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To Protect and Serve Themselves: Police in US Politics Since The 1960s

Policing the Police by Stuart Schrader.

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9 views23 pages

To Protect and Serve Themselves: Police in US Politics Since The 1960s

Policing the Police by Stuart Schrader.

Uploaded by

3orbis
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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POLICING THE POLICE

To Protect and Serve Themselves:


Police in US Politics since the 1960s

Stuart Schrader

“Who do you protect? Who do you serve?” You could


hear this chant frequently at protests in recent years, directed at lines of grim-­
faced cops across the United States. Modifying a common police tagline, the
chant raised the possibility that the aggressive police management of Occupy
Wall Street and Black Lives Matter street protests was not simply about maintain-
ing the peace but rather about a more sinister effort to maintain the racial capital-
ist status quo. But the chant also raises a challenging sociological question about
the purpose or function of police and how that has changed over time. How does
the internal organization of law enforcement as an institution interact with the
external role of law enforcement to enact authorized state violence? To ask such a
question is to inquire into the organizational sociology of police, a topic typically
analyzed to understand outward effects of police activity.1 Instead, I am interested
in the inward effects of police activity, particularly in the realm of formal politics.
Changing internal organization, I argue, affects what police activity looks like on
the streets. This article examines how that internal organization has shifted over
the past five decades since the 1960s.
In the United States, the notion that police serve the citizenry and impartially
enforce the law is relatively new. To win widespread belief in this notion was a
political achievement of a coterie of mid-­twentieth-­century police professionals

Thanks to Tyler Wall for helpful advice on an early version of this article. I am grateful to fellow
authors in this issue for their feedback, particularly Graham Denyer Willis. I would also like to thank
Shamus Khan and Madiha Tahir for their support of this publication and their innovative, collabora-
tive approach to review and revision.
1. Among the most important such studies are Armenta, Protect, Serve, and Deport (2017);
Brown, Working the Street (1988); Fassin, Enforcing Order (2013); Herbert, Policing Space (1996);
and Peirson, “Introductory Study of Institutional Racism” (1977).

Public Culture 31:3 doi 10.1215/08992363-7532667


Copyright 2019 by Duke University Press 601

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Public Culture who felt they had to stamp out voluminous evidence to the contrary in many
Americans’ everyday lives. According to widely accepted periodizations, US
police underwent a transformation across the twentieth century. In the first part
of the century, police officers were largely the foot soldiers of partisan political
machines. They had little formal training. Political loyalty was the primary job
requisite. The machines were engines of state formation, with police violence
protecting business interests and assuring racial and ethnic order. Police directly
served powerful political bosses and enforced loyalty with their nightsticks. Once
entrenched, however, these very engines of state formation proved incapable of
ensuring state legitimacy. Cruel violence and clear partisanship, along with class
and racial selectivity, imperiled the ability of the state to govern without seri-
ous challenge from social movements. Police professionalization was one major
response. This effort had two peaks, one in the 1920s and one in the 1960s, with
the first originating within policing and the second imposed more directly by
social-­movement and other public pressures in the high era of civil rights strug-
gles. Professionalization disentangled cops from political machines, raised stan-
dards of training, increased pay, and formalized procedures. Entry-­level educa-
tional requirements increased, reliance on technological innovations intensified,
and rigorous divisions of labor within police forces emerged. Instead of a haphaz-
ard and purely reactive stance toward crime and emergency response, the mark
of professionalized policing was to be methodical planning. Prestige and political
independence were the goals. Now police would better serve to legitimize the
liberal state by enacting violence, or its threat, with fairness and without bigotry.
That project was never completed, but it was the dominant approach among police
for decades. It remains the dream of many police leaders today.2
Yet since the 1970s another period in the evolution of policing has been upon
us, one that scholars have yet to identify and name. If professionalization entailed
the extraction of police from political control of partisan machines so that they
might act as independent executors of law and order, a peculiar result followed.
Once freed of political requirements, police were able to organize themselves as
coherent and semiautonomous political actors with their own interests. This new
purpose and function is inwardly directed, as police have come to protect neither
party machines nor the legitimacy of the state but, rather, themselves. Police assert
political autonomy while also making demands on the state for resources. With
crime as a key campaign issue, and with bipartisan calls for its reduction, elected

2. One classic account is Fogelson, Big-­City Police (1977).

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officials entrusted police to fulfill their political promises. Professionalization, To Protect and
moreover, conferred on police a monopoly of expertise in the particular social Serve Themselves
region of crime control. This situation created a structural trap: police gained
more resources and ideological support even when they could not or did not curtail
crime because officials had made campaign promises that assumed police would
succeed and officials were thus loath to criticize their failures. Police gained pro-
digious political power in the process, touted for isolated successes and fiscally
rewarded because of the mistaken belief that more resources would finally turn
the tide in the fight against crime.
Rather than elected officials demanding loyalty from police, as was the case
during the partisan era, today police demand fealty of elected officials. At the
same time, police continually expand their capital-­intensive repertoires. In this
way, as fiscal Electroluxes sucking up every last penny they can find, the police of
today might be best characterized not as partisan or professional but as profiteer-
ing. The internal logic of police has shifted. This perspective suggests that activ-
ist appeals for fairness and procedural reform in the wake of police killings of
unarmed Black people are asking for a return to a bygone internal logic of police,
one that itself gave rise to the conditions of the present.
To analyze the changing organizational sociology of police, this article exam-
ines the International Association of Chiefs of Police (IACP), a membership
organization composed of police executives from across the United States and
beyond. The IACP got its start in the nineteenth century and has counted among
its members many important figures in the history of US law enforcement. It
became the locus of police professionalization in the 1950s, aiming to sever cops
from political machines once and for all. In this article, I show how the IACP
renovated itself under the leadership of former high-­ranking FBI agent Quinn
Tamm in the 1960s to become a key supporter of what became President Lyndon
Johnson’s “war on crime,” building on the organization’s experience in assist-
ing the federal government in the Cold War effort to raise policing standards
and introduce professionalism in “Third World” countries considered at risk of
communist subversion. At home, the federal government waged war on crime by
providing money and technical assistance to states and municipalities, as well as
private organizations, research firms, and academics. The Office of Law Enforce-
ment Assistance (OLEA), created in 1965, and the much larger Law Enforcement
Assistance Administration (LEAA), which replaced it in 1968, were the vehicles
for the war on crime. This effort marked the apogee of professionalization and set
into motion processes that would usher in the next era of policing, characterized

