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 The Officer’s “Rolling
Office” 82
A Sanctuary 82
Patrolling on Two Wheels
Discretionary Use of Police
Authority 86
Myth of Full Enforcement 86
Attempts to Define
Discretion 86
Determinants of Officer
Discretion 87
Pros, Cons, and Politics
of Discretionary Authority 88
A Related Function: Traffic 89
Enforcement of Traffic Laws:
Triumph and Trouble 89
Traffic Crash Investigation 90
Pursuit of the “Phantom”
Driver 91
The Patrol Lifeline: Dispatchers
and Communications 91
Summary 92
Key Terms 92
Review Questions 93
Learn by Doing 93
Notes 93
P a r t 2 Practices
and Challenges 97
Chapter 4 Community Policing:
“Guardians,”
or “Soldiers”? 98
Learning Objectives 98
Introduction 99
Lessons from History
and Ferguson 99
A Brief Reflection 99
Police Responses to
Violence: Modifications in
Tactics, Training, and
Equipment 101
How to Achieve Harmony,
Justice, and Policy? 101
Transparency and Trust
83 Building: Opportunities
and Challenges 103
A Change in Mindset 103
Calls for Police Body
Cameras 104
Basic Principles of Community
Policing 104
A Redefined Role 104
A Necessary Extension:
Problem-Oriented Policing 104
The Problem-Solving Process:
SARA 106
Scanning: Problem
Identification 106
Analysis: Heart of Problem
Solving 106
Response: Formulation
of Tailor-Made Strategies 108
Assessment: Evaluation
of Overall Effectiveness 109
A Broader Role for the Street
Officer 109
CompStat: Utilizing Information
Technology to Manage
Crime 109
Crime Prevention 110
Crime Prevention Through
Environmental Design 111
Repeat Victimization 112
Community Policing
and Problem Solving
at Work 113
An Emerging Paradigm:
Smart Policing 115
Origins 115
How It Works: An Array
of Strategies and Tactics 116
Summary 117
Key Terms 118
Review Questions 118
Learn by Doing 118
Notes 119
contents vii
▼
Chapter 5 Criminal Investigation: Criminal Profiling
The Science and Psycholinguistics 139
of Sleuthing 121 Developing Areas in Forensic
Science and Investigation 140
Learning Objectives 121
Using Social Networking
Introduction 122 Sites 140
Scope of Forensic Science No Stone Unturned:
and Criminalistics 122 Cold Cases 141
Definitions of Terms 122 Use of “Nonhuman Detectives”:
A Word About Crime Dogs 141
Scenes 124
Is There a “CSI Effect”? 142
Origins of Criminalistics 125
Investigative Tools:
Personal Identification:
Informants, Interviews,
Anthropometry
and Dactylography 125
and Interrogations 142
Locard’s Exchange Use of Confidential
Principle 128 Informants 142
Firearms Identification 128 Conducting Interviews
and Interrogations 143
Contributions of August Vollmer
and Others 128 Summary 144
Forensic Science and the Key Terms 144
Criminal Justice System 129 Review Questions 145
Investigative Stages Learn by Doing 145
and Activities 129
Notes 145
Arrest and Case
Preparation 130
Chapter 6 Personnel Issues
Detectives: Qualities, Myths, and Practices: Stress,
and Attributes 130
Labor Relations, Higher
Officers Who “Disappear”: Education, and Private
Working Undercover 132 Police 149
Problems with the Role 132
Return to Patrol Duties 133
Learning Objectives 149
Contributions of Medical Introduction 150
Examiners and Coroners 133 The Silent Epidemic:
Uses of the Polygraph 134 Stress 150
DNA Analysis 134 Nature and Types
of Stress 150
Discovery and Types
of Analyses 134 Sources of Stress 151
CODIS 137 Effects of Stress 153
DNA Policy Nightmare: Employee Assistance
Solving Property Crimes 137 Programs 153
Postconviction DNA Tests: Labor Relations: Officers’
The Supreme Court Speaks 138 Rights, Unionization,
A Wider Net: New Law Expands and Collective Bargaining 154
DNA Gathering 138 The Continuing Discussion:
Familial DNA 138 Higher Education 159
contents viii
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 Lagging Behind 159
An Enduring Controversy 160
Rationales For and Against
Higher Education
for Police 160
On Guard: The Private
Police 162
Nature and Types 162
Attempts to Legislate
Regulation 164
An Organization at the
Forefront 165
A Sidebar Note: Arrival of the
Millennials 165
Summary 166
Key Terms 166
Review Questions 167
Learn by Doing 167
Notes 167
P a r t 3 Adhering to Law, Ethical
Principles, and Public
Expectations 171
Chapter 7 Rule of Law: Expounding
the Constitution 172
Learning Objectives 172
Introduction 173
Fourth Amendment 174
Probable Cause 175
Exclusionary Rule 175
Arrests 177
Searches and Seizures 180
Electronic Surveillance 191
Lineups 191
Fifth Amendment 191
Decisions Supporting Miranda:
Confessions 192
Decisions Modifying Miranda:
Interrogations 193
Entrapment 194
Sixth Amendment 195
contents ix
▼
Right to Counsel 195
What Constitutes
an Interrogation? 195
Juvenile Rights 196
Summary 198
Key Terms 199
Review Questions 199
Learn by Doing 199
Notes 200
Chapter 8 Accountability: Use
of Force, Ethics,
Corruption,
and Discipline 202
Learning Objectives 202
Introduction 203
First Things First:
The Constitution as “Boss”
and Police Legitimacy 204
Police Use of Force,
Generally 205
Legitimate Purposes 205
Legal Restrictions 206
Which Type and How Much?
Use-of-Force Continuums 206
Another “Lesson Learned”:
Responding to Mass
Demonstrations 208
Police Brutality 209
Vehicle Pursuits 210
Police Shootings: Conundrum
and Controversy 210
America’s Angst 211
Wanted: A National
Database 211
Posting Information about Police
Shootings 212
The Early Intervention System:
Identifying Problem
Employees 212
Police Ethics 213
A Scenario 214
Definitions and Types
of Problems 214
 Police Corruption 216
History: A Long-Standing
“Plague” 216
Types and Causes 217
Code of Silence 218
Investigation
and Prosecution 219
Limitations on Officers’
Constitutional Rights 219
Alcohol and Drug Abuse
Brady Material 223
Social Networking: Issues
and Policy Guidance 224
Disciplinary Policies
and Practices 226
Maintenance of Public
Trust 226
Due Process
Requirements 226
Complaints 227
Level of Discipline and Type
of Sanction 229
Civilian Review Boards:
A Blessing or a Curse? 231
Extent and Rationale 231
Police Distrust 231
In Sum . . . 232
Summary 232
Key Terms 233
Review Questions 233
Learn by Doing 233
Notes 234
Chapter 9 Civil Liability: Failing
the Public Trust 238
Learning Objectives 238
Introduction 239
Incidence, Expense, Benefits,
and Nature of Lawsuits 239
Basic Terms and Concepts 240
Section 1983 Litigation 243
History and Escalation 243
Police Actions Leading to
Section 1983 Liability 244
Criminal Prosecutions for Police
Misconduct 247
Liability of Police
Supervisors 247
Other Areas of Potential
Liability 248
Less-Lethal Tools
223 and Technologies 248
Duty of Care 249
Failure to Protect 251
Vehicle Pursuits 251
Computer Evidence 252
Qualified Immunity
for Police 254
Summary 255
Key Terms 255
Review Questions 255
Learn by Doing 256
Notes 256
P a r t 4 Agency
Organization and
Administration 259
Chapter 10 Federal and State
Agencies: Protecting
Our Borders
and Freedoms 260
Learning Objectives 260
Introduction 261
Federal Law Enforcement
Agencies with Arrest
and Firearms Authority 261
Department of Homeland
Security 262
Department of Justice 267
Federal Bureau of Investigation
(FBI) 269
Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco,
Firearms, and Explosives
(ATF) 273
contents x
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 Drug Enforcement Unity of Command and Span
Administration (DEA) 274 of Control 292
U.S. Marshals Service Organizational Policies
(USMS) 274 and Procedures 294
Other Federal Agencies 276 Communication Within Police
Central Intelligence Agency Organizations 294
(CIA) 276 Barriers to Effective
Internal Revenue Service Communication 296
(IRS) 276 Local Agencies 296
Federal Law Enforcement Police Departments and Sheriff’s
Training Center (FLETC) 277 Offices: A Comparison 296
State Agencies 278 Executive Officers: Police Chief
State Police and Law and County Sheriff 297
Enforcement Agencies: Mintzberg Model of Chief
General Types 278 Executive Officers 301
Other Special-Purpose State Interpersonal Role 301
Agencies 279 Informational Role 301
Why No Single, Consolidated Decision-Maker Role 302
Police Force? 281
Middle Managers: Captains
Career Considerations 281 and Lieutenants 303
Summary 283 First-Line Supervisors 304
Key Terms 283 Ten Tasks 305
Review Questions 283 Police and Politics 305
Learn by Doing 283 Good Politics,
Notes 284 Bad Politics 305
Police Executive Relations
and Expectations 307
Chapter 11 Municipal and County Policing in Small and Rural
Agencies: Organization, Jurisdictions 307
Administration, Fewer People, Greater
and Roles 286 Needs 307
Learning Objectives 286 Unique Duties 308
Introduction 287 Criminal Activity 308
Organizations, Generally 287 Ways to Stretch
What Are Organizations? 287 Resources 309
Organizations as Consolidated Policing 310
Bureaucracies: In Principle Civilianization 310
and Perception 288 Agency Accreditation 311
Organizational
Summary 312
Communication 289
Police Agencies Key Terms 312
as Organizations 290 Review Questions 312
Chain of Command 290 Learn by Doing 313
Organizational Structure 291 Notes 313

contents xi
▼
P a r t 5 Best Practices: Toward an Effective Response
Strategy 335
Addressing Special Addressing Youth Gangs:
Populations, Using “Pulling Levers” 337
Specialized Juvenile Offending Today 337

Equipment 317 Gang Overview 337

What Works? 338
Chapter 12 Policing Criminal Summary 340
Organizations: The Key Terms 340
Changing War on Drugs, Review Questions 341
Terrorism, Cybercriminals, Learn by Doing 341
and Gangs 318 Notes 342
Learning Objectives 318
Introduction 319 Chapter 13 Policing Special
The Changing War Populations and
on Drugs 319 Problems: Mental Illness,
Marijuana: Conflicting Federal Domestic Violence,
and State Laws 319 Immigrants, and Human
Other Controlled Drugs 320 Trafficking 346
What Works: “Pulling
Levers” 324 Learning Objectives 346
High Intensity Drug Trafficking Introduction 347
Areas Program 325 Coping with the Mentally Ill
The Many Faces Population 347
of Terrorism 325 When the Problem Becomes
Definitions and Types 325 Lethal 347
An International Problem 326 Front-End, Back-End
Issues 349
New Worries: Homegrown
Violent Extremists and the Lone What Can Police Do?
Wolf Terrorist 327 The Success of CIT 349
Bioterrorism 327 Domestic Violence 351
Police Approaches Dangers and Approaches 351
and Methods 328 Immigration to the Land
Also in Law Enforcement’s of Opportunity 354
Toolkit: Legislation, Planning, The Changing Numbers, Faces
and Social Media 330 of Undocumented Immigrants
Cybercriminals 331 in the United States 354
Not Only in Film: The Role of Local
Extent of Victimization 331 Police 356
Types, Tactics, Human Trafficking 358
and Training 333 “Modern Day Slavery”
Identify Theft 335 for Victims 358
Nature and Victim/Police What Works? Collaboration
Responses 335 is Key 359

contents xii
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 The T Visa 359 Civic Apps
The Office of Victims for Crime-Fighting 373
of Crime 360 IT for Traffic-Related
Additional Efforts: Tasks 374
The Diagnostic Center 360 GPS and 3D Tech for Crash
Gang Involvement 361 Investigations 374
Summary 361 IT with High-Speed
Key Terms 361 Pursuits 375

