‘Sticky people’ make Broken Windows work

One would think that, with calls for Fernando Poe Jr. to calm down agitators in his camp, he would take charge at last. On the contrary, more of his supporters stood up to justify rioting if the Supreme Court finds him to not be of Filipino natural birth and thus unqualified to run for president. Newest spokesman Francis Escudero, two leaders of the FPJ Movement and several movie stars intoned that Poe will never call for violence. But they quickly added, as if on script, that he will not be able to stop contrary plans of other fans.

They in effect were saying he has no ability to control his men. Sadly they nicked the image of the man they tout to unite the fractured nation.

Meanwhile, his movie pals are whipping themselves up to a frenzy. This, as the Tribunal prepares to tackle Poe’s citizenship this week. A self-professed opposition paper, quoting insiders, headlined that justices had already ruled 8-5 against him. With this, the movie stars screamed that Malacañang had so ordered Poe’s disqualification. Two of them snorted on television, "Do they think they’re the only ones who know how to yank out a president?" The implication was that they’re out all the while to avenge the fall of another movie icon, Joseph Estrada. Too, that all those who are not for Poe must have been at EDSA-2 in 2001. All the more suspicion now sticks that Poe is just an Estrada surrogate.

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Readers sent tons of e-mail all saying the Broken Windows theory "makes so much sense" (Gotcha, 11 Feb. 2004). Ike Santos, for one, said he saw the change of New York’s Manhattan district from sleazy red lights to a clean new look after authorities cracked down on petty crime. Ben Simpao from California chorused with Wilson Mendoza and Boots Candelaria from Manila that cities like Marikina, Puerto Princesa and Davao are most liveable because the officials practise Broken Windows.

The theory, developed by American criminologists James Q. Wilson and George Kelling, holds that "crime is the inevitable result of disorder." If a broken window is left unrepaired, people walking by will conclude that no one cares and no one is in charge. Soon more windows will be broken, and a sense of anarchy will spread from the building to the street which it faces, sending the message that anything goes. Petty infractions ensue, like graffiti, littering, street hawking, panhandling or urinating in public. These in turn invite more serious crimes. Muggers strike in areas where potential victims already are intimidated by the squalid condition. They believe that if a neighborhood cannot keep an aggressive panhandler from pestering passersby, it is less likely to call the police in case of robbery.

Broken Windows was first tested in the mid-’80s with the New York subway, where trains sprayed with grafitti were immediately pulled out of service for repainting. The transit police then took on the petty fare-beaters who jumped over the turnstiles to avoid the measly $1.25 fare. They found out that most of the arrested fare-breaters were carrying deadly weapons for potential robbery or were wanted for serious offenses. In the early-’90s Mayor Rudolph Giuliani employed Broken Windows on "squeegee men" who would wash car windows at intersections and demand stiff payment from motorists. Big crime gangs and drug pushers soon began avoiding streets where the police breathed down heavily on petty offenders.

Almost all the readers’ reactions ended with the question: why can’t Broken Windows catch on in the whole Philippines?

I had said this election campaign is a bad time to do it. Candidates who wish to be our leaders will set the bad example of defacing walls and nailing trees with their posters. People will follow them, littering the streets as well. But then, Broken Windows did start, at least in Metro Manila. In the national capital, the Comelec not only warned pols against messing up the place, but also arrested dozens of offenders and tore down misplaced posters. Where the election officers didn’t care, such as along MacArthur Highway in Tarlac or Kennon Road in Baguio, the misplaced posters sent home the message that no one is in charge – so more serious breaches of election laws can proceed.

A certain type of person, described as "sticky" because he commands respect, credibility and following, can make Broken Windows work. And he need not be a person of authority – just a conscientious citizen who know that things must be set aright.

The story goes that Paul Revere, an obscure blacksmith in Boston, was able to stop the British advance during the American Revolution with his famous "midnight ride." He jumped on a horse from 10 p.m. to 2 a.m. one night in April 1775 to warn the colonials that the Redcoats were coming to arrest revolution leaders John Hancock and Samuel Adams, and seize the local militia’s store of guns and ammunition. He knocked on doors of big houses in the towns he passed, urging the menfolk to resist the marching British troops. The men, roused from sleep, in turn rang church bells to organize the resistance.

In fact, two men rode out that night: Revere and fellow-revolutionary William Dawes, a tanner. Revere worked his way to Lexington via villages east of Boston; Dawes went west. They had the same sensational message to deliver. Yet only the towns passed by Revere fought back the enemy, thus earning him his place in American history. Those passed by Dawes put up feeble resistance; one town was even mistakenly labelled at that time as pro-British. Why?

The explanation, according to Malcolm Gladwell in his best-selling book Tipping Point, which also discusses Broken Windows, is that "sticky people" like Revere have the gift or ability to make other sticky people act. Sticky people, working together, can start a social epidemic in the same way that one broken window can spark a crime wave.

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Catch Linawin Natin, Mondays at 11 p.m., on IBC-13.

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