Broken Windows in Business

Broken Windows, Broken Business: How the Smallest Remedies Reap the Biggest Rewards
by Michael Levine

This vital, seminal work by Michael Levine proves that businesses get in trouble when they neglect small problems. If a window in a building is broken and left unrepaired, soon all the windows will be shattered, creating a perception of chaos. The same principle applies to business. Attention to detail demonstrates corporate competence-and that the company cares about the consumer. Broken windows-and peeling paint, worn carpets, and dirty restrooms-signal that the business doesn't care. Drawing on real-world examples, from JetBlue's decision to give fliers what they really want to Google's customer-based strategy for breaking out of the pack of Internet search engines, Levine shows how constant vigilance to the tiny details can make or break a business or a brand.

With practical tips and advice for all types of businesses, this compelling, breakthrough book in management theory will help countless companies stay ahead of their competition.

Chapter 1

The broken windows theory was such a revolutionary, seminal concept in criminal justice that when it was published in 1982, it was considered a complete and total reversal of everything that had come before it. The notion that perception was as important in controlling crime as statistics, that letting "small" crimes slide by was sending a signal not only that the criminals were in charge but that the police were either unwilling or unable to stop them, was laughed at, ridiculed, considered absurd or "radical."

It wasn't until the theory was put into practice in the 1990s on the world's largest stage, in the city of New York, that its seeming simplicity was shown to be genius. Between Mayor Rudolph Giuliani and Police Commissioner William Bratton, the commitment to fixing New York's broken windows - graffiti, fare jumping, squeegee wielding, and the like - might have sounded like an assault on an insignificant annoyance, but it was actually a call to arms, a declaration of war on crime, that proved to be the salvation of a city in crisis. In showing the world that New York City would not tolerate any infraction, Giuliani and Bratton were making the larger point that serious lawbreakers would be facing much harsher penalties. The good guys would be in charge here.

It is a distinction between "law" and "order," one that is important, because it defines what the broken windows theory means and how it will apply to the business world. To adhere to the law, one simply manages to live without violating the set code. Simple enough. But to maintain order in a city, country, or company, the goal must be to have everyone follow the same rules and to make sure that each rule carries the same weight.

To have a rule that says "Thou shalt not murder" and one that says "Don't cross the street against the light" seems like something approaching a contradiction - it sounds like the two infractions shouldn't even be mentioned in the same sentence. But both are rules, both are laws as set up by society. If it is generally accepted that we can violate one, isn't it logical that we could violate the other without any additional fear of punishment?

Rules don't have to be universal, either; they can vary from neighborhood to neighborhood, as the authors of "Broken Windows" discovered when the Newark, New Jersey, police made sure more officers on foot patrol were dispatched as an experiment in the 1970s. In one neighborhood, the foot-patrol officer, whom Wilson and Kelling called Kelly, was careful to enforce the informal, unwritten rules that were set up in that section of the city:

"Drunks and addicts could sit on the stoops, but could not lie down. People could drink on side streets, but not at the main intersection. Bottles had to be in paper bags. Talking to, bothering, or begging from people waiting at the bus stop was strictly forbidden. If a dispute erupted between a businessman and a customer, the businessman was assumed to be right, especially if the customer was a stranger. If a stranger loitered, Kelly would ask him if he had any means of support and what his business was; if he gave unsatisfactory answers, he was sent on his way. Persons who broke the informal rules, especially those who bothered people waiting at bus stops, were arrested for vagrancy. Noisy teenagers were told to keep quiet."1

Wilson and Kelling noted that "these rules were defined and enforced in collaboration with the 'regulars' on the street. Another neighborhood might have different rules, but these, everybody understood, were the rules for this neighborhood."

The rules in and of themselves were not exactly revolutionary, nor were they especially strict. There was not a "no tolerance" policy for addicts or alcoholics - they were simply asked to stay in certain areas and to not do certain things in public places. But the rules, as stated, were expected to be enforced, every one.

The same is true in the larger and more dramatic experiment that took place in New York City. When Giuliani and Bratton chose to crack down on graffiti artists, squeegee men, and fare jumpers (those who leap over turnstiles to gain free access to the subway system), they were making the statement that some things that were tolerated before would no longer be acceptable.

It was a calculated expression of control that was meant to make a statement not only to those who would spray-paint subway cars or jump over turnstiles - it was also meant (and, it could be argued, mostly meant) to be seen by the public.

As Wilson explained to me recently, the police chiefs to whom he and Kelling spoke were actually correct in their expectations that increased foot patrols would not make a difference in the overall crime rate. Where they did have an effect, however - and it was a major one - was on public perception: "on how people felt about their community and their willingness to use it, suggesting that fear of disorder was as important as fear of crime."

Copyright © 2005 by Michael Levine

About the Author

Michael Levine is the author of eight of the most popular reference books of the last decade. His 1984 The Address Book-How to Reach Anyone Who's Anyone and its seven consecutive sequel editions set standards for accuracy, completeness and public acceptance. Additional books include Take it from Me, 7 Life Lessons from Noah's Ark; How to Survive a Flood in Your Own Life, and public relations for the digital age, Guerrilla PR Wired. Levine's essays on a range of subjects have appeared in various prestigious publications including the L.A. Times, The Hollywood Reporter, San Francisco Chronicle, The New York Times, USA Today, and National Review.