Review Questions 361 What Must Be Done for New IT

to Improve Policing? 376
Learn by Doing 362
Other Caveats: Legal, Moral,
Notes 362
Practical Considerations 377
Selected Technologies
Chapter 14 Information Technologies: and Policies to Watch for 379
Contributions and
Addressing Texting While
Caveats 364 Driving 379
Learning Objectives 364 Electronic Control Devices:
Introduction 365 Safe—or Not? 380
Which IT Tools to Use? Rules and Restriction
on Drones 381
Consider the Type of Task
Involved 365 You Decide: Police Use
of Drones 382
IT for Problem-Oriented
Facial Recognition:
Policing: A Conceptual
Progress and Protest 382
Framework 366
Fingerprinting: Expanding
Rationale for IT 366
Tech and Databases 384
A Primer: IT Systems
Uses of Robots 385
for Acquiring Crime
Information 367 3D Apps for Crime-Fighting—
As Well As Following/Recording
The Cry Heard ‘Round The Police 386
Country: “Wear Body
Cameras!”’ 368 Summary 387
Crime Mapping 370 Key Terms 387
Real-Time Crime Centers 371 Review Questions 387
Applying Social Media 372 Learn by Doing 388
Lessons from Boston’s Marathon Notes 388
Bombing 372 Index 392
A Concern: When Police
Use Facebook 373

contents xiii
▼
 Preface

▶ Purposes and Approaches

Famed educator John Dewey advocated the “learning by doing” approach to education
or problem-based learning. The ninth edition is written, from start to finish, with that
philosophy in mind and is ref lected in the book’s subtitle, Challenges and Best
Practices. And, as with its eight predecessors, this book benefits from the authors’
many years of combined practical and academic experience. Its chapters contain a
real-world, applied f lavor not found in most policing textbooks and ref lect the
changing times in which we live and the tremendous challenges facing federal, state,
and local agents and officers every day. And like its eight preceding editions, this
edition continues to represent our best attempts to allow the reader, to the fullest
extent possible, to vicariously experience carrying a law enforcement badge or
wearing a police uniform by providing a highly practical, comprehensive world view
of the challenging occupation. As shown above in the below “New Topics” section,
included are several beneficial additions in topics as well as changes in its organization
and content.

▶ Special Features and Attributes

The first aspect of the book that will be noted are its several pedagogical attributes. First,
to help make this textbook more reader-friendly, each chapter begins with learning
objectives and an introduction. A summary, list of key terms, review questions, “Learn by
Doing,” and endnotes are found at the end of each chapter. Other instructional aids found
in the chapters include the Career Profiles, Court Close-ups, tables and figures, and
exhibits describing police methods and news items. Finally, a detailed index at the end of
the book makes it easy to find information on specific topics.
A few additional comments are in order concerning the “Learn by Doing” and
“Career Profiles” sections of this edition, which are to further enhance its applied
nature. Coupled with John Dewey’s aforementioned “learning by doing” approach to
education, or problem-based learning, another popular learning method was espoused
by Benjamin Bloom known as “Bloom’s Taxonomy.” Bloom called for “higher-order
thinking skills”—critical and creative thinking that involves analysis, synthesis, and
evaluation. These chapter scenarios and activities place you in hypothetical situations,
shifting attention away from the textbook-centered instruction and moving the empha-
sis to student-centered projects. These activities also allow you to practice skills in
communication and self-management, act as a problem-solver, and learn about/address
current community issues. Hopefully, you will be inspired to become engaged in some
or all of these scenarios and activities.
The “Career Profiles,” appearing in several chapters contain information provided by
current police practitioners and provide the reader with their insights concerning the nature
of their duties, a “typical day,” and some career advice.

xiv
▼
▶ New Topics in This Ninth Edition
In addition to updated information throughout the book as well as new case studies and
exercises, following are other substantively new materials added to this revised ninth
edition:

Chapter 1: New material concerning the community era of policing

Chapter 2: Muir’s characteristics of a good police officer
Chapter 3: Profile of officers feloniously killed and other occupational hazards;
types of uniforms, generally, and those for female officers.
Chapter 4: Recent events involving police shootings and use of force, and their
effects on police–community relationships; officers as “guardians”
rather than “soldiers”; suggested means of achieving harmony, justice,
and policy development; changing mindset, having transparency,
building trust; calls for police body-worn cameras; problem-solving
case studies.
Chapter 5: Example of a famous cold case recently solved using modern
investigative techniques.
Chapter 6: Continuing discussions of police higher education; unique statutory
powers of private police; attempts to regulate private police; arrival,
traits, and needs of the Millennial generation in policing;
Chapter 7: U.S. Supreme Court and federal district court decisions concerning
“mistake of law,” police searching contents of cellphones (including
incidental to lawful arrest), stop and frisk vis-à-vis racial profiling; duty
to retreat laws.
Chapter 8: The Constitution as “boss”; police legitimacy; responding to mass
demonstrations; America’s angst toward police shootings, and the need for
a national database concerning same; posting shooting facts and
disciplinary outcomes on the internet; early intervention system for
identifying problem employees; civilian review boards (blessing or curse?).
Chapter 9: Soaring costs of lawsuits and wrongful death claims; use of U.S. Code
Section 242; injuries due to police pursuits.
Chapter 10: Selected federal law enforcement agencies’ priorities, expenditures,
employment, arrests; pros and cons of having a single consolidated,
national law enforcement agency (as in many foreign venues); career
considerations.
Chapter 11: New material concerning the composition of municipal police and
county sheriff’s departments
Chapter 12: The changing war on drugs; conflicting federal/state marijuana laws and
marijuana legislation in foreign venues; status of other controlled drugs;
what “works” with policing drug abuse; international terrorism and
changes in recruitment; the rise of “lone wolf ” terrorists and the Islamic
State; how a U.S. citizen becomes radicalized; federal, state, and local
strategies for addressing terrorism; methods and case studies of
cybercriminals, and federal, state, local, and INTERPOL efforts for

Preface xv
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 policing them; identity theft (same general topics as with cybercriminals);
“pulling levers” with, and problem-solving responses to gangs;
Homeboy Industries.
Chapter 13: Growing problems and issues involving, and policing methods with the
mentally ill population; problems, approaches, legal aspects of domestic
violence; contemporary immigration issues, including political
conundrums, legislation, and sanctuary cities; human, legal and societal
aspects of human trafficking, and law enforcement and gang involvement.
Chapter 14: Determining which types of IT tool to use; IT for police problem-
solving; the national demand for, problems and issues with body-worn
cameras; real-time crime centers; contemporary uses of, problems with
social media; civic apps for crime-fighting; IT for traffic crash
investigations and high-speed chases; how new IT can improve
policing; legal, moral, practical issues surrounding uses of new
technologies; arguments for and against license plate readers; selected
technologies and policies that are on the horizon for: texting while
driving, electronic control devices, unmanned aerial vehicles (drones),
facial recognition, homeland security efforts, solving cold cases, apps
for tracking police, the Internet of Things.

▶ Chapter Organization and Contents

The book’s fourteen chapters are divided into five parts; following is a description of the
organization and contents of those parts and chapters that compose this ninth edition, as
well as its supplemental attributes.
In Part 1, the foci are on the foundations—that is, evolution and development—of
policing. Chapter 1 traces policing in history, from its English origins through its migra-
tion to the United States; included are discussions of its striving for acceptance both here
and abroad as well as its struggles (e.g., political influence, reform, and the civil rights
movement in the United States) and transformations during this historical period. Chapter 2
charts the “making” of a police officer and begins by examining how common citizens are
prepared for doing the work of policing: recruitment (to include the testing process used to
discern whether one possesses the physical and psychological attributes that are sought),
training (both during and after the recruit academy), and the different styles and roles of
policing. Next, having hired and formed citizens into police officers, Chapter 3 takes the
officers to the street, looking at the very fundamental (and at times hazardous) function of
patrolling and its purposes and nature; the variations in patrol work by shift, beat, and
assignment; officers’ use of discretion; and the traditional traffic function.
Part 2 considers contemporary policing practices and challenges and begins with a
discussion of community policing, community-oriented policing, and problem solving
(Chapter 4), and includes this strategy’s principles, strategies, and various applications, as
well as Smart Policing, intelligence-led policing, and predictive policing. Next, Chapter 5
focuses on criminal investigation, including some discussion of how this field evolved, the
roles of detectives, working undercover, DNA and other forms of analysis and technolo-
gies, uses of behavioral science, and recent developments in the field. This part’s conclud-
ing chapter, Chapter 6, examines selected personnel issues: stress, labor relations, higher
education, and the private police.
Next, in the three chapters composing Part 3, we combine several means by which
police authority is constrained. More specifically, Chapter 7 looks at the rule of law: court
decisions and constitutional enactments that direct and constrain police actions; the focus

Preface xvi
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here is on the Bill of Rights in the Constitution, particularly the Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth
Amendments. Chapter 8 considers police accountability from several perspectives, includ-
ing the issue of police ethics, use of force, corruption, and discipline (particularly in light
of recent deterioration in police–minority relations and unlawful use of deadly force).
Potential civil liability of the police is the focus of Chapter 9, to include various areas in
which officers may be liable, and the means by which citizens may seek legal redress
when they believe their civil rights have been violated.
Part 4 has as its underlying theme the fact that federal and state law enforcement as
well as local (municipal and county) policing in the United States doesn’t “just happen”
or occur in random, unplanned fashion. Such organizations are in fact organized and
administered by virtue of their sovereignty, jurisdiction, and type of assignment so as to
be more effective and efficient. Chapter 10 examines the organization and administra-
tion of U.S. federal and state law enforcement agencies, and Chapter 11 continues this
type of discussion, examining the organization and administration of local (i.e., munici-
pal police and county sheriff) agencies; included are profiles of both and comparisons
with each other. Also discussed are definitions of organizations; organizational commu-
nication; functions of police executive officers, middle managers, and supervisors;
influence of politics; media relations; contract and consolidated policing; and agency
accreditation.
Part 5, like the three previous ones, is intended to have a grouping effect in terms of
common attributes, with the emphasis here being on the problems caused by special
populations of criminals, the challenges they pose for the police, and some of the methods
and tools being used to deal with those problems. Chapter 12 examines several criminal
organizations that plague our society, including drug traffickers, terrorists, cybercriminals,
and gang members. Methods, relevant legislation, and other tools for coping with these
crime collectives is included. Chapter 13 largely moves away from this “collective”
grouping of offenders as discussed in Chapter 12 and looks instead at selected individual
offenders as well as other “people problems.” Included in this chapter are the problems
posed by the mentally ill population, domestic violence, crimes involving illegal
immigrants, and human trafficking; emphases here, as in the previous chapter, are on the
best practices, relevant legislation, and other tools that are available to the police for
coping with these crimes. Finally, Chapter 14 examines a wide array of exciting police
technologies that exist today or are on the horizon for detecting crime, analyzing evidence,
and doing everyday work.
From its beginning through the final chapter, this book provides a penetrating view of
policing in America, demonstrating that this occupation inherently continues to be one of
the most challenging and difficult occupations our society has ever witnessed.

▶ Instructor Supplements
Instructor’s Manual with Test Bank Includes content outlines for classroom discus-
sion, teaching suggestions, and answers to selected end-of-chapter questions from the text.
This also contains a Word document version of the test bank.

TestGen This computerized test generation system gives you maximum flexibility in
creating and administering tests on paper, electronically, or online. It provides state-of-the-
art features for viewing and editing test bank questions, dragging a selected question into a
test you are creating, and printing sleek, formatted tests in a variety of layouts. Select test
items from test banks included with TestGen for quick test creation, or write your own
questions from scratch. TestGen’s random generator provides the option to display differ-
ent text or calculated number values each time questions are used.

