Stoneham, Mass.
With violent crime on the upswing in the U.S., it sometimes seems that a sprinkle of magic dust could come in handy as police struggle to restore law and order.
But it鈥檚 another kind of magic鈥攖he magic of ordinary human connection鈥攖hat Jay Paris likes to talk about in describing his work with black and Hispanic teenage boys and the mostly white officers who patrol the dangerous neighborhoods where they live. A training program he developed 12 years ago has helped reduce youth crime and made communities safer. It鈥檚 鈥渕agic,鈥� he says, to watch kids and cops come together and 鈥渇ind all kinds of commonalities.鈥�
Mr. Paris founded and leads the Youth and Police Initiative, a division of the North American Family Institute, a social-services agency headquartered north of Boston along the Route 128 technology corridor. YPI takes its cue from the strategy known as community policing, which encourages officers to get to know the neighborhoods they serve with the aim of stopping crimes before they happen.
鈥淵ou can鈥檛 arrest your way to public safety,鈥� Mr. Paris elaborates. 鈥淵ou have to build relationships in the community. One of the most critical points is with teens. If they have an experience that shifts their understanding of what鈥檚 across the 鈥榖lue line,鈥� it can be transformational鈥� for a neighborhood. YPI, he says, helps 鈥渒ids and cops learn to talk at a more significant level, in a way that starts to build some trust and break down stereotypes.鈥� Twenty-five cities, including Boston, Hartford, Conn., and Providence, R.I., have implemented YPI training in housing projects and other high-crime neighborhoods鈥攚ith encouraging results.
The training is small-scale and targeted, focusing on one group of 12 to 15 teenagers at a time. Participants are mostly boys, and Mr. Paris estimates 98% are minorities鈥擜frican-American, Caribbean-American, Hispanic. The teens are selected by local schools, youth organizations and, in some cases, parole departments or schools for juvenile delinquents.
One incentive to join is an $80 gift card each participant receives on completing the program. Another is food, no small attraction for teen boys. Dinner is served at every session. The money 鈥渉elps get them in the door,鈥� Mr. Paris says, but 鈥渋n the end it鈥檚 not just the money, it鈥檚 the idea that they are helping鈥� by sharing their point of view with local police.
The YPI training entails six after-school sessions. In the first four, each boy develops a personal narrative of his life to present to the eight to 12 police officers who will join them for the final two sessions. The kids are asked to speak about 鈥渃hoices they鈥檝e made in four areas of their lives: peers, school, community and home,鈥� Mr. Paris explains. 鈥淎 boy might say, 鈥楢t home, I stole some money from my mother. At home I鈥檝e been in too many fights with my brother.鈥� . . . We have them practice at every session, standing up and sharing their choices in front of the group.鈥�
The youths are nervous at first but soon get past the jitters. 鈥淚 think they look forward to this opportunity. 鈥楾hey鈥攖he police鈥攁re going to hear me.鈥� . . . We all have a powerful need to be heard,鈥� Mr. Paris says. 鈥渁nd teenagers don鈥檛 often have a chance to be heard by adults, to say nothing of the icons of authority in their community.鈥�
When the cops show up in Session 5, they鈥檙e 鈥渁mazed that these 15-, 16- or 17-year-old kids can actually stand up in front of police officers they鈥檝e never met and share these intimate parts of their lives,鈥� Mr. Paris says. 鈥淭hen we ask the police officers to do the same. We give them a few minutes to draw a lifeline of how they got from being teenagers to making the decision to join the police.鈥�
Like the youngsters, the officers 鈥渁re generally nervous at first, as they aren鈥檛 used to sharing that kind of stuff鈥攏ot even among their peers,鈥� Mr. Paris continues. 鈥淏ut the inspiration from the kids really does push the whole process forward, and the officers always delve deeper into their experiences and start really sharing about their lives.鈥�
As they get talking, the teens and the policemen move beyond suspicion to find points of connection. The boys discover, Mr. Paris says, that 鈥渁 lot of officers came from difficult backgrounds that are similar to theirs.鈥� The teenagers are astonished to learn that cops grew up with abusive fathers or alcoholic mothers, did drugs, or almost flunked out of school. 鈥淭he kids are saying: 鈥榃e thought you were the goody-good guys鈥攖hat you were perfect,鈥� 鈥� Mr. Paris says.