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Public Culture by a strong rift opening up between professionalizing police executives and rank-­
and-­file officers. After explaining the IACP role in the development of the war on
crime, I examine an episode from the 1980s that revealed this rift. I then turn to
how the IACP attempted to continue to spearhead the self-­conscious organization
of police as a political force throughout the 1990s, when it provided key support
for President Bill Clinton’s anticrime efforts. The IACP has been the crucible and
catalyst for the shifting institutional logic of police, while reaping material ben-
efits from policies it has advocated.

Territorialism and Scales

Police protect and enforce social boundaries. Through professionalization, this


boundary work became a key part of how police approached themselves, orient-
ing officers’ accountability mainly to professional standards rather than to broader
social forces, actors, and institutions. The police came to protect the boundaries
of their profession by orienting expenditure of political capital inward, rather than
using it on behalf of a broader project of securing the legitimacy of elected offi-
cials or governing regimes.3 Notably, a catalyst for this disposition was itself a
territorial border-­crossing effort, as explained below, to impart US-­style profes-
sionalism to police from other countries, which changed the IACP’s relationship
with the federal government. If professionalism was supposed to tame some of the
wild and brutal characteristics of policing, then its unexpected effect was to allow
police to take on a political life of their own.
What professionalism enables has been mutating, particularly as crime rates
have fallen and urban economies and municipal tax bases have metamorphosed.
These transformations did not occur in a vacuum. From the 1960s to the present,
intragovernmental fiscal relations have undergone rescaling processes affecting
police. The war on crime itself rescaled federal-­state-­municipal relations. It aimed
to help jurisdictions with limited fiscal capacity to improve law enforcement by
funneling federal dollars to them, even as other federal funding tightened.4 Yet
it is important to pay attention to actors beyond administrative and elected bod-
ies. Organizations like the IACP act nationally or even internationally but are
composed of place-­bound member police executives. These members, through
these organizations, can “jump scales” to address legislative bodies and audiences

3. The classic sociological text on professionalization is Abbott, System of Professions (1988).


4. The war on crime has been unfortunately ignored in the literature on state-­spatial rescaling:
Cox 2009; Brenner 2009a.

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outside their jurisdictions.5 At the same time, state-­and municipal-­level organi- To Protect and
zations, including unions or union-­like entities that engage in formal or informal Serve Themselves
collective bargaining, are vehicles for pressing sector-­wide demands introduced
to the national agenda by lobbying of the IACP and other organizations but in
distinctly geographically bounded forms. National executive organizations like
the IACP and rank-­and-­file unions converge on the expansion of resources for
police but differ on how best to use police legitimacy and professional autonomy.
The conflict between them can be characterized by looking at the perspectives
each brings to the internal organization of policing. Executives answer to elected
officials, but rank-­and-­file police answer to the internal police hierarchy. This arti-
cle focuses on the efforts of executives and their organizational cohesion, rather
than the rank and file and the effects of unionization. For executives organized
extrajurisdictionally, professionalism enables political autonomy. For rank-­and-­file
officers, political autonomy enables professional insulation.
Internal conflict and variegation within police, however, must further be ana-
lyzed in terms of macro-­level changes in political economy. A key component of
the rescaling processes shaping urban finances and governance in the period under
examination has been what David Harvey (1989) characterized as the shift from
managerialism to entrepreneurialism. US police organizations have also been
caught in this shift. Political demands for crime control in this period have had
great affinities with the economic turn toward urban entrepreneurialism, as city
governments compete with each other, using crime rates as proxies for consumer
desirability. But less appreciated has been the way that this condition has pushed
police departments to become entrepreneurs themselves. They have advocated for
their own interests, within a matrix of urban competitiveness shaped by racialized
fears of crime. At the national scale, organizations like the IACP have pushed for
greater sector-­wide fiscal endowments. At state and local scales, police depart-
ments have competed with each other and competed with other administrative
state agencies for resources. This intrastate competition is nestled within loca-
tional competition among municipalities for mobile capital investment. If neo-
liberalization has entailed concomitant “rollback” and “rollout” moments, inter-
agency competition has meant fiscal rollback for some agencies and fiscal rollout
for others (Peck 2012). Police have frequently won this competition, which helps

5. In the literature on scale, “scale jumping” has typically been considered the activity of social
movements. Here I suggest that it is also a key activity of actors within the state, particularly in the
specific situation of US federalism. At the same time, I recognize the analytic problems of such a
metaphor, which reifies and hierarchizes scales as external to social processes that are better under-
stood as “scaled.” See Brenner 2009b and Miller 2009.

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Public Culture explain why fiscal austerity has not been applied uniformly within and among the
fifty states and their municipalities.