Preface xvii
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PowerPoint Presentations Our presentations offer clear, straightforward. Photos,
illustrations, charts, and tables from the book are included in the presentations when
applicable.
To access supplementary materials online, instructors need to request an instructor
access code. Go to www.pearsonhighered.com/irc, where you can register for an instruc-
tor access code. Within 48 hours after registering, you will receive a confirming email,
including an instructor access code. Once you have received your code, go to the site and
log on for full instructions on downloading the materials you wish to use.

Alternate Versions
eBooks This text is also available in multiple eBook formats. These are an exciting new
choice for students looking to save money. As an alternative to purchasing the printed
textbook, students can purchase an electronic version of the same content. With an
eTextbook, students can search the text, make notes online, print out reading assignments
that incorporate lecture notes, and bookmark important passages for later review. For more
information, visit your favorite online eBook reseller or visit www.mypearsonstore.com.

REVEL™ is Pearson’s newest way of delivering our respected content. Fully digital and
highly engaging, REVEL replaces the textbook and gives students everything they need
for the course. Seamlessly blending text narrative, media, and assessment, REVEL enables
students to read, practice, and study in one continuous experience—for less than the cost
of a traditional textbook. Learn more at pearsonhighered.com/revel.

▶ REVEL for Policing America: Challenges and

Best Practices, 9e by Peak and Sousa
Designed for the Way Today’s Criminal Justice Students
Read, Think and Learn
REVEL offers an immersive learning experience that engages students deeply, while giv-
ing them the flexibility to learn their way. Media interactives and assessments integrated
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learning without breaking stride.

REVEL seamlessly combines the full content of Pearson’s bestselling criminal justice titles
with multimedia learning tools. You assign the topics your students cover. Author Explan-
atory Videos, application exercises, and short quizzes engage students and enhance their
understanding of core topics as they progress through the content.

Instead of simply reading about criminal justice topics, REVEL empowers students to
think critically about important concepts by completing application exercises, watching
Point/­C ounterPoint videos, and participating in shared writing (discussion board)
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Track Time-On-Task Throughout the Course

The Performance Dashboard allows you to see how much time the class or individual
students have spent reading a section or doing an assignment, as well as points earned per
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into where students may be having difficulty with the material.

Preface xviii
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NEW! Ever-Growing Accessibility
Learning Management System Integration
REVEL offers a full integration to the Blackboard Learning Management System (LMS).
Access assignments, rosters and resources, and synchronize REVEL grades with the LMS
gradebook. New direct, single sign-on provides access to all the immersive REVEL
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The REVEL App

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Preface xix
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 Acknowledgments

The authors would like to extend heartfelt gratitude to those reviewers named below who
are responsible for the improvements and overall product found within this book’s covers.
Textbook authors—not unlike artists at their easels—constantly strive to upgrade the qual-
ity of our “pallet,” so as to deliver a better product to our “gallery.” Reviewers are the
unheralded heroes in this regard, examining each chapter so as to provide the author(s)
with comprehensive, thoughtful, and cogent reviews. Their incisive and insightful work
with each chapter far exceeds what we could accomplish alone, and the final product is
immeasurably improved because of those efforts. Again, many thanks to the following:

Melchor deGuzman, The College at Brockport, SUNY

Michael Freeman, Brookhaven College/Dallas County Community College
Cherly Furdge, North Central Texas College
Pearl Jacobs, Sacred Heart University
Brandon Kooi, Aurora University
Mary Pyle, Tyler Junior College

Finally, this edition, like its eight predecessors, is the result of the professional assis-
tance and forbearance of several people at Pearson Education. Specifically, we wish to
acknowledge the yeoman’s efforts of Gary Bauer, our Portfolio Manager. And the produc-
tion team of Lynda Cramer, Editorial Assistant at Pearson and Mickey Mankus and Sudip
Sinha, Project Managers at iEnergizer Aptara, Inc.

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 About the Authors

Kenneth J. Peak is emeritus professor and former chairman of

the Department of Criminal Justice, University of Nevada,
Reno, where he was named “Teacher of the Year” by the
university’s Honor Society. Following four years as a municipal
police officer in Kansas, he subsequently held positions as a
nine-county criminal justice planner for southeast Kansas;
director of a four-state technical assistance institute for the
Law Enforcement Assistance Administration (based at
W­ashburn University in Topeka); director of university police
at Pittsburg State University (Kansas); acting director of public
safety, University of Nevada, Reno; and assistant professor of
criminal justice at Wichita State University. He has authored or
coauthored 32 textbooks (relating to introduction to criminal
justice, general policing, community policing, criminal justice administration, police
supervision and management, and women in law enforcement), two historical books (on
Kansas temperance and bootlegging), and more than 60 journal articles and invited book
chapters. He is past chairman of the Police Section of the Academy of Criminal Justice
Sciences and president of the Western and Pacific Association of Criminal Justice E­ducators.
He received two gubernatorial appointments to statewide criminal justice committees while
residing in Kansas and holds a doctorate from the University of Kansas.

William H. Sousa is the Director of the Center for Crime and

Justice Policy and an Associate Professor in the Department of
Criminal Justice at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Sousa
received his B.A. from Stonehill College (Easton, MA), his
M.S. from Northeastern University (Boston, MA), and his
Ph.D. in Criminal Justice from Rutgers University (Newark,
NJ). His past research projects include evaluations of policing
programs and technologies. The focus of his writing is on
crime and disorder reduction policies implemented by police
agencies, including the New York City Police Department and
the Los Angeles Police Department. Sousa’s current projects
involve police order-maintenance practices, police manage-
ment, and community crime prevention in Las Vegas neighbor-
hoods. His recent publications appear in Police Quarterly, The
Journal of Experimental Criminology, and Police Practice and Research.

xxi
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 Part 1

Foundations: Development
of American Policing
and Police Officers

1 History: From English Origins to the United States

2 Preparing for the Street: Recruitment, Training, and Socialization
3 On Patrol: Methods and Menaces

In Part 1, the foci are on the foundations—that is, evolution and development—of polic-
ing. Chapter 1 traces policing in history, from its English origins through its migration to
the United States; included are discussions of its striving for acceptance both here and
abroad as well as its struggles (e.g., political influence, reform, and the civil rights move-
ment in the United States) and transformations during this historical period. Chapter 2
charts the “making” of a police officer and begins by examining how common citizens are
prepared for doing the work of policing: recruitment (to include the testing process used to
discern whether one possesses the physical and psychological attributes that are sought),
training (both during and after the recruit academy), and the different styles and roles of
policing. Next, having hired and formed citizens into police officers, Chapter 3 takes the
officers to the street, looking at the very fundamental (and at times, hazardous) function of
patrolling and its purposes and nature; the variations in patrol work by shift, beat, and
assignment; officers’ use of discretion; and the traditional traffic function.

1
▼
 ▲ Landing immigrants at Castle Garden, New York City. Engraving from Harper’s
Monthly Magazine, June 1884. (Courtesy Stocksnapper/Shutterstock.)

1 History
From English Origins to the United States
Learning Objectives
As a result of reading this chapter, the student will be able to:
❶ Explain the four major police-related offices and their functions during the
early English and colonial periods
❷ Explain the old English and colonial systems of policing and their legacies
❸ Describe changes in policing in the nineteenth century in England and the
United States
❹ Describe the political era of policing and list its major characteristics

2
▼
❺ Describe the reform era of policing and list its major characteristics
❻ Describe the community era of policing and list its major
characteristics

Introduction
To understand contemporary policing in America, it is necessary to understand its antecedents; we will
gain a better understanding of this history by looking at its three eras. The police, it has been said, are
“to a great extent, the prisoners of the past. Day-to-day practices are influenced by deeply ingrained
­traditions.”1 Another reason for analyzing historical developments and trends is that several discrete
­legacies have been transmitted to modern police agencies. In view of the significant historical impact
on modern policing, it is necessary to turn back the clock to about a.d. 900.
Therefore, we begin with a brief history of the evolution of four primary criminal justice officers—sheriff,
constable, coroner, and justice of the peace—from early England to the twentieth century in America.
We then examine policing from its early beginnings in England to the American colonial period, when
volunteers watched over their “human flock.” The concepts of patrol, crime prevention, authority, profes-
sionalism, and discretion can be traced to the colonial period. We move on to the adoption of full-time
policing in American cities (beginning with the Southern slave patrols and then what is termed the
political era, with its predominant issues, political influences, and other problems) and on the Western
frontier. Then we consider the reform (or professional) era, the movement to professionalize the police by
removing them from politics (and, at the same time, the citizenry) and casting them as crime fighters;
included here is a look at the tumultuous 1960s and 1970s, which often saw the police pitted against
minority groups who were seeking equal rights. Next, we discuss the movement away from the profes-
sional model into the community era, centering on the influence of the President’s Crime Commission;
this portion of the chapter also briefly considers community-oriented policing and problem solving
(­discussed thoroughly in Chapter 4), including its three eras. Included at the chapter’s end are a sum-
mary, key terms, review questions, and several scenarios and activities that provide opportunities for
you to learn by doing.

▶ English and Colonial Officers of the Law

All four of the primary criminal justice officials of early England—the sheriff, constable,
coroner, and justice of the peace—either still exist or existed until recently in the United
States. Accordingly, it is important to have a basic understanding of these offices. The fol-
lowing section therefore discusses each of these positions, first as they functioned in
England and then as they appeared in the American colonies.

Sheriff
The word sheriff is derived from the term shire reeve—shire meaning “county” and reeve
meaning “agent of the king.” The shire reeve appeared in England before the Norman con-
quest of 1066. His job was to maintain law and order in the tithings. (Tithings will be dis-
cussed further in the next section.) The office survived in England, although the sheriff was
never a popular officer in England, and since the nineteenth century the sheriff has had no
police powers. When the office began, the sheriff assisted the king in fiscal, military, and
judicial affairs and was referred to as the “king’s steward.” As men could buy their appoint-
ment from the Crown, the office was often held by nonresidents of the county who seemed

chapter 1 History 3
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 ▲ Constables (also known as leatherheads because of their
leather helmets) existed in every parish and township in
England in the early 1800s, patrolling from scattered sentry
boxes; they later existed in the early American colonies.
(Courtesy International Association of Chiefs of Police.)

intent only upon fattening their purses and abusing the public. In addition, English sheriffs
were often charged with being lazy in the pursuit of criminals. Indeed, by the late thir-
teenth century, sheriffs were forbidden to act as justices. The position of coroner was cre-
ated to act as a monitor over the sheriff. Thereafter, the status and responsibility of the
position began to diminish. In response, just before his death, King Edward I granted to the
counties the right to select their sheriffs. With the subsequent appearance of the justice of
the peace, the sheriff’s office declined in power even further. At the present time in
England, a sheriff’s only duties are to act as officer of the court, summon juries, and enforce
civil judgments.2
The first sheriffs in America appeared in the early colonial period, where control over
sheriffs has rested with the county electorate since 1886. Today, the American sheriff
remains the basic source of rural crime control. When the office appeared in the American
colonies, it was little changed from the English model. However, the power of appoint-
ment was originally vested in the governor, and the sheriff’s duties included apprehending
criminals, caring for prisoners, executing civil process, conducting elections, and collect-
ing taxes.3

chapter 1 History 4
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 In the late nineteenth century, the sheriff became a popular figure in the legendary Wild
West (discussed later in this chapter). The frontier sheriffs often used the concept of posse
comitatus, an important part of the criminal justice machine that allowed the sheriff to
deputize common citizens to assist in the capture of outlaws, among other tasks. Overall,
by the turn of the twentieth century the powers and duties of the sheriff in America had
changed very little in status or function. In fact, the office has not changed much today.

