array of citizens. The question of reintegrative policing is all the more important given the cutbacks in welfare state services over the past few decades, and the commensurate assumption that the police and other agencies can assume some of these tasks (Kleinenberg, 2001).

What accounts for the distance between rhetoric and reality when it comes to forging linkages between the law enforcement and social service sectors? The answer lies in the structures of reform, the normative order of policing, and the barriers to integrating order maintenance and reintegrative policing. Our research, similar to that of others, shows how community groups with the most social capital tend to shape the community-policing agenda (Pino, 2001; Lyons, 1999). In Norfolk, civic leagues made up of homeowners and local businesses, as well as other politically vocal residents, had the most influence over reforms. Their input illustrates how the social control process can be democratized, but the focus on blight and regulating public order represents a narrowing of policy goals that initially included a commensurate focus on reducing the social strains associated with criminality. This was also true in Baltimore, where community organizations supported treatment on demand in theory, but prioritized nuisance abatement and concerns with physical deterioration under the CCP program. In both cities, an organizational infrastructure evolved that served the objectives of order maintenance, but not a reintegrative agenda. This "selective" response reflects a bias toward the socially marginal in terms of what the state did and did not do (Offe, 1974: 35).

Selectivity in the policy process was equally shaped by the normative order of policing and its impact on the organizational dynamics of PACE. The linkages that emerged between law enforcement, civic leagues, and homeowner associations are not surprising in that all these groups had a common interest in reducing public incivilities, with or without community policing. Order maintenance is perfectly suited to these partnerships, as are the bureaucratic procedures and discretionary practices that shape policing. Order maintenance has always been used to regulate the activities of suspicious citizens. Nuisance abatement, too, resonates with a bureaucratic policing style in that there is a discrete problem to deal with and specific procedures for doing so, including the issuing of citations, the serving of warrants, and court appearances. These procedures provide a much clearer design for police than does one that calls for reaching out to drug-dependent populations or working with social service agencies. Officers also embraced order maintenance because they saw it as consistent with a crime-fighting strategy in the war against drugs (Walker, 1993). In contrast, officers resisted community policing when they perceived that it would make them into "social workers," a finding pertinent here and in other studies of community policing reform (Skogan and Hartnett, 1997; Sadd and Grinc, 1996). Although some argue that training can mitigate this situation (e.g., Skogan and Hartnett, 1997), we concur with Herbert's (1997: 94) observation that policing is infused with a subculture of "machismo/ adventure" that may engender a lack of "patience and compassion" when dealing with citizens. In Norfolk, officers did not want to have to worry about whether "Johnny goes straight" and opened themselves to training only when it emphasized order maintenance goals. In Baltimore, graduates of the Police Corps were full of "piss and vinegar," despite their training as community officers.

Furthermore, while it can be argued that reforms in Norfolk and Baltimore adhered to the community's wishes to "fix" broken windows, and, in particular, to more aggressively police drug crime, law enforcement was less willing to adhere to citizen wishes when these conflicted with the bureaucratic and subcultural imperatives of policing. Foot patrols, which proved to be particularly popular among Baltimore residents, were soon replaced with more remote and punitive methods, disenchanting some neighborhood activists.

Given these findings, we argue that policymakers and academies need to be careful in their assumptions about how easily officers can act as effective and politically independent organizers of diverse community interests. The officers we spoke to in this research expressed reservations about taking the lead as community organizers, preferring to follow rather than spearhead crime prevention efforts. As a result, activists in Baltimore expressed resentment that police agencies got the bulk of funding under CCP/Hotspots when ordinary citizens, they claimed, had spearheaded nuisance abatement efforts. More important, though policymakers left it up to the police to forge linkages with social service and outreach agencies, officers saw these activities as outside the realm of their responsibility and capability. Therefore, even if limited resources are sometimes to blame for the lack of outreach capacity (see Skogan, 1990), this does not explain why officers largely avoided using resources that were readily available to them, such as Norfolk's detoxification center.

Officer discretion is often celebrated as a hallmark of community policing, yet researchers observe that police officers continue to define their tasks narrowly and will be unwilling to step beyond traditional roles without clear indications that they will be rewarded for their efforts (Bayley, 1994). The reluctance of police departments to reorganize their structures and daily activities according to a community policing philosophy exacerbates the situation, and they choose instead to establish specialized programs (Maguire, 1997). Community policing may therefore come and go depending on an outside funding source, and have little impact on policing overall. Reforms in Baltimore and Norfolk were administered as specialized programs that had a minimal impact on day-to-day law enforcement practices.