Policing Theories of the State

This research reveals the surprising convergence between orthodox Marxist and
liberal theoretical approaches to police. Both remain ahistorical and inattentive
to the shifts across the twentieth century in policing charted here. Both often
fail to grasp the state itself as complex and contradictory, presuming rather than
demonstrating that state legitimacy is achieved and uniformly shared across state
apparatuses. Neither theorizes how actors within the state instrumentalize legiti-
macy for their own purposes. The orthodox Marxist approach posits the police
as an instrument of class rule, a conduit for exogenous forces to impinge, mainly
through coercion, upon exogenous objects, from dominating to dominated. Police
exist for the “rationalization of social relations,” which remains a key analytic and
political insight, though it cannot explain what police achieve at scales beyond
the street stop or even the factory picket line (Spitzer 1993).6 In such theoreti-
cal accounts, class struggle occurs outside the police. The police consistently
aid class rule by acting according to external dictates transmitted from an often
monolithic-­seeming capitalist class. Similarly, liberal accounts, which focus on
procedural fairness, or lack thereof, in police activity, posit a neutral institution
as the goal (President’s Task Force 2015). Again, class and other forms of conflict
occur outside the police, but occasionally police take a (predictable) side. If the
police can devise procedures that enable them not to take a side, then their neu-
trality will be preserved, and fairness will be within reach.
The alternative approach developed here understands the police as possessing
a specific institutional materiality and a scale-­selective mode of operations. Build-
ing on the insight of Nicos Poulantzas that the state is a social relation — a material
condensation of a balance of forces expressed in a specific form — the police too
might be understood as a social relation, in addition to the rationalizer of social
relations that exist beyond them. The state, for Poulantzas, comprises social rela-
tions expressing and realizing dominant and subordinate forces through specific
agencies or branches. These branches contend strategically with each other within
the state for ideological and resource primacy. Policing is also an internally con-

6. Sidney L. Harring (1983) offers the best account of the orthodox Marxist view, while also sug-
gesting a route out from it that remains within a Marxian theoretical project. He argues that police do
not exist outside class struggle, but he nonetheless insists that the “form” of police has not changed
in over one hundred years. See also Walker 1977.

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tested field, but police are endowed with material interests and political where- To Protect and
withal to realize those interests. Such inwardly directed action is semiautonomous Serve Themselves
from what police outwardly do to secure the conditions for capital accumulation
and enforce and perpetuate racial inequality. Police are not neutral or frictionless
vessels that transmit exogenous forces. Nor are police the thin blue line, as they
have historically understood themselves: the bearers of reason and virtue, against
the chaos of civil society. Rather, police are institutionally striated, with officers
and units channeled in competing directions (technoscience is one, manual labor is
another). Police self-­organize according to this contestation, with capital-­intensive
professionalization as one expression. Police professionalization was, to repur-
pose the words of Poulantzas ([1978] 2000: 184), “imposed on the State by the
struggle of the dominated classes,” who became fed up with the conduct of police,
particularly after World War II. But police action in the current era represents
not simply the reassertion of the power of the dominating classes but the police
acting as a type of dominating class for itself, inscribing its power on the state
and civil society. Police action to rationalize social relations is their downscaling
prerogative of governance; police action to endow themselves with resources and
institutional autonomy from onerous oversight is their upscaling prerogative. This
perspective suggests a superordinate unity behind contending popular understand-
ings of the current era of policing, such as militarized, order maintenance, data
driven, or community policing. All entail organized police activity to bolster their
own power, independence, and resources, conditioned by a macro-­level political
economy of interjurisdictional and intrajurisdictional competitiveness.

Professionalization and Its Discontents

The conditions of the current moment of politically self-­interested advocacy by


police grew out of contradictions of the earlier professionalization moment. The
IACP has been at the center of both. Police have never spoken with a unified
voice. Leaders of the IACP, however, attempted to speak on behalf of the profes-
sion. This move was successful in creating institutional, if not ideological, coher-
ence among police, even as it created new divisions and challenges for purposeful
and unified action. As a private, membership-­based organization and publisher of
a major magazine, The Police Chief, the IACP advocated on behalf of police as a
whole. Yet it did not actually represent them because it was not a democratically
accountable organization. The IACP successfully pushed for two main goals that
secured its status as a representative of law enforcement’s cutting edge: first, for
the creation of a federal program that would enlarge the amount of resources

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Public Culture available to police, and second, for a professionalization and reform program that
would result from this expanded pool of resources.
The IACP’s efforts in the 1960s to garner resources for police opened a Pan-
dora’s box. In general, police have been happy to accept the resources since the
1960s but have been less willing to accept the demand for professionalization.
In effect, a divide opened between the top echelon of police executives and the
rank and file. It was not new but became exacerbated as leaders tried to insist that
their officers undertake new approaches to patrol, investigation, and emergency
and special-­event preparedness. The rank and file saw professionalizing reforms
as a form of undue control over them. These cops used the newfound legitimacy
of police to make fiscal demands on the state. The push to delink the quest for
resources from the quest for reform has been largely successful. Resources flowed,
but the money was not conditional on reforms IACP leaders also wanted, thanks
to the design of the funding infrastructure and to long-­standing conservative nos-
trums, as well as the architecture of federalism. The IACP’s influence over polic-
ing did not diminish greatly, but other contenders, including representatives of
rank-­and-­file police who felt no compunction to advocate reform, took advantage
of the new discursive and ideological space the IACP had created by turning
police into political actors.
Two major impediments to the organization of police as a coherent political
force have characterized the decades since the 1960s. The first preexisted the era
of professionalization: geographic unevenness. Compared to big-­city police exec-
utives, small-­city and rural police executives faced dramatically different social
situations, crime profiles, demographics, and, most importantly, resource avail-
ability. Further, small-­city chiefs have long tended to be more politically conserva-
tive and beholden to local political interests than big-­city chiefs, especially after
the IACP in the 1960s and 1970s successfully advocated new hiring practices for
police chiefs that would enable the appointment of individuals who had not risen
through the ranks of a given force he or she was to oversee. As mentioned, the war
on crime’s availability of funding for police through the LEAA, and its successors,
combined with state increases in anticrime budget appropriations, was one major
effort to decrease fiscal unevenness across the United States. To lessen the impedi-
ment of unevenness was a target of the very political intervention that ushered in
the war on crime. It was a struggle to garner greater shares of the fiscal pie for law
enforcement. Still, the objectives of the war on crime’s fiscal instruments were
innovation and reform. Lawmakers designated how LEAA funding could be used
and kept it from offering direct infusions of cash to pay full salaries of new police
hires, buy new equipment, or purchase land for building new facilities. Police