Constable
Like the sheriff, the constable can be traced back to Anglo-Saxon times. The office began
during the reign of Edward I, when every parish or township had a constable. As the county
militia turned more and more to matters of defense, the constable alone pursued felons—
hence the ancient custom of citizens raising a loud “hue and cry” and joining in pursuit of
criminals lapsed into disuse. During the Middle Ages, there was as yet no high degree of
specialization. The constable had a variety of duties, including collecting taxes, supervis-
ing highways, and serving as magistrate. The office soon became subject to election and
was conferred upon local men of prominence. However, the creation of the office of justice
of the peace around 1200 quickly changed this trend forever; soon the constable was lim-
ited to making arrests only with warrants issued by a justice of the peace. As a result, the
office, deprived of social and civic prestige, was no longer attractive. It carried no salary,
and the duties were often dangerous. In addition, there was heavy attrition in the office, so
the constable’s term was limited to one year in an attempt to attract officeholders; in 1856
Parliament completely discarded the office.4
The office of constable experienced a similar process of disintegration in the colonies.
However, the American constables, usually two in each town, were given control over the
night watch. By the 1930s, constitutions in twenty-one states provided for the office of
constable, but constables still received no pay, and like their British colleagues they
enjoyed little prestige or popularity after the early 1900s. The position fell into disfavor
largely because most constables were untrained and were believed to be wholly inadequate
as officials of the law.5

Coroner
The office of coroner is more difficult to describe. It has been used to fulfill many different
roles throughout its history and has steadily changed over the centuries. There is no agree-
ment concerning the date when the coroner first appeared in England, but there is general
consensus that the office was functioning by the end of the twelfth century.
From the beginning, the coroner was elected; his duties included oversight of the inter-
ests of the Crown, not only in criminal matters but in fiscal matters as well. In felony cases,
the coroner could conduct a preliminary hearing, and the sheriff often came to the coro-
ner’s court to preside over the coroner’s jury. The coroner’s inquest provided another
means of power and prestige, determining the cause of death and the party responsible for
it. Initially, coroners were elected for life. Soon becoming unhappy with the absence of
compensation, however, eventually they were given the right to charge fees for their work.6
As was true of sheriffs and constables, at first the office of the coroner in America was
only slightly different than what it had been in England. The office was slow in gaining
recognition in America, as many of the coroners’ duties were already being performed by
the sheriffs and justices of the peace. By 1933, the coroner was recognized as a separate
office in two-thirds of the states. Tenure was generally limited to two years. By then, how-
ever, the office had been stripped of many of its original functions, especially its fiscal
roles. In many states, the coroner legally served as sheriff when the elected sheriff was
disabled or disqualified. However, since the early part of the twentieth century, the coroner

chapter 1 History 5
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in the 2,000 coroners’ offices in the United States has basically performed a single func-
tion: determining the causes of all deaths by violence or under suspicious circumstances.
The coroner or his or her assistant is expected to determine the causes and effects of
wounds, lesions, contusions, fractures, poisons, and more. The coroner’s inquest resem-
bles a grand jury at which the coroner serves as a kind of presiding magistrate. If the
inquest determines that the deceased came to his or her death through criminal means, the
coroner may issue a warrant for the arrest of the accused party.7
The primary debate regarding the office of coroner has centered on the qualifications
needed to hold the office. Many states have traditionally allowed laypeople, as opposed to
physicians, to be coroners. Thus, people of all backgrounds—ranging from butchers to
musicians—have occupied this powerful office.8

Justice of the Peace

The justice of the peace (JP) can be traced back as far as 1195 in England. By 1264 the
custos pacis, or conservator of the peace, nominated by the king for each county, presided
over criminal trials. Early JPs were wealthy landholders. They allowed constables to make
arrests by issuing them warrants. Over time, this practice removed power from constables
and sheriffs. By the sixteenth century, the office came under criticism because of the cali-
ber of the people holding it. Officeholders were often referred to as “boobies” and “scum
of the earth.”9 The only qualification necessary was being a wealthy landowner who was
able to buy his way into office.
By the early twentieth century, England had abolished the property-holding require-
ment, and many of the medieval functions of the JP’s office were removed. Thereafter, the
office possessed extensive but strictly criminal jurisdiction, with no jurisdiction what-
soever in civil cases. This contrasts with the American system, which gives JPs limited
jurisdiction in both criminal and civil cases.
The JP’s office in the colonies was a distinct change from the position as it existed in
England. JPs were elected to office and given jurisdiction in both civil and criminal cases.
By 1930, the office had constitutional status in all of the states. JPs have long been allowed
to collect fees for their services. As in England, it is typically not necessary to hold a law
degree or to have pursued legal studies in order to be a JP in the United States.10

▲ Justice of the Peace Roy Bean, Langtry, Texas, about 1900. (Courtesy Library of Congress.)

chapter 1 History 6
▼
 Perhaps the most colorful JP was Roy Bean, popularized in film as the sole peace offi-
cer in a 35,000-square-mile area west of the Pecos River, near Langtry, Texas. Bean was
known to hold court in his shack, where signs hung on the front porch proclaimed, “Justice
Roy Bean, Notary Public,” “Law West of the Pecos,” and “Beer Saloon.” Cold beer and
the law undoubtedly shared many quarters on the Western frontier.
JPs are today what they perhaps were intended to be—lay and inexpert upholders of
the law. On the whole, the office has declined from high prestige to relative obscurity. As
one observer noted, this loss of prestige can never be recovered.11

▶ The Old English and Colonial Systems

of Policing
Old English Traditions
Like much of the American criminal justice system, modern American policing can be
traced directly to its English heritage. Ideas concerning community policing, crime pre-
vention, the posse, constables, and sheriffs were developed from English policing.
Beginning about a.d. 900, the role of law enforcement was placed in the hands of common
citizens. Each citizen was responsible for aiding neighbors who might be victimized by
outlaws.12 No formal mechanism existed with which to police the villages, and the infor-
mal voluntary model that developed was referred to as “kin police.”13 Slowly this model
developed into a more formalized community-based system.
After the Norman conquest of 1066, a community-based system called “frankpledge”
was established. This system required that every male above the age of twelve form a
group with nine of his neighbors. This group, called a tithing, was sworn to help protect
fellow citizens and to apprehend and deliver to justice any of its members who committed
a crime. Tithingmen were not paid salaries for their work, and they were required to per-
form certain duties under penalty of law.14 Ten tithings were grouped into a hundred,
directed by a constable who was appointed by a nobleman. The constable was the first
police official with law enforcement responsibility greater than simply protecting his
neighbors. As the tithings were grouped into hundreds, the hundreds were grouped into
shires, which are similar to today’s counties.
By the late sixteenth century, however, wealthier merchants and farmers became reluc-
tant to take their turn in the rotating job of constable. The office was still unpaid, and the
duties were numerous. Wealthier men paid the less fortunate to serve in their place until
there came a point at which no one but the otherwise unemployable would serve as con-
stable. Thus, from about 1689 on, the demise of the once-powerful office was swift. All
who could afford to pay their way out of service as constable to King George I did so.15
Meanwhile, the JP was rewarded in proportion to the number of people he convicted,
so extortion was rampant. Ingenious criminals were able to exploit this state of affairs to
great advantage. One such criminal was Jonathan Wild, who, in the early 1700s obtained
single-handed control over most of London’s criminals. Wild’s system was simple:
After ordering his men to commit a burglary, he would meet the victim and courteously
offer to return the stolen goods for a commission. That he could have operated such a
business for so long is a testimony to the corrupt nature of the magistrates of the “trading
justice” period.16
This early English system, in large measure voluntary and informal, continued with
some success well into the eighteenth century. By 1800, however, the collapse of its two
primary offices and the growth of large cities, crime, and civil disobedience required that
the system be changed. The British Parliament was soon forced to consider and adopt a
more dependable system.

chapter 1 History 7
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Policing in Colonial America
The first colonists transplanted the English policing system, with all of its virtues and
faults, to seventeenth- and eighteenth-century America. Most of the time, the colonies
were free of crime as the settlers busied themselves carving out a farm and a living.
Occasionally, colonists ran afoul of the law by violating or neglecting some moral obliga-
tion. They then found themselves in court for working on the Sabbath, cursing in public,
failing to pen animals properly, or begetting children out of wedlock. Only two “crime
waves” of note occurred during the seventeenth century, both in Massachusetts. In one
case, between 1656 and 1665, Quakers who dared challenge the religion of the Puritan
colony were whipped, banished, and, in three instances, hanged. The second “crime wave”
involved witchcraft. Several alleged witches were hanged in 1692 in Salem; dozens more
languished in prison before the hysteria abated.17
Once colonists settled into villages, including Boston (1630), Charleston (1680), and
Philadelphia (1682), local ordinances provided for the appointment of constables, whose
duties were much like those of their English predecessors. County governments, again
drawing on English precedent, appointed sheriffs as well. The county sheriff, appointed by
a governor, became the most important law enforcement official, particularly when the
colonies were small and rural. The sheriff apprehended criminals, served subpoenas,
appeared in court, and collected taxes. The sheriff was also paid a fixed amount for each
task performed; the more taxes he collected, for example, the higher his pay.18
Criminal acts were so infrequent as to be largely ignored. Service as a constable or
watchman was obligatory, and for a few years citizens did not seem to mind this duty. But as
towns grew and the task of enforcing the laws became more difficult and time consuming,
the colonists, like their English counterparts, began to evade the duty when possible. The
“watch-and-ward” responsibility of citizens became more of a comical “snooze-and-snore”
system. New Amsterdam’s Dutch officials introduced a paid watch in 1658, and Boston tried
the concept in 1663, but the expense quickly forced both cities to discontinue the practice.19
Unfortunately for these eighteenth-century colonists, their refusal to provide a depend-
able voluntary policing system came at a time when economic, population, and crime
growth required a reliable police force. The citizen-participation model of policing was
breaking down, and something had to be done, especially in the larger colonies. Philadelphia
devised a plan, enacted into law, restructuring the way the watch was performed. The law
empowered officials, called wardens, to hire as many watchmen as needed; the powers of
the watch were increased; and the legislature levied a tax to pay for it. Instead of requiring
all males to participate, only male citizens interested in making money needed to join the
watch. Philadelphia’s plan was moderately successful, and other cities were soon inspired
to follow its example and offer tax-supported wages for watches.20
From the middle to the late eighteenth century, massive social and political unrest
caused police problems to increase even more. From 1754 to 1763, the French and Indian
War disrupted colonial society. In 1783, after the American Revolution had ended, prop-
erty and street crime continued to flourish, and the constabulary and the watches were
unable to cope with it. Soon it became evident that, like the English, the American people
needed a more dependable, formal system of policing.

Legacies of the Colonial Period

As uncomplicated and sedate as colonial law enforcement seems, especially when com-
pared to contemporary police problems, the colonial period is very important to the
­history of policing because many of the basic ideas that influence modern policing were
developed during that era. Specifically, the colonial period transmitted three legacies to
contemporary policing.21

chapter 1 History 8
▼
 ▲ Henry Fielding. (Courtesy Library of Congress.)

