Introduction

When you are searching for a solution, the first step is to understand the problem. But if the first step is carried to completion, you will have already arrived at the goal. For, when you fully understand a problem, the solution will be evident from the depth of that understanding. In the following pages, I will attempt to develop such a self-evident solution for the problem of crime. The approach I propose is somewhat unconventional, but I'm hoping the discussion will provide such a clear picture that there won't be anything left to prove when we're done. The problem description by itself will show what's required.

My view is that of a resident of Prince George's County Maryland, a close-in suburb of Washington DC. I make my home in the Westchester Estates subdivision of Camp Springs, about ten miles from Capitol Hill. Westchester has experienced a recurring incidence of crime, and I'll describe the extent of the problem shortly, but I'd first like to introduce some abstract notions pertaining to how society functions. We're going to take a close look at the grass roots, because that's where people interact in the most fundamental ways.

The development of our argument will depend on how one interprets certain key concepts; which is to say, how we define them. For this reason, we'll put substantial energy into formulating solid definitions, hopefully derived in a state of clear cognition. The clarity of thought and certainty of definition will guide our interpretation, and from this foundation the solutions will manifest. Before we examine the concepts in question, let me offer some general comments on the subject of language.

There are a number of terms we use in casual conversation which appear to have simple and straightforward meaning, but which, on more careful reflection, reveal a connection to deeper regions. Community is such a term. Knowledge, happiness, love, reason, will, character, culture all fit this category. Even a seemingly clear-cut notion like crime can be shown to have more subtle significance. And I don't even include such words as spirit, divine, God, heaven or hell—terms we would certainly acknowledge to have deeper meaning, yet which are tossed about just as casually as the others. We hear these terms all the time. Teachers speak them in classrooms. Lawyers use them in court. Your barber utters them while he trims your hair. Politicians, journalists, academics ... they all make extensive use of these expressions. Yet the terms are quite often misused. Abused, you might even say.

For example, a story in the newspaper described how the vacation home of a tobacco company executive was destroyed in a fire caused by a discarded cigarette. The headline read, "Divine Justice." It brought to mind childhood tussles in which we would taunt, "God punished you!" to a playmate who committed some foolish act that backfired. Did we kids have the slightest idea what the word "God" meant? Of course not. Did the article's author grasp the deeper meaning of "divine" or of "justice"? It's doubtful.

A science writer for another paper, commenting on research into astrophysical phenomena, declared that, "Until we understand the universe, we can't understand ourselves." It's a deep-sounding thought, and it apparently impressed the editors as they extracted the sentence and posted it under the headline. When you give this statement closer scrutiny, however, a number of questions arise. What does it mean to understand something, and how does one understand one's "self"? Furthermore, what connection is there between yourself and the universe? I suggest this writer's thinking is 180 degrees off. It would seem you must understand yourself before you can understand anything else.

The fact is, we are beset from every direction with misleading language and vacuous speech. There is so much imprecision in how language is used that you hardly ever hear a coherent idea. As a result, it has become impossible for the average person to distinguish where the gossip stops and the meaningful thought begins. Moreover, we have grown so accustomed to this condition that people don't realize there could be more to understand. The very phrase "deeper meaning" has no meaning for us. Consider some examples from perhaps the most insidious source of inanity, television. Say you wanted to understand what life was. By clicking on the tube you'll discover that "life is a sport" and you should "drink it up." A renowned athlete speaks these words in a soft drink commercial. Not a fanciful commercial this one. On the contrary, its composition is quite serious, as if to amplify the dignity of the sports idol who imparts this supposed wisdom. What about wisdom itself? We'd all certainly like to know what that is. Fortunately, there's a large brokerage that has it figured out. Their commercial informs us that "wisdom comes from insight." With its tone and style it suggests profound knowledge residing in the firm. They would have you believe that if we buy stocks from them, some of that knowledge will be transferred to us. It's clear their marketing strategy relies on the ignorance of the general public; they count on the fact that few will notice how silly this nonsense is.

"So what," you say. "It's only a commercial. No one takes it seriously."

But if commercials are not meant to be serious,. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .text truncated