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chiefs may have desired such infusions in the 1960s, but Congress did not allow To Protect and
such federal funding until the 1994 Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Serve Themselves
Act. By this time, chiefs’ fears that such subventions might come with conditional
strings attached had largely been assuaged — because by then police chiefs were
speaking with a more unified voice. Geographic unevenness was not impervious
to federal outlays.
In contrast, a divide between police chiefs and rank-­and-­file officers, also pre-­
existing, grew as professionalization became dominant. In general, the leading
professionalizers of the mid-­twentieth century saw the route to reform and mod-
ernization of policing as the institutionalization of a more military-­like hierarchy,
with greater controls on the activities of patrol officers. These controls would be
ensured not only by more extensive training requirements but also by explicit
procedural codes. The particular modality of the war on crime, which made most
funding contingent on innovative research-­intensive measures, heightened hier-
archical tensions. These measures often required new everyday routines among
officers. Many chafed at such requirements. Moreover, this division overlapped
with geographic unevenness, as few small-­city chiefs were deeply interested in
innovation, though some realized that innovative and experimental reforms might
raise their own professional profiles while additionally garnering new revenue
streams (Schrader 2017). Perceived as limitations on the sacrosanct and racially
selective discretion of individual rank-­and-­file police officers, professionalization
fostered a backlash that took two forms: first, a rumbling labor revolt that persists
to the present (outside the scope of this article), and second, an effort among police
scientists to create a new police orthodoxy that reasserted the individual officer’s
discretion. This new orthodoxy has earned a range of labels. The most common
and misleading is “community policing,” which makes it seem like this approach
is exogenously directed when in fact it is endogenously directed toward the work
routines, rhythms, and requisites of “the job.” Notably, the intellectuals who have
pushed this new orthodoxy all took advantage of the platforms and funding struc-
tures that professionalization created, from professional magazines to LEAA and
Police Foundation grants (Kelling and Kliesmet 1971; Wilson and Kelling 1982).
Some of them would resist the form professionalization took.
Professionalization was supposed to claim external legitimacy, but this orga-
nizing principle corroded from the inside. The generation of police leaders associ-
ated with professionalization was aging out over the course of the 1960s (Bittner
1978). By the beginning of the 1970s an upstart generation was challenging it,
including academic figures like George Kelling and police executives like Daryl
Gates of Los Angeles and Clarence Kelley of Kansas City (Tafoya 1990). The

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Public Culture fiscal infrastructure to at last achieve professionalization came into being in
1965 with the commencement of the federal war on crime and the creation of
the OLEA. At this moment, professionalizers were accomplishing their goal of
political independence for police, in reaction to the preceding politicized version
of policing. Yet political independence was not enough because police legitimacy
was fragile. Protests against racialized injustice, including police killings of Black
people, spurred nearly all the civil unrest of the 1960s. These destructive events
troubled the hope for slow but steady achievement of professionalism, and persis-
tent corruption in many big-­city forces seemed impervious to professionalization.
For police executives, professionalization would help bolster legitimacy, but the
demands it placed on rank-­and-­file officers were high. Routinization, methodi-
cal planning, and military-­like adherence to standards, which professionalizers
ordered, provoked rank-­and-­file revolt. For its part, the LEAA funded research,
including by the IACP, on how chiefs could protect against such revolt.7 Profes-
sionalization alone did create political independence for police, but police officers
transformed independence into self-­interest.
Fiscal austerity, shrinking union density, and the political popularity of “law
and order” appeals have coincided in the decades since Richard Nixon’s election
to president in 1968. These conditions created the structural context for police to
embody a new type of authoritative political actor. In the period while fiscal auster-
ity shaped government budgets across the United States and union density shrank,
police in most locales managed to buck these two major trends, in part because
union or union-­like activity dovetailed with police-­managerial efforts to resist
austerity even as rank-­and-­file demands clashed with managerial efforts to reform
work routines. In the contemporary moment of precipitously declining crime rates
in most areas of the United States, the capacities police developed in their entre-
preneurial or rollout efforts have now become surplus. Rather than allow these
capacities to evaporate, police protect them. Police have become unwilling to let
go of their competitively realized gains, placing their self-­interested advocacy at
an increasing distance from achieving their nominal mission of crime control.

International Associations

The initial impetus for police to issue greater demands on the federal govern-
ment had an unlikely origin: a forgotten Cold War effort to prevent communist
revolution across the globe. From 1955 through 1962, the IACP held a contract

7. The LEAA issued a grant of over $160,000 to the IACP for research on strike activity among
police in the 1970s, resulting in William D. Gentel and Martha L. Handman’s Police Strikes (1980).