First, as just discussed, the colonists committed themselves to local (as opposed to
centralized) policing. Second, the colonists reinforced that commitment by creating a the-
ory of government called republicanism. Republicanism asserted that power can be divided,
and it relied on local interests to promote the general welfare. Police chiefs and sheriffs
might believe that they alone know how to address crime and disorder, but under republi-
canism, neighborhood groups and local interest blocs have input with respect to crime-
control policy. Republicanism thus established the controversial political framework
within which the police would develop during the next two hundred years.22
Finally, the colonial period witnessed the onset of the theory of crime prevention. This
legacy would alter the shape of policing after 1800 and would eventually lead to the emer-
gence of modern police agencies.
The population of England had doubled between 1700 and 1800. Parliament, however,
had done nothing to solve the problems that arose from social change. Each municipality
or county, therefore, was left to solve its problems in piecemeal fashion. After 1750, prac-
tically every English city increased the number of watchmen and constables, hoping to
address the problem of crime and disorder but not giving any thought to whether this
ancient system of policing still worked. However, the cities did adopt paid, rather than
voluntary, watches.23
London probably suffered the most from this general inattention to social problems;
awash in crime, whole districts had become criminal haunts that no watchmen visited
and no honest citizens frequented. Thieves became very bold, robbing their victims in
broad daylight on busy streets. In the face of this situation, English officials still contin-
ued to prefer the existing policing arrangements over any new ideas. However, three
men—Henry Fielding, his half brother John Fielding, and Patrick Colquhoun—began to
experiment with possible solutions and laid the foundation on which later reformers
would build new ideas.
Henry Fielding’s acute interest in, and knowledge of, policing led to his 1748 appoint-
ment as chief magistrate of Bow Street in London. He soon became one of England’s most
acclaimed theorists in the area of crime and punishment. Fielding’s primary argument was

chapter 1 History 9
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that the severity of the English penal code, which provided for the death penalty for a large
number of offenses, including the theft of a handkerchief, did not work in controlling crim-
inals. He believed the country should reform the criminal code to deal more with the ori-
gins of crime. In 1750, Fielding made the pursuit of criminals more systematic by creating
a small group of “thief takers.” Victims of crime paid handsome rewards for the capture of
their assailants, so these volunteers stood to profit nicely by pursuing criminals.24
When Henry Fielding died in 1754, John Fielding succeeded him as Bow Street mag-
istrate. By 1785, his thief takers had evolved into the Bow Street Runners—some of the
most famous policemen in English history. While the Fieldings were considering how to
create a police force that could deal with changing English society, horrible punishments
and incompetent policing continued throughout England.
Patrick Colquhoun was a wealthy man who was sincerely interested in improving
social conditions in England. In 1792, Colquhoun was appointed London magistrate, and
for the next quarter of a century he focused on police reform. Like the Fieldings, he wrote
lengthy treatises on the police, and he soon established himself as an authority on police
reform. Colquhoun believed that government could, and should, regulate people’s behav-
ior. This notion contradicted tradition and even constitutional ideals, undermining the old
principle that the residents of local communities, through voluntary watchmen and con-
stables, should police the conduct of their neighbors. Colquhoun also endorsed three
ideas originally set forth by the Fieldings: (1) the police should have an intelligence ser-
vice for gathering information about offenders; (2) a register of known criminals and
unlawful groups should be maintained; and (3) a police gazette should be published to
assist in the apprehension of criminals and to promote the moral education of the public
by publicizing punishments such as whipping, the pillory, and public execution. To
­justify these reforms, Colquhoun estimated that London in 1800 had 10,000 thieves, pros-
titutes, and other criminals who stole goods valued at more than a half million pounds
from the riverside docks alone.25
Colquhoun also believed that policing should maintain the public order, prevent and
detect crime, and correct bad manners and morals. He did not agree with the centuries-old
notion that watchmen—who, after all, were amateurs—could adequately police the com-
munities. Thus, Colquhoun favored a system of paid professional police officers who
would be recruited and maintained by a centralized governmental authority. Colquhoun
believed that potential criminals could be identified before they did their unlawful deeds.26
Thus began the notion of proactive policing—that is, preventing the crime before it occurs.
Colquhoun died before his proposals were adopted, and as the eighteenth century ended,
the structure of policing in England and America was largely unchanged. However, both
nations had experienced the inadequacies of the older form of policing. Although new
ideas had emerged, loyalties to the old system of policing would remain for some time.

▶ Police Reform in England

Two powerful trends in England (and later in the United States) brought about changes in
policing in the early and mid-nineteenth century. The first was urbanization, and the sec-
ond was industrialization. These developments generally increased the standard of living
for western Europeans. Suddenly, factories needed sober, dependable people who could be
trusted with machines. To create a reliable workforce, factory owners began advocating
temperance. Clearly, a new age, a new way of thinking, had begun. Crime also increased
during this period. Thus, social change, crime, and unrest made the old system of policing
obsolete. A new policing system was needed, one that could deal effectively with crimi-
nals, maintain order, and prevent crime.27
England began witnessing food riots (due to food scarcity and high prices) and
increases in crime. The British army, traditionally used to disperse rioters, was becoming

chapter 1 History 10
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 ▲ Sir Robert Peel. (Courtesy Library of Congress.)

less effective as people began resisting its commands. In 1822, England’s ruling party, the
Tories, moved to consider new alternatives. The prime minister appointed Sir Robert Peel
to establish a police force to combat the problems. Peel, a wealthy member of Parliament
who was familiar with the reforms suggested by the Fieldings and Colquhoun, found that
many English people objected to the idea of a professional police force, thinking it a pos-
sible restraint on their liberty. They also feared a stronger police organization because the
criminal law was already quite harsh, as it had been for many years. By the early nine-
teenth century, there were 223 crimes in England for which a person could be hanged.
Because of these two obstacles, Peel’s efforts to gain support for full-time, paid police
officers failed for seven years.28
Peel finally succeeded in 1829. He had established a base of support in Parliament and
had focused on reforming only the metropolitan police of London rather than trying to cre-
ate policing for the entire country. Peel submitted a bill to Parliament. This bill, which was
very vague about details, was called “An Act for Improving the Police in and Near the
Metropolis.” Parliament passed the Metropolitan Police Act of 1829. The General
Instructions of the new force stressed its preventive nature, specifying that “the principal
object to be attained is ‘the prevention of crime.’ The security of person and property
will thus be better effected, than by the detection and punishment of the offender after he
has succeeded in committing the crime.”29 The act called on the home secretary to appoint
two police commissioners to command the new organization. These two men were to recruit
“a sufficient number of fit and able men” as constables.30 Peel chose a former military colo-
nel, Charles Rowan, as one commissioner, and a barrister (attorney), Richard Mayne, as
the other. They divided London into seventeen divisions, using crime data as the primary

chapter 1 History 11
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basis for creating the boundaries. Each division had a commander called a superintendent;
each superintendent had a force of 4 inspectors, 16 sergeants, and 165 constables. Thus,
London’s Metropolitan Police immediately consisted of nearly 3,000 officers. The commis-
sioners decided to put their constables in a uniform (a blue coat, blue pants, and a black top
hat) and to arm them with a short baton (known as a “truncheon”) and a rattle for raising an
alarm. Each constable was to wear his own identifying number on his collar, where it could
be easily seen.31
Interestingly, the London police (nicknamed “bobbies” after Sir Robert Peel) quickly
met with tremendous public hostility. Wealthy people resented their very existence and
became particularly incensed at their attempts to control the movements of their horse-
drawn coaches. Several aristocrats ordered their coachmen to whip the officers or simply
drive over them. Juries and judges refused to punish those who assaulted the police.
Defendants acquitted by a hostile judge would often sue the officer for false arrest.
Policing London’s streets in the early 1830s proved to be a very dangerous and lonely
business. The two commissioners, Rowan and Mayne, fearing that public hostility might
kill off the police force, moved to counter it. The bobbies were continually told to be

▲ A “Peeler,” c. 1829. “Peeler,” “Robert,” and “Bobby”

were all early names for a police officer, the latter remaining
as a nickname today. (Courtesy IACP National Law Enforcement Policy
Center.)

chapter 1 History 12
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Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 DANCE ON STILTS AT THE GIRLS’ UNYAGO, NIUCHI

Newala, too, suffers from the distance of its water-supply—at least

the Newala of to-day does; there was once another Newala in a lovely
valley at the foot of the plateau. I visited it and found scarcely a trace
of houses, only a Christian cemetery, with the graves of several
missionaries and their converts, remaining as a monument of its
former glories. But the surroundings are wonderfully beautiful. A
thick grove of splendid mango-trees closes in the weather-worn
crosses and headstones; behind them, combining the useful and the
agreeable, is a whole plantation of lemon-trees covered with ripe
fruit; not the small African kind, but a much larger and also juicier
imported variety, which drops into the hands of the passing traveller,
without calling for any exertion on his part. Old Newala is now under
the jurisdiction of the native pastor, Daudi, at Chingulungulu, who,
as I am on very friendly terms with him, allows me, as a matter of
course, the use of this lemon-grove during my stay at Newala.
 FEET MUTILATED BY THE RAVAGES OF THE “JIGGER”
(Sarcopsylla penetrans)