They also bond over another commonality. 鈥淚f you鈥檙e drawn to being a police officer, you鈥檙e drawn to dealing with danger,鈥� Mr. Paris says. 鈥淵ou like risk鈥攁nd we know how teenagers feel about that. It鈥檚 endemic to being a teenager in virtually every culture that you鈥檙e attracted to risk.鈥� Urban teens see the police as a kind of legitimate 鈥済ang鈥濃攚ith their own distinctive uniforms, colors, and weapons. 鈥淭his is a very attractive and interesting thing to kids, even kids who come into the room thinking 鈥業 hate cops.鈥� 鈥�
On the last day the boys and police develop a plan for future collaboration. 鈥淚n Boston,鈥� Mr. Paris says, 鈥�60 kids and 40 cops went to a Red Sox game and had a special tour.鈥� Some cops give kids their cellphone numbers and encourage them to call. A YPI survey of 1,400 police officers who have completed the program found that 90% formed friendly relationships with at least five teenagers where they patrol.
These bonds between cops and kids are 鈥渟ustained on the street,鈥� Mr. Paris says. He can cite dozens of cases in which potentially dangerous situations have been defused because the officer on the scene recognizes youngsters from YPI and enlists their help. The cop takes the kids aside and asks what鈥檚 going on, and 鈥渢hey can talk and sort it out very quickly.鈥�
Officers often become mentors to boys they meet at YPI training. 鈥淧olice are very tuned into the resources of the community,鈥� Mr. Paris says. They help the kids find jobs, direct them to social services agencies, and, perhaps most important, counsel them on personal problems. Many of the boys are growing up without fathers, and the policemen become powerful influences.
Mr. Paris says that when three groups of boys and officers in a single neighborhood鈥�45 teenagers and 30 cops鈥攈ave completed the program, it produces 鈥渁 tipping point.鈥� The neighborhood begins to change; violence drops: 鈥淜ids are getting jobs. Kids are getting rides. Kids are calling police officers. Kids are actually walking up to police officers in the street and chatting. Word gets out very quickly.鈥�
YPI has received rave reviews from law-enforcement leaders, among them the Police Foundation鈥檚 Frank Straub. He brought in the training while running the police department of suburban White Plains, N.Y., and did so again when he went on to lead the police forces in Indianapolis and Spokane, Wash. 鈥淚 believe in the power of the program,鈥� Mr. Straub says. This kind of 鈥渋ntense work in the trenches鈥� brings results. In White Plains in the late 2000s, Mr. Straub says, YPI helped reduce rates of serious crime to the lowest levels in 42 years.
In Boston鈥檚 high-crime Franklin Field housing development, 110 teens and 80 police officers completed YPI training between 2007 and 2010. Violent crime dropped 43.5% during that period, according to a survey by the city鈥檚 police department and housing authority. In nearby Chelsea, Mass., Mr. Paris has begun a Spanish-language program to improve ties between immigrant parents and police. He hopes to extend YPI鈥檚 reach through a train-the-trainer program, in which local police officers are taught how to conduct YPI sessions in their own cities.
There are also opportunities in counterterrorism work. Mr. Paris has applied the YPI model to a training program with Muslim teenagers in Boston. If you can build trusting relationships between police and Muslim communities, he says, 鈥渋t鈥檚 a good way to flush out terrorists.鈥�
The 68-year-old Mr. Paris had a long career as a photojournalist before moving into social services 17 years ago, when a friend asked him for advice on reforming a struggling school in Boston. An early influence dates to the summer of 1968, when as a rising sophomore at Princeton he received a grant to work at a school in the troubled Watts neighborhood of Los Angeles. During the 1965 riots there, clashes between African-American residents and mostly white police officers left 34 people dead. The summer three years later was the first time Mr. Paris remembers experiencing racial bias or living in a community where residents and police didn鈥檛 trust each other.
An FBI study released last month reinforces the importance of trust on both sides of the blue line. It found that law-enforcement officers in many places see 鈥渄efiance and hostility鈥� as 鈥渢he new norm.鈥� Some have become 鈥渟cared and demoralized鈥� and now 鈥渁void interacting with the community.鈥� The study also found that of 50 incidents in which cops were killed in the line of duty last year, 28% of the assailants had 鈥渆xpressed a desire to kill law enforcement officers prior to carrying out their attacks.鈥�
Mr. Paris is undeterred. 鈥淎s tough as things can get between police and communities of color,鈥� he says, 鈥淚 really think there鈥檚 a big opportunity to bridge that gap. . . . But you鈥檝e got to bring it down to the humanity of both groups. If you have a way to do that so that communication builds, people can develop some empathy and mutual understanding. It can rip along at speed. That鈥檚 what motivates me to keep doing this.鈥