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with US foreign aid agencies to coordinate training of police executives from To Protect and
the “developing” world in the United States. Police from Iran, South Vietnam, Serve Themselves
Somalia, Chile, and many other countries visited stationhouses in US cities and
towns, as well as a range of other destinations, including colleges, manufacturers
of technical policing implements, military bases, prisons, and so on. The idea
was to demonstrate the US model of professional policing, as well as to cultivate
relationships between these police officials and US intelligence agencies. At its
peak, the program brought upward of three hundred foreign police officials to the
United States annually. Although the IACP admitted there were inefficiencies in
its coordination of the program, the program still entailed a lot of work. Around
sixty thousand days of local police work went into hosting, orienting, and training
visiting police officials. Many US chiefs, though they felt honored to be included,
did find the visits burdensome. And neither the IACP nor Washington reimbursed
them for the effort and time their officers expended, beyond direct costs for the
visit. The rewards were intangible: playing a key role in facilitating the prosecu-
tion of the Cold War in “Third World” countries conferred a sense of purpose and
belonging on underresourced US police.
Changes within the IACP were afoot. The new executive director and editor
of The Police Chief, Quinn Tamm, was responsible for the IACP’s shifting pos-
ture. He believed there was an opportunity for the IACP, and its member police
chiefs around the country, to accelerate the movement to professionalize policing.
The IACP was relocating to a new building in Washington, DC, and its leaders
had developed plans to create an international police college, along with other
training initiatives. Such growth could allow it to spearhead all training of police
officials visiting from overseas. A new contract that might expand the IACP role
in national security efforts could provide more money for other IACP program-
ming, while also bolstering the organization’s credibility as the leading voice of
police professionals. And, most importantly, Tamm, who had once been close to
J. Edgar Hoover, was trying to assert independence from the FBI director, raise
his own prominence nationally, and give the IACP a unique institutional identity.8
In 1962, the newly formed Agency for International Development (AID)
decided not to renew the existing contract with the IACP to maintain the training
program. IACP officials were infuriated. The contract’s cancellation seemed to

8. Director, IACP Training Division to Chief, Public Safety Division. September 13, 1961, IACP
Move to New Headquarters Building, entry 29, box 8, RG 286, National Archives and Records
Administration (hereafter NARA); Edward C. Kennelly, Memo for the Record, December 29, 1962;
Quinn Tamm to Fowler Hamilton, February 2, 1962; Edward C. Kennelly, Memo for the Record,
March 9, 1962, IACP 1962, entry 29, box 1, RG 286, NARA. Caplan 1973; Schrader 2019.

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Public Culture be a setback for the organization at a crucial moment. AID had decided to build
its own International Police Academy, rendering the IACP’s planned international
police college superfluous. The response of Tamm and the IACP’s Training Divi-
sion to the cancellation was petty. The IACP returned file cabinets to AID without
the files in them, for example, claiming the files were now IACP property. Tamm
sent letters to colleagues imploring them to support him and even interfere with
future AID efforts. And he demanded a public explanation and apology from AID.
Once the bitterness subsided, however, the experience proved useful. It turned out
to be a rehearsal.9

Tamm’s Take-­Home Lessons

The abrupt cancellation of the IACP’s contract to facilitate foreign police training
planted seeds that would blossom in the federal war on crime. Tamm, already
deeply knowledgeable about law enforcement, gained experience in negotiating
with intricate federal bureaucracies. Three aspects of the unraveling of the AID-­
IACP relationship stuck with him to shape how the IACP would advocate for the
war on crime. First was the avoidance of external control. Tamm worried that
AID might disburse funding to other institutions instead of the IACP, which could
place civilians without policing expertise in positions to exercise influence over
police. That never happened, but Tamm repeated this very concern a few years
later when advocating federal anticrime legislation. Similarly, he and other IACP
officials continually denounced civilian review boards (Police Chief 1963b, 1964;
Murdy 1965). Deeply conservative senators who supported the legislation con-
curred with this inclination. North Carolina’s Sam Ervin insisted to Tamm that a
key legislative goal was avoiding a “federally directed and federally implemented
program.”10 One way to do so was not to give a direct oversight role to Attorney
General Ramsey Clark, whom conservatives in Congress distrusted. Tamm him-
self made just such a request, despite his own politically cautious support of the
administration.11 The cops’ demand to avoid external control of policing produced

9. Sixth Meeting of the Interdepartmental Subcommittee on Police Advisory Assistance Pro-


grams, May 11, 1962; Johnson F. Munroe to Daniel Van Buskirk, March 19, 1963; Quinn Tamm to
Ralph A. Butchers, January 11, 1963; Edward C. Kennelly to Byron Engle, March 4, 1963; Quinn
Tamm to Byron Engle, December 17, 1962, IACP 1963, entry 29, box 1, RG 286, NARA.
10. US Senate, Hearings before a Subcommittee of the Committee on the Judiciary, July 22, 23,
and 30, 1965, 89th Cong., 1st sess. (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1965), 90.
11. Clark turned out to be in agreement with Tamm on the need to “rely on the expertise and the
needs of the states and local communities,” which “bear the heaviest burden of law enforcement.”
Tamm told President Johnson’s aides that Clark was “the most sincere, the most intelligent and the

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the peculiar shape of the Omnibus Crime Control and Safe Streets Act of 1968, To Protect and
which created state planning agencies to determine how block grants would be Serve Themselves
distributed. The legislation empowered governors, who had not exhibited much
desire to be so empowered and were even more susceptible to complaints from
police than congressional representatives. Keeping federal oversight or demo-
cratic control out of the legislation would ultimately be gravely consequential for
the transformation charted here. The protection of local autonomy and sanction-
ing of patrol discretion led to a lack of accountability that emboldened police
politically.
Second, Tamm recognized the power of Washington’s purse. During the
seven years of the IACP program for foreign police, multiple prominent policing
experts realized that money from Washington might be a useful stimulant to local
law enforcement, long hamstrung by the limited fiscal capacities of states and
municipalities. Among these men — they were all men — were reformist chiefs
with whom Tamm collaborated, including members of the executive board of the
IACP. Herbert Jenkins of Atlanta, for example, was the most nationally prominent
police chief from a southern state, and he became an important ally of the John-
son administration in its anticrime efforts. Jenkins had urged the IACP to com-
plain up the AID ladder about the contract’s cancellation, unaware that the foreign
police assistance program was not answerable to the AID hierarchy but was nearly
autonomous owing to its unique national security role. Nonetheless, this disposi-
tion suggests that the chiefs were becoming aware of their own leverage, political
capacity, and power, particularly as elected officials across the political spectrum
deemed police to be a bulwark against ongoing civil unrest among minoritized
peoples.12
Third, beyond Washington, police executives recognized that private founda-
tions could be useful in transforming policing. Already by 1959, policing experts
working in networks affected by or adjacent to the AID-­IACP relationship dis-
cussed ways to garner funding for the modernization of US policing that did not
necessarily entail any foreign-­affairs entanglement, such as from the Ford Founda-

