We’re Not Tough on Crime.

We’re tough on criminals.
That difference isn’t semantic.
It’s everything.

Our fight shouldn’t be against people. It should be against crime. Confusing the two has cost us decades of failure, trillions of squandered tax dollars, and millions of shattered lives—on both sides of prison walls.

We demand tougher penalties, but punishment has become a reflex, not an effective response. More charges. Longer sentences. Harsher conditions. Cages have become our knee-jerk, emotional solution…yet crime persists.

Why?

Because we are being reactive instead of proactive. We keep fighting the people instead of fixing systems.

This will aggravate some, but it’s a literal truth: “criminals” aren’t the problem. They aren’t NPCs placed here to lower the bar so the rest of us feel better about ourselves. They are people reacting…often poorly and harmfully…to conditions that failed them first. If their behavior is unacceptable, then so is their upbringing, their resources, their true and equitable opportunity.

Crime isn’t what children aspire to. It’s what hopeless adults turn to. It grows where wages no longer cover rent, where healthcare is out of reach, where education is underfunded, inequitable, and ineffective…and where entire communities are treated as disposable…or worse, invisible.

We’ll never reduce crime by extending sentences. The data proves that.
We reduce crime by reducing panic and desperation.

Here’s the part that makes people nervous: the most powerful resource we can provide isn’t punishment, and it isn’t even material aid…not directly. It’s perceived safety. The simple knowledge that one mistake won’t ruin your life.

We misunderstand the programs, the safety nets. They aren’t about rescuing people. They’re about freeing them. People need to know that if they stumble, they’ll fall…but they won’t be destroyed.

But won’t these programs and safety nets be abused?

No. Not to a level that matters. Hear me out.

I once watched a sports program where comedian Ray Romano was coached by legendary golf instructor Hank Haney. Hank recorded the accuracy and distance of Ray’s first shots on each hole over an 18 holes round of golf. A few days later, Haney gave Ray a mulligan…a do-over…for each hole. Naturally, Ray’s performance improved dramatically. But here’s the counter-intuitive element: Romano’s score didn’t improve so dramatically because he used his do-overs. He didn’t need to. His performance improved because he knew if I failed, he’d get another chance.

Knowing he had a safety net relaxed his body, freed his swing, and improved his performance. Nothing about his skill changed. Only the perceived cost of failure did.

That’s perceived safety.

It isn’t the absence of accountability.
It’s the absence of panic.

When failure feels catastrophic, people stop trying to succeed and start trying not to lose. They play defense. They hide. They survive rather than thrive.

When people know they’ll be okay even if they fail, they take healthier risks. They try. They self-correct. They stabilize. Most don’t need to be rescued…just like Ray didn’t need his mulligans. They just need to know that when they fall…when they fail…they might fall to the ground, but they won’t fall off a cliff.

Safety nets work, not because they’re used, but because they’re there.

Perceived safety doesn’t make people reckless.
It makes them capable.

And here’s the irony: the more brutal and punitive the system, the more expensive it becomes to keep afloat. The more humane, the permanent the safety net, the less it’s needed.

That’s not softness.
That’s how human nervous systems work.

A society that pays poverty wages and then criminalizes survival isn’t enforcing justice…it’s enforcing disparity. And that failure compounds. It multiplies.

We preach personal responsibility while building a world where independence is out of reach for tens of millions. We talk about choice while stripping people of real options. Then we blame individuals for outcomes we created, paid for, and implemented.

That isn’t accountability.
It’s policy failure disguised as virtue.

Did you know that the United States holds only about 4 percent of the world’s population, yet roughly 22 percent of the world’s incarcerated people? If mass incarceration were simply about crime, those numbers would resemble each other. They don’t. We aren’t the most dangerous society on Earth…we are the most punitive.

If we were serious about being tough on crime, we’d focus on prevention, not punishment.

Living wages.
Equitable education.
Affordable housing.
Accessible healthcare.
Human dignity.

That kind of toughness isn’t flashy. It won’t fit on a political slogan. It requires humility, patience, and the courage to admit that cruelty has never been strength.

Punishment is easy.
Scapegoating is easy.
Building systems that actually work is hard.

But if the goal is safer communities…not just fuller prisons…we have to start preventing rather than punishing.

You don’t defeat crime by crushing people.
You defeat crime by removing the conditions that make crime feel like the only option left.

Everything else is theater.