The water-supply of New Newala is in the bottom of the valley,

some 1,600 feet lower down. The way is not only long and fatiguing,
but the water, when we get it, is thoroughly bad. We are suffering not
only from this, but from the fact that the arrangements at Newala are
nothing short of luxurious. We have a separate kitchen—a hut built
against the boma palisade on the right of the baraza, the interior of
which is not visible from our usual position. Our two cooks were not
long in finding this out, and they consequently do—or rather neglect
to do—what they please. In any case they do not seem to be very
particular about the boiling of our drinking-water—at least I can
attribute to no other cause certain attacks of a dysenteric nature,
from which both Knudsen and I have suffered for some time. If a
man like Omari has to be left unwatched for a moment, he is capable
of anything. Besides this complaint, we are inconvenienced by the
state of our nails, which have become as hard as glass, and crack on
the slightest provocation, and I have the additional infliction of
pimples all over me. As if all this were not enough, we have also, for
the last week been waging war against the jigger, who has found his
Eldorado in the hot sand of the Makonde plateau. Our men are seen
all day long—whenever their chronic colds and the dysentery likewise
raging among them permit—occupied in removing this scourge of
Africa from their feet and trying to prevent the disastrous
consequences of its presence. It is quite common to see natives of
this place with one or two toes missing; many have lost all their toes,
or even the whole front part of the foot, so that a well-formed leg
ends in a shapeless stump. These ravages are caused by the female of
Sarcopsylla penetrans, which bores its way under the skin and there
develops an egg-sac the size of a pea. In all books on the subject, it is
stated that one’s attention is called to the presence of this parasite by
an intolerable itching. This agrees very well with my experience, so
far as the softer parts of the sole, the spaces between and under the
toes, and the side of the foot are concerned, but if the creature
penetrates through the harder parts of the heel or ball of the foot, it
may escape even the most careful search till it has reached maturity.
Then there is no time to be lost, if the horrible ulceration, of which
we see cases by the dozen every day, is to be prevented. It is much
easier, by the way, to discover the insect on the white skin of a
European than on that of a native, on which the dark speck scarcely
shows. The four or five jiggers which, in spite of the fact that I
constantly wore high laced boots, chose my feet to settle in, were
taken out for me by the all-accomplished Knudsen, after which I
thought it advisable to wash out the cavities with corrosive
sublimate. The natives have a different sort of disinfectant—they fill
the hole with scraped roots. In a tiny Makua village on the slope of
the plateau south of Newala, we saw an old woman who had filled all
the spaces under her toe-nails with powdered roots by way of
prophylactic treatment. What will be the result, if any, who can say?
The rest of the many trifling ills which trouble our existence are
really more comic than serious. In the absence of anything else to
smoke, Knudsen and I at last opened a box of cigars procured from
the Indian store-keeper at Lindi, and tried them, with the most
distressing results. Whether they contain opium or some other
narcotic, neither of us can say, but after the tenth puff we were both
“off,” three-quarters stupefied and unspeakably wretched. Slowly we
recovered—and what happened next? Half-an-hour later we were
once more smoking these poisonous concoctions—so insatiable is the
craving for tobacco in the tropics.
Even my present attacks of fever scarcely deserve to be taken
seriously. I have had no less than three here at Newala, all of which
have run their course in an incredibly short time. In the early
afternoon, I am busy with my old natives, asking questions and
making notes. The strong midday coffee has stimulated my spirits to
an extraordinary degree, the brain is active and vigorous, and work
progresses rapidly, while a pleasant warmth pervades the whole
body. Suddenly this gives place to a violent chill, forcing me to put on
my overcoat, though it is only half-past three and the afternoon sun
is at its hottest. Now the brain no longer works with such acuteness
and logical precision; more especially does it fail me in trying to
establish the syntax of the difficult Makua language on which I have
ventured, as if I had not enough to do without it. Under the
circumstances it seems advisable to take my temperature, and I do
so, to save trouble, without leaving my seat, and while going on with
my work. On examination, I find it to be 101·48°. My tutors are
abruptly dismissed and my bed set up in the baraza; a few minutes
later I am in it and treating myself internally with hot water and
lemon-juice.
Three hours later, the thermometer marks nearly 104°, and I make
them carry me back into the tent, bed and all, as I am now perspiring
heavily, and exposure to the cold wind just beginning to blow might
mean a fatal chill. I lie still for a little while, and then find, to my
great relief, that the temperature is not rising, but rather falling. This
is about 7.30 p.m. At 8 p.m. I find, to my unbounded astonishment,
that it has fallen below 98·6°, and I feel perfectly well. I read for an
hour or two, and could very well enjoy a smoke, if I had the
wherewithal—Indian cigars being out of the question.
Having no medical training, I am at a loss to account for this state
of things. It is impossible that these transitory attacks of high fever
should be malarial; it seems more probable that they are due to a
kind of sunstroke. On consulting my note-book, I become more and
more inclined to think this is the case, for these attacks regularly
follow extreme fatigue and long exposure to strong sunshine. They at
least have the advantage of being only short interruptions to my
work, as on the following morning I am always quite fresh and fit.
My treasure of a cook is suffering from an enormous hydrocele which
makes it difficult for him to get up, and Moritz is obliged to keep in
the dark on account of his inflamed eyes. Knudsen’s cook, a raw boy
from somewhere in the bush, knows still less of cooking than Omari;
consequently Nils Knudsen himself has been promoted to the vacant
post. Finding that we had come to the end of our supplies, he began
by sending to Chingulungulu for the four sucking-pigs which we had
bought from Matola and temporarily left in his charge; and when
they came up, neatly packed in a large crate, he callously slaughtered
the biggest of them. The first joint we were thoughtless enough to
entrust for roasting to Knudsen’s mshenzi cook, and it was
consequently uneatable; but we made the rest of the animal into a
jelly which we ate with great relish after weeks of underfeeding,
consuming incredible helpings of it at both midday and evening
meals. The only drawback is a certain want of variety in the tinned
vegetables. Dr. Jäger, to whom the Geographical Commission
entrusted the provisioning of the expeditions—mine as well as his
own—because he had more time on his hands than the rest of us,
seems to have laid in a huge stock of Teltow turnips,[46] an article of
food which is all very well for occasional use, but which quickly palls
when set before one every day; and we seem to have no other tins
left. There is no help for it—we must put up with the turnips; but I
am certain that, once I am home again, I shall not touch them for ten
years to come.
Amid all these minor evils, which, after all, go to make up the
genuine flavour of Africa, there is at least one cheering touch:
Knudsen has, with the dexterity of a skilled mechanic, repaired my 9
× 12 cm. camera, at least so far that I can use it with a little care.
How, in the absence of finger-nails, he was able to accomplish such a
ticklish piece of work, having no tool but a clumsy screw-driver for
taking to pieces and putting together again the complicated
mechanism of the instantaneous shutter, is still a mystery to me; but
he did it successfully. The loss of his finger-nails shows him in a light
contrasting curiously enough with the intelligence evinced by the
above operation; though, after all, it is scarcely surprising after his
ten years’ residence in the bush. One day, at Lindi, he had occasion
to wash a dog, which must have been in need of very thorough
cleansing, for the bottle handed to our friend for the purpose had an
extremely strong smell. Having performed his task in the most
conscientious manner, he perceived with some surprise that the dog
did not appear much the better for it, and was further surprised by
finding his own nails ulcerating away in the course of the next few
days. “How was I to know that carbolic acid has to be diluted?” he
mutters indignantly, from time to time, with a troubled gaze at his
mutilated finger-tips.
 Since we came to Newala we have been making excursions in all
directions through the surrounding country, in accordance with old
habit, and also because the akida Sefu did not get together the tribal
elders from whom I wanted information so speedily as he had
promised. There is, however, no harm done, as, even if seen only
from the outside, the country and people are interesting enough.
The Makonde plateau is like a large rectangular table rounded off
at the corners. Measured from the Indian Ocean to Newala, it is
about seventy-five miles long, and between the Rovuma and the
Lukuledi it averages fifty miles in breadth, so that its superficial area
is about two-thirds of that of the kingdom of Saxony. The surface,
however, is not level, but uniformly inclined from its south-western
edge to the ocean. From the upper edge, on which Newala lies, the
eye ranges for many miles east and north-east, without encountering
any obstacle, over the Makonde bush. It is a green sea, from which
here and there thick clouds of smoke rise, to show that it, too, is
inhabited by men who carry on their tillage like so many other
primitive peoples, by cutting down and burning the bush, and
manuring with the ashes. Even in the radiant light of a tropical day
such a fire is a grand sight.
Much less effective is the impression produced just now by the
great western plain as seen from the edge of the plateau. As often as
time permits, I stroll along this edge, sometimes in one direction,
sometimes in another, in the hope of finding the air clear enough to
let me enjoy the view; but I have always been disappointed.
Wherever one looks, clouds of smoke rise from the burning bush,
and the air is full of smoke and vapour. It is a pity, for under more
favourable circumstances the panorama of the whole country up to
the distant Majeje hills must be truly magnificent. It is of little use
taking photographs now, and an outline sketch gives a very poor idea
of the scenery. In one of these excursions I went out of my way to
make a personal attempt on the Makonde bush. The present edge of
the plateau is the result of a far-reaching process of destruction
through erosion and denudation. The Makonde strata are
everywhere cut into by ravines, which, though short, are hundreds of
yards in depth. In consequence of the loose stratification of these
beds, not only are the walls of these ravines nearly vertical, but their
upper end is closed by an equally steep escarpment, so that the
western edge of the Makonde plateau is hemmed in by a series of
deep, basin-like valleys. In order to get from one side of such a ravine
to the other, I cut my way through the bush with a dozen of my men.
It was a very open part, with more grass than scrub, but even so the
short stretch of less than two hundred yards was very hard work; at
the end of it the men’s calicoes were in rags and they themselves
bleeding from hundreds of scratches, while even our strong khaki
suits had not escaped scatheless.

NATIVE PATH THROUGH THE MAKONDE BUSH, NEAR

MAHUTA

I see increasing reason to believe that the view formed some time
back as to the origin of the Makonde bush is the correct one. I have
no doubt that it is not a natural product, but the result of human
occupation. Those parts of the high country where man—as a very
slight amount of practice enables the eye to perceive at once—has not
yet penetrated with axe and hoe, are still occupied by a splendid
timber forest quite able to sustain a comparison with our mixed
forests in Germany. But wherever man has once built his hut or tilled
his field, this horrible bush springs up. Every phase of this process
may be seen in the course of a couple of hours’ walk along the main
road. From the bush to right or left, one hears the sound of the axe—
not from one spot only, but from several directions at once. A few
steps further on, we can see what is taking place. The brush has been
cut down and piled up in heaps to the height of a yard or more,
between which the trunks of the large trees stand up like the last
pillars of a magnificent ruined building. These, too, present a
melancholy spectacle: the destructive Makonde have ringed them—
cut a broad strip of bark all round to ensure their dying off—and also
piled up pyramids of brush round them. Father and son, mother and
son-in-law, are chopping away perseveringly in the background—too
busy, almost, to look round at the white stranger, who usually excites
so much interest. If you pass by the same place a week later, the piles
of brushwood have disappeared and a thick layer of ashes has taken
the place of the green forest. The large trees stretch their
smouldering trunks and branches in dumb accusation to heaven—if
they have not already fallen and been more or less reduced to ashes,
perhaps only showing as a white stripe on the dark ground.
This work of destruction is carried out by the Makonde alike on the
virgin forest and on the bush which has sprung up on sites already
cultivated and deserted. In the second case they are saved the trouble
of burning the large trees, these being entirely absent in the
secondary bush.
After burning this piece of forest ground and loosening it with the
hoe, the native sows his corn and plants his vegetables. All over the
country, he goes in for bed-culture, which requires, and, in fact,
receives, the most careful attention. Weeds are nowhere tolerated in
the south of German East Africa. The crops may fail on the plains,
where droughts are frequent, but never on the plateau with its
abundant rains and heavy dews. Its fortunate inhabitants even have
the satisfaction of seeing the proud Wayao and Wamakua working
for them as labourers, driven by hunger to serve where they were
accustomed to rule.
But the light, sandy soil is soon exhausted, and would yield no
harvest the second year if cultivated twice running. This fact has
been familiar to the native for ages; consequently he provides in
time, and, while his crop is growing, prepares the next plot with axe
and firebrand. Next year he plants this with his various crops and
lets the first piece lie fallow. For a short time it remains waste and
desolate; then nature steps in to repair the destruction wrought by
man; a thousand new growths spring out of the exhausted soil, and
even the old stumps put forth fresh shoots. Next year the new growth
is up to one’s knees, and in a few years more it is that terrible,
impenetrable bush, which maintains its position till the black
occupier of the land has made the round of all the available sites and
come back to his starting point.
The Makonde are, body and soul, so to speak, one with this bush.
According to my Yao informants, indeed, their name means nothing
else but “bush people.” Their own tradition says that they have been
settled up here for a very long time, but to my surprise they laid great
stress on an original immigration. Their old homes were in the
south-east, near Mikindani and the mouth of the Rovuma, whence
their peaceful forefathers were driven by the continual raids of the
Sakalavas from Madagascar and the warlike Shirazis[47] of the coast,
to take refuge on the almost inaccessible plateau. I have studied
African ethnology for twenty years, but the fact that changes of
population in this apparently quiet and peaceable corner of the earth
could have been occasioned by outside enterprises taking place on
the high seas, was completely new to me. It is, no doubt, however,
correct.
The charming tribal legend of the Makonde—besides informing us
of other interesting matters—explains why they have to live in the
thickest of the bush and a long way from the edge of the plateau,
instead of making their permanent homes beside the purling brooks
and springs of the low country.
“The place where the tribe originated is Mahuta, on the southern
side of the plateau towards the Rovuma, where of old time there was
nothing but thick bush. Out of this bush came a man who never
washed himself or shaved his head, and who ate and drank but little.
He went out and made a human figure from the wood of a tree
growing in the open country, which he took home to his abode in the
bush and there set it upright. In the night this image came to life and
was a woman. The man and woman went down together to the
Rovuma to wash themselves. Here the woman gave birth to a still-
born child. They left that place and passed over the high land into the
valley of the Mbemkuru, where the woman had another child, which
was also born dead. Then they returned to the high bush country of
Mahuta, where the third child was born, which lived and grew up. In
course of time, the couple had many more children, and called
themselves Wamatanda. These were the ancestral stock of the
Makonde, also called Wamakonde,[48] i.e., aborigines. Their
forefather, the man from the bush, gave his children the command to
bury their dead upright, in memory of the mother of their race who
was cut out of wood and awoke to life when standing upright. He also
warned them against settling in the valleys and near large streams,
for sickness and death dwelt there. They were to make it a rule to
have their huts at least an hour’s walk from the nearest watering-
place; then their children would thrive and escape illness.”
The explanation of the name Makonde given by my informants is
somewhat different from that contained in the above legend, which I
extract from a little book (small, but packed with information), by
Pater Adams, entitled Lindi und sein Hinterland. Otherwise, my
results agree exactly with the statements of the legend. Washing?
Hapana—there is no such thing. Why should they do so? As it is, the
supply of water scarcely suffices for cooking and drinking; other
people do not wash, so why should the Makonde distinguish himself
by such needless eccentricity? As for shaving the head, the short,
woolly crop scarcely needs it,[49] so the second ancestral precept is
likewise easy enough to follow. Beyond this, however, there is
nothing ridiculous in the ancestor’s advice. I have obtained from
various local artists a fairly large number of figures carved in wood,
ranging from fifteen to twenty-three inches in height, and
representing women belonging to the great group of the Mavia,
Makonde, and Matambwe tribes. The carving is remarkably well
done and renders the female type with great accuracy, especially the
keloid ornamentation, to be described later on. As to the object and
meaning of their works the sculptors either could or (more probably)
would tell me nothing, and I was forced to content myself with the
scanty information vouchsafed by one man, who said that the figures
were merely intended to represent the nembo—the artificial
deformations of pelele, ear-discs, and keloids. The legend recorded
by Pater Adams places these figures in a new light. They must surely
be more than mere dolls; and we may even venture to assume that
they are—though the majority of present-day Makonde are probably
unaware of the fact—representations of the tribal ancestress.
 The references in the legend to the descent from Mahuta to the
Rovuma, and to a journey across the highlands into the Mbekuru
valley, undoubtedly indicate the previous history of the tribe, the
travels of the ancestral pair typifying the migrations of their
descendants. The descent to the neighbouring Rovuma valley, with
its extraordinary fertility and great abundance of game, is intelligible
at a glance—but the crossing of the Lukuledi depression, the ascent
to the Rondo Plateau and the descent to the Mbemkuru, also lie
within the bounds of probability, for all these districts have exactly
the same character as the extreme south. Now, however, comes a
point of especial interest for our bacteriological age. The primitive
Makonde did not enjoy their lives in the marshy river-valleys.
Disease raged among them, and many died. It was only after they
had returned to their original home near Mahuta, that the health
conditions of these people improved. We are very apt to think of the
African as a stupid person whose ignorance of nature is only equalled
by his fear of it, and who looks on all mishaps as caused by evil
spirits and malignant natural powers. It is much more correct to
assume in this case that the people very early learnt to distinguish
districts infested with malaria from those where it is absent.
This knowledge is crystallized in the
ancestral warning against settling in the
valleys and near the great waters, the
dwelling-places of disease and death. At the
same time, for security against the hostile
Mavia south of the Rovuma, it was enacted
that every settlement must be not less than a
certain distance from the southern edge of the
plateau. Such in fact is their mode of life at the
present day. It is not such a bad one, and
certainly they are both safer and more
comfortable than the Makua, the recent
intruders from the south, who have made USUAL METHOD OF
good their footing on the western edge of the CLOSING HUT-DOOR
plateau, extending over a fairly wide belt of
country. Neither Makua nor Makonde show in their dwellings
anything of the size and comeliness of the Yao houses in the plain,
especially at Masasi, Chingulungulu and Zuza’s. Jumbe Chauro, a
Makonde hamlet not far from Newala, on the road to Mahuta, is the
most important settlement of the tribe I have yet seen, and has fairly
spacious huts. But how slovenly is their construction compared with
the palatial residences of the elephant-hunters living in the plain.
The roofs are still more untidy than in the general run of huts during
the dry season, the walls show here and there the scanty beginnings
or the lamentable remains of the mud plastering, and the interior is a
veritable dog-kennel; dirt, dust and disorder everywhere. A few huts
only show any attempt at division into rooms, and this consists
merely of very roughly-made bamboo partitions. In one point alone
have I noticed any indication of progress—in the method of fastening
the door. Houses all over the south are secured in a simple but
ingenious manner. The door consists of a set of stout pieces of wood
or bamboo, tied with bark-string to two cross-pieces, and moving in
two grooves round one of the door-posts, so as to open inwards. If
the owner wishes to leave home, he takes two logs as thick as a man’s
upper arm and about a yard long. One of these is placed obliquely
against the middle of the door from the inside, so as to form an angle
of from 60° to 75° with the ground. He then places the second piece
horizontally across the first, pressing it downward with all his might.
It is kept in place by two strong posts planted in the ground a few
inches inside the door. This fastening is absolutely safe, but of course
cannot be applied to both doors at once, otherwise how could the
owner leave or enter his house? I have not yet succeeded in finding
out how the back door is fastened.