most helpful toward local law enforcement” of the many attorneys general he had known in his
thirty-­seven-­year career. Still, Tamm specifically asked Congress in open session to ensure that the
attorney general “have the benefit and counsel of professional state and local police executives.” Hor-
ace Busby to Marvin Watson, February 1, 1968, FG 135; White House Central File, box 186, Lyndon
Baines Johnson Presidential Library, Austin, TX (LBJL); Department of Justice, Law Enforcement
Assistance, Part V, Administrative History, box 3, LBJL, 4.
12. Excerpt from Minutes of the Meeting of the Board of Officers of the IACP, September 18,
1962, IACP 1963, entry 29, box 1, RG 286, NARA.

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Public Culture tion. Shortly, exactly this type of foundation funding started to become available,
with Ford granting $1.46 million to the IACP, the Southern Police Institute, and
two law schools. Ford and the IACP cosponsored a 1963 conference titled “Police
Responsibility in Race Tension and Conflict,” attended by police administrators
from across the South. It included addresses by African American leaders Roy
Wilkins and James Farmer along with several prominent law-­enforcement figures.
The IACP under Tamm’s guidance led the charge to pursue private funding. In
1973, the Ford Foundation provided the seed funding for the Police Foundation,
which became a competitor with the IACP that was not beholden to the demands
of the chiefs and could focus solely on innovative research, some of which under-
mined reigning orthodoxies of the era of professionalization (Ford Foundation
1964; Detroit Tribune 1964; Police Chief 1963a; Murakawa 2014: 74 – 75; Schrader
2019). Altogether, avoiding external control, drawing on the federal purse, and
relying on foundations would all become key planks of the war on crime. They
also empowered police to become self-­interested.

Crime Bills

Although the 1960s closed with the election of a new president on a platform of
“law and order,” Richard Nixon’s predecessor’s support for a war on crime sur-
prised many police themselves. Once active, this war effort created new oppor-
tunities for police to act in self-­interested ways. At the decade’s outset, few cops
or legislators thought federal intervention into policing would be possible. Police
were wary of change. They were skeptical of federal action, even in the name of
improving the policeman’s lot. Many police officers could not easily disentangle
new civil rights legislation, which seemed to intrude on local prerogative, from
other forms of attention from liberals in Washington. Nevertheless, under the
sway of prominent social scientists and jet-­setting police reformers, the Johnson
administration (1963 – 69) was poised to act. Urban unrest in northern cities in
the summer of 1964 proved the necessity of upgrading police capabilities (Hin-
ton 2016). But on what terms? The IACP’s membership “wanted more men and
equipment — not studies and innovative programs.” Members even criticized the
new Law Enforcement Assistance Act by issuing a resolution because the federal
government seemed to be going too far, placing its coarse hands on the shoulders
of municipal cops (ACIR 1977: 10). Tamm saw things differently. In the pages of
The Police Chief, he rebuked the membership for passing this resolution. Soon the
OLEA awarded the IACP $800,000 in grants ($6.4 million in 2018), with more to
come. Tamm knew he had made the right decision.

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The availability of federal money changed the attitudes of IACP members. To Protect and
The OLEA in effect created a constituency that would defend federal funding Serve Themselves
for law enforcement, even though the legislation was designed to foster research
and reform. IACP leaders were genuine in their belief that funding for research
and reform would diminish crime and raise the stature of the police. But that was
beside the point. The incentive to support federal funding now existed, regardless
of its use. When Congress lessened appropriations for the OLEA in 1966, Tamm
used his acid tongue, usually reserved for supposed communists, to attack legisla-
tors for their malfeasance (Lewis 1965; New York Times 1966; Caplan 1973). He
hoped a much bigger anticrime bill was in the works. To indicate the two-­way,
mutually beneficial relationship between Johnson’s anticrime push and the IACP’s
demands, the president spoke at the IACP annual meeting in 1967. Within a year,
Congress passed a bill that used block grants and lodged control of the LEAA’s
planning dimensions with state-­level agencies controlled by governors. It was an
inefficient system. But the IACP came to benefit from discretionary spending in
Washington, under the Safe Streets Act’s provisions.
Becoming voracious, the IACP continued to lobby. The effort was not without
dangers. The organization risked its own tax-­exempt status through aggressive
lobbying at a time when such activity was considered unseemly for nonprofit enti-
ties. By accepting the risk and winning its actual demands, the IACP helped pave
a path toward such self-­interested lobbying by other similar organizations. When
funding for the LEAA came up for renewal in 1970, again Tamm and the IACP
were ready to offer “strong support” for the federal effort. This support helped
dramatically expand a program that was widely considered in Washington not
to have gotten off to an efficacious start. Notably, Tamm did not agree with pre-
vailing criticisms of the LEAA, which pointed to the inefficiencies of the block
grant system and the tendency of this system to shower funding on areas outside
the major cities, away from the hotspots of crime. Instead, he savvily concurred
with the thrust of the block grant system by arguing that a modification that might
direct funds toward the big cities in a more focused manner would only “dislo-
cate” crime from “the central city into the suburban environs.”13 Not only did this
argument resonate with racist fears of Black crime spreading from beyond cities
into growing white-­flight bedroom communities, it tried to ensure that small-­
town IACP-­member chiefs would still have a shot at securing some funding from

13. Statement of Quinn Tamm, Executive Director, IACP, March 17, 1970; Hearings before Sub-
committee No. 5 of the Committee on the Judiciary, House of Representatives, 91st Cong., 2nd sess.,
820 – 21.

