Changing form without affecting function

Oct 24, 2024 Peeping Tom

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Kaieteur News – The idea of reform is seductive. It conjures images of progress, of things being made better, more efficient, more just. Reform implies that something is being fixed, that the old ways—imperfect as they were—are being shed like worn-out clothes, to be replaced by something smarter, sleeker, more functional.

But reform, if undertaken merely for the sake of itself, can be just as futile as doing nothing at all. In fact, it can be worse: it can create the illusion of change while the underlying problems remain unaddressed, festering under the surface. Reform becomes a check-box, a symbolic gesture, when its only goal is to satisfy the reformer’s ambition, not the society’s needs.

Nowhere is this truer than in the case of policing. Police reform is one of those perennial talking points that every politician, at some point or another, promises to deliver. And why not? It sounds noble and necessary. But the question that gets lost in the noise of all this reform talk is a simple one: are these reforms making our streets, homes, businesses, and communities safer? If not, then we must ask ourselves—what exactly is the point?

In Guyana, the conversation about police reform has been ongoing for years. Various administrations have rolled out their plans with much fanfare and proclamations of grand overhauls. But even with these reforms, crime continues to plague our towns and villages, and fear is a constant companion for many. So what is the problem?

The issue is that reform efforts are too often inward-looking. They focus on the structure, the processes, the procedures of the police force itself. We tinker with rank systems, move officers around, issue new uniforms, establish protocols, and create committees. We regionalize the force—ostensibly to bring it closer to the people—but in a country like Guyana, where regions stretch out vast and thin, this solution is a poor fit for the geography. The reforms are made, the system is restructured, and yet, in too many cases, the people remain just as vulnerable, just as exposed to crime as before. This, then, is reform for reform’s sake—an exercise in changing form without affecting function.

The Guyana Police Force, as it was originally conceived, was not built for modern crime prevention. It was designed to control the local population, particularly in colonial times, when its primary function was to maintain order on the plantations. The focus was never on ensuring the safety of ordinary citizens but rather on protecting the interests of the colonial elite. Although the country has long since thrown off the yoke of colonialism, the police force has retained much of its old structure and ethos—one that is top-down, centralized, and not entirely geared towards the protection of individual communities.

Crime is not a centralized problem. It occurs in specific places, in specific ways, often disproportionately affecting the most vulnerable communities. A police force that is too rigidly centralized will always struggle to respond effectively. Even the much-touted regionalization plan under the David Granger administration, while an acknowledgment of the need for decentralization, fell short because Guyana’s regions are too vast and its settlements too scattered. It is simply not possible to govern policing in such large regions from a single central hub, especially when resources are stretched so thin.

What we need, instead of more top-down reform, is a fundamental shift in how we think about policing. We need to ask the right question: how can we make our streets, homes, businesses, and communities safer? The answer to that question lies not in the corridors of power but on the streets themselves. The goal of police reform must be outward-facing. It must focus on the impact it has on the people it is meant to serve.

To do this, we must embrace a model of policing that is decentralized, not just regionally but locally. Policing should be rooted in the communities themselves. Officers need to know the areas they patrol, to be familiar with the rhythms of life in those neighborhoods, to have relationships with the residents. This is not to suggest a return to neighborhood watch programs or vigilantism, but rather a system where local officers are accountable to the people they serve, not just to a distant headquarters.

The police cannot be everywhere at once, but they can be more strategic. This means targeting resources where they are most needed—high-crime areas, vulnerable communities, and places that have been traditionally underserved. It also means shifting the focus from reacting to crime to preventing it. Crime prevention isn’t just about patrolling more frequently or locking people up.

Reforms that fail to consider these factors will always be hollow. They may change the look of the police force, give it a new logo or a new slogan, but they will not change the reality on the ground. And if people do not feel safer, then the reform has failed.

In the end, the effectiveness of police reform must be measured not by the satisfaction of politicians or even police officers themselves but by the sense of security experienced by the average citizen. Reform for the sake of reform is a distraction, a means of keeping up appearances while the real issues go unresolved. The goal must always be clear: safer streets, safer homes, safer businesses, and safer communities. Anything less is simply not good enough.

 

 

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• ambition, businesses, homes, preventing, reformer’s, Streets

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