MAKONDE LOCK AND KEY AT JUMBE CHAURO

 This is the general way of closing a house. The Makonde at Jumbe
Chauro, however, have a much more complicated, solid and original
one. Here, too, the door is as already described, except that there is
only one post on the inside, standing by itself about six inches from
one side of the doorway. Opposite this post is a hole in the wall just
large enough to admit a man’s arm. The door is closed inside by a
large wooden bolt passing through a hole in this post and pressing
with its free end against the door. The other end has three holes into
which fit three pegs running in vertical grooves inside the post. The
door is opened with a wooden key about a foot long, somewhat
curved and sloped off at the butt; the other end has three pegs
corresponding to the holes, in the bolt, so that, when it is thrust
through the hole in the wall and inserted into the rectangular
opening in the post, the pegs can be lifted and the bolt drawn out.[50]

MODE OF INSERTING THE KEY

With no small pride first one householder and then a second

showed me on the spot the action of this greatest invention of the
Makonde Highlands. To both with an admiring exclamation of
“Vizuri sana!” (“Very fine!”). I expressed the wish to take back these
marvels with me to Ulaya, to show the Wazungu what clever fellows
the Makonde are. Scarcely five minutes after my return to camp at
Newala, the two men came up sweating under the weight of two
heavy logs which they laid down at my feet, handing over at the same
time the keys of the fallen fortress. Arguing, logically enough, that if
the key was wanted, the lock would be wanted with it, they had taken
their axes and chopped down the posts—as it never occurred to them
to dig them out of the ground and so bring them intact. Thus I have
two badly damaged specimens, and the owners, instead of praise,
come in for a blowing-up.
The Makua huts in the environs of Newala are especially
miserable; their more than slovenly construction reminds one of the
temporary erections of the Makua at Hatia’s, though the people here
have not been concerned in a war. It must therefore be due to
congenital idleness, or else to the absence of a powerful chief. Even
the baraza at Mlipa’s, a short hour’s walk south-east of Newala,
shares in this general neglect. While public buildings in this country
are usually looked after more or less carefully, this is in evident
danger of being blown over by the first strong easterly gale. The only
attractive object in this whole district is the grave of the late chief
Mlipa. I visited it in the morning, while the sun was still trying with
partial success to break through the rolling mists, and the circular
grove of tall euphorbias, which, with a broken pot, is all that marks
the old king’s resting-place, impressed one with a touch of pathos.
Even my very materially-minded carriers seemed to feel something
of the sort, for instead of their usual ribald songs, they chanted
solemnly, as we marched on through the dense green of the Makonde
bush:—
 “We shall arrive with the great master; we stand in a row and have
no fear about getting our food and our money from the Serkali (the
Government). We are not afraid; we are going along with the great
master, the lion; we are going down to the coast and back.”
With regard to the characteristic features of the various tribes here
on the western edge of the plateau, I can arrive at no other
conclusion than the one already come to in the plain, viz., that it is
impossible for anyone but a trained anthropologist to assign any
given individual at once to his proper tribe. In fact, I think that even
an anthropological specialist, after the most careful examination,
might find it a difficult task to decide. The whole congeries of peoples
collected in the region bounded on the west by the great Central
African rift, Tanganyika and Nyasa, and on the east by the Indian
Ocean, are closely related to each other—some of their languages are
only distinguished from one another as dialects of the same speech,
and no doubt all the tribes present the same shape of skull and
structure of skeleton. Thus, surely, there can be no very striking
differences in outward appearance.
 Even did such exist, I should have no time
to concern myself with them, for day after day,
I have to see or hear, as the case may be—in
any case to grasp and record—an
extraordinary number of ethnographic
phenomena. I am almost disposed to think it
fortunate that some departments of inquiry, at
least, are barred by external circumstances.
Chief among these is the subject of iron-
working. We are apt to think of Africa as a
country where iron ore is everywhere, so to
speak, to be picked up by the roadside, and
where it would be quite surprising if the
inhabitants had not learnt to smelt the
material ready to their hand. In fact, the
knowledge of this art ranges all over the
continent, from the Kabyles in the north to the
Kafirs in the south. Here between the Rovuma
and the Lukuledi the conditions are not so
favourable. According to the statements of the
Makonde, neither ironstone nor any other
form of iron ore is known to them. They have
not therefore advanced to the art of smelting
the metal, but have hitherto bought all their
THE ANCESTRESS OF
THE MAKONDE
iron implements from neighbouring tribes.
Even in the plain the inhabitants are not much
better off. Only one man now living is said to
understand the art of smelting iron. This old fundi lives close to
Huwe, that isolated, steep-sided block of granite which rises out of
the green solitude between Masasi and Chingulungulu, and whose
jagged and splintered top meets the traveller’s eye everywhere. While
still at Masasi I wished to see this man at work, but was told that,
frightened by the rising, he had retired across the Rovuma, though
he would soon return. All subsequent inquiries as to whether the
fundi had come back met with the genuine African answer, “Bado”
(“Not yet”).
 BRAZIER

Some consolation was afforded me by a brassfounder, whom I

came across in the bush near Akundonde’s. This man is the favourite
of women, and therefore no doubt of the gods; he welds the glittering
brass rods purchased at the coast into those massive, heavy rings
which, on the wrists and ankles of the local fair ones, continually give
me fresh food for admiration. Like every decent master-craftsman he
had all his tools with him, consisting of a pair of bellows, three
crucibles and a hammer—nothing more, apparently. He was quite
willing to show his skill, and in a twinkling had fixed his bellows on
the ground. They are simply two goat-skins, taken off whole, the four
legs being closed by knots, while the upper opening, intended to
admit the air, is kept stretched by two pieces of wood. At the lower
end of the skin a smaller opening is left into which a wooden tube is
stuck. The fundi has quickly borrowed a heap of wood-embers from
the nearest hut; he then fixes the free ends of the two tubes into an
earthen pipe, and clamps them to the ground by means of a bent
piece of wood. Now he fills one of his small clay crucibles, the dross
on which shows that they have been long in use, with the yellow
material, places it in the midst of the embers, which, at present are
only faintly glimmering, and begins his work. In quick alternation
the smith’s two hands move up and down with the open ends of the
bellows; as he raises his hand he holds the slit wide open, so as to let
the air enter the skin bag unhindered. In pressing it down he closes
the bag, and the air puffs through the bamboo tube and clay pipe into
the fire, which quickly burns up. The smith, however, does not keep
on with this work, but beckons to another man, who relieves him at
the bellows, while he takes some more tools out of a large skin pouch
carried on his back. I look on in wonder as, with a smooth round
stick about the thickness of a finger, he bores a few vertical holes into
the clean sand of the soil. This should not be difficult, yet the man
seems to be taking great pains over it. Then he fastens down to the
ground, with a couple of wooden clamps, a neat little trough made by
splitting a joint of bamboo in half, so that the ends are closed by the
two knots. At last the yellow metal has attained the right consistency,
and the fundi lifts the crucible from the fire by means of two sticks
split at the end to serve as tongs. A short swift turn to the left—a
tilting of the crucible—and the molten brass, hissing and giving forth
clouds of smoke, flows first into the bamboo mould and then into the
holes in the ground.
The technique of this backwoods craftsman may not be very far
advanced, but it cannot be denied that he knows how to obtain an
adequate result by the simplest means. The ladies of highest rank in
this country—that is to say, those who can afford it, wear two kinds
of these massive brass rings, one cylindrical, the other semicircular
in section. The latter are cast in the most ingenious way in the
bamboo mould, the former in the circular hole in the sand. It is quite
a simple matter for the fundi to fit these bars to the limbs of his fair
customers; with a few light strokes of his hammer he bends the
pliable brass round arm or ankle without further inconvenience to
the wearer.
SHAPING THE POT