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Public Culture LEAA grants, particularly if they were proactive and innovative. Most impor-
tantly, Tamm also asked Congress to rewrite the law to allow discretionary LEAA
funding to be awarded to private-­sector projects directly so that private nonprofit
organizations like the IACP might be able to win such funding without subcon-
tracting through a public unit. It was an arcane request that was not fulfilled until
the 1973 renewal of the legislation. Previously, private organizations needed to be
included in state-­level criminal-­justice planning grants or they could be awarded
funds through the LEAA’s in-­house research institute. As the amount of money
the LEAA distributed on a discretionary basis grew, from $4.35 million in 1969
to $87.9 million in 1973, the range of recipients expanded (LEAA 1973). J. Edgar
Hoover’s death in 1972, moreover, created new breathing room and possibilities
within law enforcement nationally. With legislative change, the door opened to a
much greater private-­sector role in expanding the criminal-­justice sector, effec-
tively creating a self-­interested lobby that worked parallel to law-­enforcement offi-
cials in government. It was also independent from the direct police function of the
state. A revolving door opened, as the ideological and practical valorization of the
private sector gained a foothold within the criminal-­justice system.

Chief versus Chiefs

By the early 1980s, the criminal-­justice landscape was shifting. The new, inter-
nally directed logic of policing had not quite coalesced, but the professionalizer
generation of the 1960s was being eclipsed. Tamm had retired from his position
with the IACP. The LEAA was on life support by the end of President Jimmy
Carter’s administration (1977 – 81), with some modifications to the governing leg-
islation under his watch but no radical shifts. Congress finally pulled the plug in
1982. Crime remained a pressing political problem at local levels, but because
Carter rarely spoke of it, his administration lavished little attention on federal
anticrime efforts. President Ronald Reagan (1981 – 89) addressed the IACP annual
meeting in 1981, and high-­level officials from his administration tried to draw
attention to the problem of drugs at the next year’s annual meeting. With the
support of the IACP, Reagan exercised a pocket veto of crime-­related legislation
passed by Congress in 1982 that, among other goals, was to create a new federal
“drug czar.” (In 1988 he signed legislation that did create a drug czar position.)
Meanwhile, a dispute roiled police executives. Although not a fight between
executives and rank and file, it emblematized the division between proactive pro-
fessionalizers and those who wanted to be left alone, simmering since the 1960s.
At its center was Patrick V. Murphy, a top OLEA official in the 1960s and then the

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commissioner of the New York Police Department. In 1973, Murphy became the To Protect and
president of the Police Foundation. This organization funded disruptive research Serve Themselves
and questioned prevailing orthodoxies. Although Murphy was a consummate
reformer and professionalizer, the Police Foundation’s research, such as the well-­
known Kansas City Patrol Experiment, overseen by George Kelling, came to
upend shibboleths of professionalized policing. Murphy publicly criticized rac-
ism among police officers, and under his leadership the Police Foundation helped
create additional professional organizations, like the Police Executive Research
Forum and the National Organization of Black Law Enforcement Executives. The
former was a top-­echelon advisory group of law-­enforcement elites that would
come to have the ear of policy makers, without any accountability to a member-
ship. These moves heightened tensions within the profession.
Murphy’s outspoken approach earned him enemies. In New York City, as com-
missioner, he faced a five-­day wildcat strike by as much as 85 percent of the force
in January 1971. In August 1972, he instituted a new policy on the use of deadly
force only in defensive situations, which was supposed to replace the customary
fleeing felon posture — which allowed police to shoot suspects in the back. In
1980, he attempted to get the IACP to adopt an analogous defensive policy. He
failed miserably. The membership reaffirmed its commitment to the outdated flee-
ing felon approach.14 Already in 1978 Murphy had excoriated the “stranglehold”
of small-­town chiefs on the IACP, complaining that their “needs, fears and level
of attainment and education . . . predominate in setting” its “priorities and tone”
(Henry 1978). How to divvy LEAA funds was the question. The IACP, in his
view, pushed for too much money to go to relatively pacific small towns. Murphy’s
Police Foundation, like the Police Executive Research Forum that he was address-
ing, was not beholden to conservative small-­town chiefs. But these comments
came back to haunt him, not only derailing his attempt to get the IACP on board
with a global limit on discretionary use of deadly force, but in 1982 leading the
censorious IACP to expel him from its member rolls.
This expulsion indicated how both Tamm and Murphy — and, by extension the
professionalizers — were losing their grip on the profession. The two had been
allies for over a decade. Tamm defended Murphy, calling the episode “shabby”
and “outrageous” (UPI 1982; Herbers 1982). He also decried the attempt to impose
“conformity” among IACP members — exactly what he had tried to do a decade
and a half earlier in the effort to push passage of federal anticrime legislation.

14. The Supreme Court’s 1985 decision in Tennessee v. Garner held that deadly force cannot be
used against unarmed fleeing felony suspects. The ruling’s effects have been negligible.

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Public Culture Although Murphy may have been correct to identify a geographic divide within
the IACP, he miscalculated how committed the organization was to garnering
widespread political support and rejecting criticism. The battle was not only over
how best to spend federal funds; it was over how the police as a unit would be
treated. In the past, the thinking was that greater resources would lead to respect
for the police. Now the police would wield respect like a pistol in a stickup. The
IACP in 1982 used its annual meeting to urge greater federal spending, invoking
familiar specters, like communism, and relatively new ones, like drugs. Proudly,
one IACP member reflected on changing public perceptions of the profession:
“We used to be ‘no good, rotten pigs’ ” (Harris 1982). The new esteem cops gar-
nered was the result of professionalization, but esteem alone was insufficient.
They needed money more than legitimacy. Neither protesters in the streets nor
longtime members like Murphy could apply derogatory labels by the 1980s, went
the thinking, if Reagan would allow more funding to become available. And soon
he did. Reagan pushed Congress to pass an extensive new federal crime bill to
his liking in 1984, which redesigned the law-­enforcement assistance program and
included provisions to expand asset forfeiture and standardize sentencing. The
former would incentivize a range of law-­enforcement activities that had little to
do with crime control.