Nevertheless, a shortcoming of this research is our primary concern with substance abuse and illicit drug use. These behaviors will restrict the actions of the police in a legal sense, as well as in a moral one. Van Maanen (1978) has argued that police discretion in the face of unlawful or disorderly behavior may hinge on whether officers perceive the behavior to be beyond one's control. Consequently, when Baltimore's Edward Norris said that he saw little distinction between users and traffickers in terms of their criminality, this suggested that he saw addiction as a rational choice that is perhaps best handled by the courts. Similarly, officers in Norfolk did not want to "wipe the noses" of drug users. In contrast, there is some evidence that the police are more willing to reach out to groups whose actions appear to be beyond their control, for example, in cases of severe mental illness (Zdanowicz, 2001). This situation is evident in Kalamazoo County, Michigan, where a pilot program is underway in which officers divert the severely mentally ill to services on a "pre-booking" basis. Our results from Norfolk, however, were more mixed with regard to mental health outreach.

We have chosen not to focus on reintegrative policing as it applies to domestic issues and juvenile outreach, areas where there is a growing literature on joint law enforcement and social work interventions (Jolin and Moose, 1997; Guarino-Ghezzi, 1994). The PAL Centers in Baltimore and PACE Family Advocates are examples of such interventions, but the policing role in these endeavors was limited. Chief Norris reduced police involvement in the PAL centers, proclaiming that officers are not "social workers" (Hermann, 2000). Norfolk's police restricted their involvement in PACE Family Advocates to referrals. Morash and Robinson (2002: 189) report on the challenges of getting the police to find innovative ways of dealing with domestic violence incidents (e.g., following up with victims, working with social workers), often because such activities were viewed as falling outside the realm of "real" police work.

The difficulties of implementing reintegrative control methods speak to larger issues having to do with the organizational dynamics of policing; moreover, academics and practitioners debate the role of the police and how to best prevent crime and disorder. Despite their image as "crime fighters," the police spend a significant part of their time dealing with non-crime matters and human crises (Bayley, 1994). In many ways, the community policing movement has been about institutionalizing outreach strategies that take into account this broader police role (Mastrofski, 1983). Yet, we have seen the greatest impetus to reintegrative reform in the courts, not the police. Drug courts, and related methods of "therapeutic jurisprudence," symbolize experiments that largely supplant incarceration with treatment (Nolan, 2001).

Any hope for a reintegrative approach to policing as it pertains to substance abuse and illicit drug use will depend on two unresolved issues. First, though drug courts are growing in popularity as a post-arrest intervention, there is much less consensus on the worthiness of treatment and harm-reduction services as pre-arrest interventions. This allows the police to assume punitive postures when dealing with drug-dependent populations, sustaining the view that drug use is ultimately a criminal problem and leaving it up to the courts and corrections agencies to determine paths to rehabilitation. Consequently, the emergence of a public health response to drug and alcohol abuse as a central part of a crime prevention and community-building agenda seems unlikely as long as drug-dependent populations continue to be stigmatized by law enforcement and society. Second, there is the more general question of how order maintenance and reintegrative approaches to community policing can be integrated. Although the idea of order maintenance would seem to presuppose reintegrative follow-up in theory, this has not been the case in practice.


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(3.) From a speech given to the Governor's Crime Prevention Recognition Luncheon (Richmond, Virginia, 1992).

(4.) Mayor's Substance Abuse Initiative, City of Baltimore (November 1997, internal document).


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BARRY GOETZ, Ph.D., is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Sociology, Western Michigan University, Kalamazoo, MI, 49008 (e-mail: He has written extensively on the relationship of state theory to understanding arson prosecution and fire control, and most recently has been involved in a critical examination on the community policing movement, especially as it pertains to building linkages with health and human services. He has been involved in a statewide evaluation of Michigan's drug courts.

ROGER MITCHELL, Ph.D., is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Psychology, NC State University, Box 7801, Raleigh, NC, 02912 (e-mail: His research interests include the impact of psychosocial factors on health, as well as ecological factors influencing the implementation of effective health promotion programming. His interests include the role of community coalitions in implementing empirically based substance abuse prevention programming. The authors would like to acknowledge the support of the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation. A grant from the RWJ Substance Abuse Policy Research Program provided support for the work described in here.
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Author:Goetz, Barry; Mitchell, Roger
Publication:Social Justice
Date:Mar 22, 2003
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