SMOOTHING WITH MAIZE-COB

CUTTING THE EDGE

 FINISHING THE BOTTOM

LAST SMOOTHING BEFORE

BURNING

FIRING THE BRUSH-PILE

 LIGHTING THE FARTHER SIDE OF
THE PILE

TURNING THE RED-HOT VESSEL

NYASA WOMAN MAKING POTS AT MASASI

Pottery is an art which must always and everywhere excite the
interest of the student, just because it is so intimately connected with
the development of human culture, and because its relics are one of
the principal factors in the reconstruction of our own condition in
prehistoric times. I shall always remember with pleasure the two or
three afternoons at Masasi when Salim Matola’s mother, a slightly-
built, graceful, pleasant-looking woman, explained to me with
touching patience, by means of concrete illustrations, the ceramic art
of her people. The only implements for this primitive process were a
lump of clay in her left hand, and in the right a calabash containing
the following valuables: the fragment of a maize-cob stripped of all
its grains, a smooth, oval pebble, about the size of a pigeon’s egg, a
few chips of gourd-shell, a bamboo splinter about the length of one’s
hand, a small shell, and a bunch of some herb resembling spinach.
 Nothing more. The woman scraped with the
shell a round, shallow hole in the soft, fine
sand of the soil, and, when an active young
girl had filled the calabash with water for her,
she began to knead the clay. As if by magic it
gradually assumed the shape of a rough but
already well-shaped vessel, which only wanted
a little touching up with the instruments
before mentioned. I looked out with the
MAKUA WOMAN closest attention for any indication of the use
MAKING A POT. of the potter’s wheel, in however rudimentary
SHOWS THE a form, but no—hapana (there is none). The
BEGINNINGS OF THE embryo pot stood firmly in its little
POTTER’S WHEEL
depression, and the woman walked round it in
a stooping posture, whether she was removing
small stones or similar foreign bodies with the maize-cob, smoothing
the inner or outer surface with the splinter of bamboo, or later, after
letting it dry for a day, pricking in the ornamentation with a pointed
bit of gourd-shell, or working out the bottom, or cutting the edge
with a sharp bamboo knife, or giving the last touches to the finished
vessel. This occupation of the women is infinitely toilsome, but it is
without doubt an accurate reproduction of the process in use among
our ancestors of the Neolithic and Bronze ages.
There is no doubt that the invention of pottery, an item in human
progress whose importance cannot be over-estimated, is due to
women. Rough, coarse and unfeeling, the men of the horde range
over the countryside. When the united cunning of the hunters has
succeeded in killing the game; not one of them thinks of carrying
home the spoil. A bright fire, kindled by a vigorous wielding of the
drill, is crackling beside them; the animal has been cleaned and cut
up secundum artem, and, after a slight singeing, will soon disappear
under their sharp teeth; no one all this time giving a single thought
to wife or child.
To what shifts, on the other hand, the primitive wife, and still more
the primitive mother, was put! Not even prehistoric stomachs could
endure an unvarying diet of raw food. Something or other suggested
the beneficial effect of hot water on the majority of approved but
indigestible dishes. Perhaps a neighbour had tried holding the hard
roots or tubers over the fire in a calabash filled with water—or maybe
an ostrich-egg-shell, or a hastily improvised vessel of bark. They
became much softer and more palatable than they had previously
been; but, unfortunately, the vessel could not stand the fire and got
charred on the outside. That can be remedied, thought our
ancestress, and plastered a layer of wet clay round a similar vessel.
This is an improvement; the cooking utensil remains uninjured, but
the heat of the fire has shrunk it, so that it is loose in its shell. The
next step is to detach it, so, with a firm grip and a jerk, shell and
kernel are separated, and pottery is invented. Perhaps, however, the
discovery which led to an intelligent use of the burnt-clay shell, was
made in a slightly different way. Ostrich-eggs and calabashes are not
to be found in every part of the world, but everywhere mankind has
arrived at the art of making baskets out of pliant materials, such as
bark, bast, strips of palm-leaf, supple twigs, etc. Our inventor has no
water-tight vessel provided by nature. “Never mind, let us line the
basket with clay.” This answers the purpose, but alas! the basket gets
burnt over the blazing fire, the woman watches the process of
cooking with increasing uneasiness, fearing a leak, but no leak
appears. The food, done to a turn, is eaten with peculiar relish; and
the cooking-vessel is examined, half in curiosity, half in satisfaction
at the result. The plastic clay is now hard as stone, and at the same
time looks exceedingly well, for the neat plaiting of the burnt basket
is traced all over it in a pretty pattern. Thus, simultaneously with
pottery, its ornamentation was invented.
Primitive woman has another claim to respect. It was the man,
roving abroad, who invented the art of producing fire at will, but the
woman, unable to imitate him in this, has been a Vestal from the
earliest times. Nothing gives so much trouble as the keeping alight of
the smouldering brand, and, above all, when all the men are absent
from the camp. Heavy rain-clouds gather, already the first large
drops are falling, the first gusts of the storm rage over the plain. The
little flame, a greater anxiety to the woman than her own children,
flickers unsteadily in the blast. What is to be done? A sudden thought
occurs to her, and in an instant she has constructed a primitive hut
out of strips of bark, to protect the flame against rain and wind.
This, or something very like it, was the way in which the principle
of the house was discovered; and even the most hardened misogynist
cannot fairly refuse a woman the credit of it. The protection of the
hearth-fire from the weather is the germ from which the human
dwelling was evolved. Men had little, if any share, in this forward
step, and that only at a late stage. Even at the present day, the
plastering of the housewall with clay and the manufacture of pottery
are exclusively the women’s business. These are two very significant
survivals. Our European kitchen-garden, too, is originally a woman’s
invention, and the hoe, the primitive instrument of agriculture, is,
characteristically enough, still used in this department. But the
noblest achievement which we owe to the other sex is unquestionably
the art of cookery. Roasting alone—the oldest process—is one for
which men took the hint (a very obvious one) from nature. It must
have been suggested by the scorched carcase of some animal
overtaken by the destructive forest-fires. But boiling—the process of
improving organic substances by the help of water heated to boiling-
point—is a much later discovery. It is so recent that it has not even
yet penetrated to all parts of the world. The Polynesians understand
how to steam food, that is, to cook it, neatly wrapped in leaves, in a
hole in the earth between hot stones, the air being excluded, and
(sometimes) a few drops of water sprinkled on the stones; but they
do not understand boiling.
To come back from this digression, we find that the slender Nyasa
woman has, after once more carefully examining the finished pot,
put it aside in the shade to dry. On the following day she sends me
word by her son, Salim Matola, who is always on hand, that she is
going to do the burning, and, on coming out of my house, I find her
already hard at work. She has spread on the ground a layer of very
dry sticks, about as thick as one’s thumb, has laid the pot (now of a
yellowish-grey colour) on them, and is piling brushwood round it.
My faithful Pesa mbili, the mnyampara, who has been standing by,
most obligingly, with a lighted stick, now hands it to her. Both of
them, blowing steadily, light the pile on the lee side, and, when the
flame begins to catch, on the weather side also. Soon the whole is in a
blaze, but the dry fuel is quickly consumed and the fire dies down, so
that we see the red-hot vessel rising from the ashes. The woman
turns it continually with a long stick, sometimes one way and
sometimes another, so that it may be evenly heated all over. In
twenty minutes she rolls it out of the ash-heap, takes up the bundle
of spinach, which has been lying for two days in a jar of water, and
sprinkles the red-hot clay with it. The places where the drops fall are
marked by black spots on the uniform reddish-brown surface. With a
sigh of relief, and with visible satisfaction, the woman rises to an
erect position; she is standing just in a line between me and the fire,
from which a cloud of smoke is just rising: I press the ball of my
camera, the shutter clicks—the apotheosis is achieved! Like a
priestess, representative of her inventive sex, the graceful woman
stands: at her feet the hearth-fire she has given us beside her the
invention she has devised for us, in the background the home she has
built for us.
At Newala, also, I have had the manufacture of pottery carried on
in my presence. Technically the process is better than that already
described, for here we find the beginnings of the potter’s wheel,
which does not seem to exist in the plains; at least I have seen
nothing of the sort. The artist, a frightfully stupid Makua woman, did
not make a depression in the ground to receive the pot she was about
to shape, but used instead a large potsherd. Otherwise, she went to
work in much the same way as Salim’s mother, except that she saved
herself the trouble of walking round and round her work by squatting
at her ease and letting the pot and potsherd rotate round her; this is
surely the first step towards a machine. But it does not follow that
the pot was improved by the process. It is true that it was beautifully
rounded and presented a very creditable appearance when finished,
but the numerous large and small vessels which I have seen, and, in
part, collected, in the “less advanced” districts, are no less so. We
moderns imagine that instruments of precision are necessary to
produce excellent results. Go to the prehistoric collections of our
museums and look at the pots, urns and bowls of our ancestors in the
dim ages of the past, and you will at once perceive your error.
MAKING LONGITUDINAL CUT IN
BARK

DRAWING THE BARK OFF THE LOG

REMOVING THE OUTER BARK

 BEATING THE BARK

WORKING THE BARK-CLOTH AFTER BEATING, TO MAKE IT

SOFT

MANUFACTURE OF BARK-CLOTH AT NEWALA

To-day, nearly the whole population of German East Africa is
clothed in imported calico. This was not always the case; even now in
some parts of the north dressed skins are still the prevailing wear,
and in the north-western districts—east and north of Lake
Tanganyika—lies a zone where bark-cloth has not yet been
superseded. Probably not many generations have passed since such
bark fabrics and kilts of skins were the only clothing even in the
south. Even to-day, large quantities of this bright-red or drab
material are still to be found; but if we wish to see it, we must look in
the granaries and on the drying stages inside the native huts, where
it serves less ambitious uses as wrappings for those seeds and fruits
which require to be packed with special care. The salt produced at
Masasi, too, is packed for transport to a distance in large sheets of
bark-cloth. Wherever I found it in any degree possible, I studied the
process of making this cloth. The native requisitioned for the
purpose arrived, carrying a log between two and three yards long and
as thick as his thigh, and nothing else except a curiously-shaped
mallet and the usual long, sharp and pointed knife which all men and
boys wear in a belt at their backs without a sheath—horribile dictu!
[51]
Silently he squats down before me, and with two rapid cuts has
drawn a couple of circles round the log some two yards apart, and
slits the bark lengthwise between them with the point of his knife.
With evident care, he then scrapes off the outer rind all round the
log, so that in a quarter of an hour the inner red layer of the bark
shows up brightly-coloured between the two untouched ends. With
some trouble and much caution, he now loosens the bark at one end,
and opens the cylinder. He then stands up, takes hold of the free
edge with both hands, and turning it inside out, slowly but steadily
pulls it off in one piece. Now comes the troublesome work of
scraping all superfluous particles of outer bark from the outside of
the long, narrow piece of material, while the inner side is carefully
scrutinised for defective spots. At last it is ready for beating. Having
signalled to a friend, who immediately places a bowl of water beside
him, the artificer damps his sheet of bark all over, seizes his mallet,
lays one end of the stuff on the smoothest spot of the log, and
hammers away slowly but continuously. “Very simple!” I think to
myself. “Why, I could do that, too!”—but I am forced to change my
opinions a little later on; for the beating is quite an art, if the fabric is
not to be beaten to pieces. To prevent the breaking of the fibres, the
stuff is several times folded across, so as to interpose several
thicknesses between the mallet and the block. At last the required
state is reached, and the fundi seizes the sheet, still folded, by both
ends, and wrings it out, or calls an assistant to take one end while he
holds the other. The cloth produced in this way is not nearly so fine
and uniform in texture as the famous Uganda bark-cloth, but it is
quite soft, and, above all, cheap.
Now, too, I examine the mallet. My craftsman has been using the
simpler but better form of this implement, a conical block of some
hard wood, its base—the striking surface—being scored across and
across with more or less deeply-cut grooves, and the handle stuck
into a hole in the middle. The other and earlier form of mallet is
shaped in the same way, but the head is fastened by an ingenious
network of bark strips into the split bamboo serving as a handle. The
observation so often made, that ancient customs persist longest in
connection with religious ceremonies and in the life of children, here
finds confirmation. As we shall soon see, bark-cloth is still worn
during the unyago,[52] having been prepared with special solemn
ceremonies; and many a mother, if she has no other garment handy,
will still put her little one into a kilt of bark-cloth, which, after all,
looks better, besides being more in keeping with its African
surroundings, than the ridiculous bit of print from Ulaya.
MAKUA WOMEN