Making Money Moves

By Bill Clinton’s presidency (1993 – 2001), the IACP had overcome some of the
rifts among police executives that characterized the preceding two decades. In
the 1990s, the IACP mobilized its membership to act in directly political ways.
It created a legislation committee to monitor laws that might affect expenditures
for law-­enforcement agencies and lobby state and federal officials. Further, The
Police Chief started featuring a monthly “Legislative Alert” section. A “Congres-
sional Update” sometimes accompanied the section, offering a tabular listing of
roll-­call votes in Congress on legislation of concern to IACP members. This direct
monitoring of the voting records of elected officials illustrates a shift: not only
was the IACP trying to shape anticrime legislation, it was trying to make elected
officials accountable to police, rather than the other way around. IACP president
Sylvester Daughtry, Jr. (1994), described his goal as increasing the IACP’s vis-
ibility. He felt he had been successful, with press appearances and “the presence
of the association’s leadership at numerous meetings and press conferences” with
Clinton, the vice president, the attorney general, and the FBI director. The posi-

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tions of the IACP and the Clinton administration on crime policy were becoming To Protect and
virtually indistinguishable. Serve Themselves
Like Johnson and Reagan, Clinton addressed the IACP’s annual meeting to
speak about his signature anticrime push. Yet the two prior presidents came to
the IACP seeking support for their efforts. The timing of the 1994 Violent Crime
Control and Law Enforcement Act differed. Clinton addressed the IACP immedi-
ately after its passage, discussing how funds were already being disbursed within
two weeks of the beginning of the fiscal year. He informed the assembled chiefs of
the benefits they would reap from the new legislation. Clinton departed the meet-
ing with an IACP baseball jacket emblazoned with the words “America’s Chief”
on the back, unthinkable for Lyndon Johnson, who painstakingly avoided the
appearance of federal control over local police. Three decades of federal efforts,
however, had allayed police chiefs’ and doctrinaire conservatives’ fears that fed-
eral funding would come with strings attached. By 1994, the legislation provided
$8.8 billion for hiring new cops, an entailment all the prior crime bills avoided. In
fact, municipalities with populations under fifty thousand, once the most reluctant
to back federal expenditures because of worries about loss of prerogative, would
now receive fast-­tracked funding through a simplified application process that did
not require a trained grant writer (Kime 1994; Kenworthy 1994). The legislation
created its own constituency whose thirst for resources would be difficult to slake.

Conclusion

Historians and political scientists have recently demonstrated the importance of


the federal government in fostering aggressive and expansive policing and incar-
ceration in the United States since the 1960s (Hinton 2016; Murakawa 2014). But
lower-­scale police were not simply recipients of imperatives from Washington.
They also became active and self-­interested agents of their own destiny by organiz-
ing and reorganizing. This article has described the federal relationship with lower-­
scale governing units as mediated by organizations that allow extrajurisdictional
cohesion and political power, particularly the IACP. It has also argued that this
mediation has itself transformed in purpose over time. Without this perspective, it
becomes impossible to explain how the two greatest crises involving police in the
past half-­century — the “civil disorders” of the 1960s and Black Lives Matter —
led to such divergent outcomes, with professionalization efforts in the past and
their repudiation in the present.
To assume that the federal government could transmit its dictates to the local

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Public Culture level without passing through a mediating institution is to revert to an unsupport-
able view of law enforcement as neutral and inert. Instead, law enforcement, and
particularly policing, as this article demonstrates, is a polyglot institution that has
a specific materiality and identifiable interests — and cleavages around those inter-
ests. These interests have been mutable, relationally shifting in response to exog-
enous transformations and propelling endogenous transformations. Among the
exogenous transformations has been the availability of funding from the federal
government, which spurred the increase of available funding from state govern-
ments. Since the 1990s, police have been remarkably successful in promoting an
exception to fiscal austerity. This position was not inherent but had to be devel-
oped through intensive efforts to organize police politically into an institution with
leverage. Elected officials hailed police as political actors by answering political
support with fiscal outlays. But now elected officials are increasingly beholden to
police, who make demands that have little to do with their working conditions or
the reality of the crime or terrorism they are called on to fight. Strangely, the only
restraint on the political power of police today seems to be the growing divergence
between police executives, who typically serve at the pleasure of elected officials
and thus are responsible for producing measurable results, and the rank and file,
who answer to no one but themselves. As one result, US citizens have little official
information on the numbers of people police kill. Rather than submitting to over-
sight, what police seek is the continual endowment of their sector with resources.
It is a profiteering outlook, attached to a capacity for organization, that deserves
its own analytic attention, separate from the way police protect and serve social
conditions amenable to capital accumulation. A critique of policing that fails to
address this specific institutional materiality is destined to fail politically in its
quest to shrink the power of police.

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Criminal Justice 14, no. 2: 205 – 27.
UPI (United Press International). 1982. “The International Association of Chiefs
of Police.” July 8.
Walker, Samuel. 1977. A Critical History of Police Reform: The Emergence of
Professionalism. Lexington, MA: Lexington Books.
Wilson, James Q., and George L. Kelling. 1982. “Broken Windows: The Police
and Neighborhood Safety.” Atlantic Monthly, March. 29 – 38.

Stuart Schrader teaches Africana studies and sociology at Johns Hopkins University.
He is the author of Badges without Borders: How Global Counterinsurgency Transformed
American Policing (2019), and his writing has also appeared in Humanity, Journal of
Urban History, and NACLA Report on the Americas, among other venues.

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on 04 June 2020

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