Is it true that disorder leads to crime? The broken windows theory

A bottle lying on the sidewalk. A streetlight that hasn't been lit for weeks. A broken window on the corner, ignored by all passersby. Small details that seem irrelevant, almost invisible, but that hide a disturbing question: can the smallest disorder alter the way we live and behave in community?

For years, criminologists and sociologists have observed a curious pattern: when an environment conveys neglect, people act differently. Behaviors emerge that would otherwise be unthinkable. We're not talking about major organized crimes, but rather something more subtle and everyday: the decision to throw trash on the ground because there's already trash, the temptation to paint graffiti where there's already graffiti, or the indifference of walking past a minor theft because the entire street already seems out of control.

In this context, the so-called broken windows theory was born, a hypothesis that shook modern criminology and shaped the way many cities understood urban security.

At first, it seems like a simple oversight, an unimportant detail. But over time, that crack becomes a silent message: there's no control here, no one's watching . And what begins as a broken window can end up as an entire neighborhood in decay.

That's the essence of the broken windows theory, proposed by criminologists James Q. Wilson and George L. Kelling in 1982. Their idea is direct, but powerful:

• Visible disorder (graffiti, trash, burned-out streetlights, broken glass, etc.) not only reflects neglect, it causes it.
• Every sign of deterioration acts as a tacit invitation to further disrespect.
• And when these small offenses accumulate, they open the door to bigger crimes.

The fascinating thing about this theory is that it reminds us of something simple but disturbing: spaces speak. A clean and well-maintained street conveys security. A deteriorated street, on the other hand, seems to tell everyone that disorder is allowed.

In other words, order—or disorder—is not just aesthetic, it is a social message.

Sociological tests and experiments

The broken windows theory didn't emerge out of nowhere; it was tested in real-life scenarios with results that are hard to ignore.

In 1969, psychologist Philip Zimbardo—yes, the same one from the famous Stanford Prison Experiment—decided to abandon two identical cars in very different locations: one in the Bronx, a neighborhood with high crime rates, and the other in Palo Alto, an affluent area of ​​California. The Bronx car was vandalized within hours. The Palo Alto car remained intact… until Zimbardo deliberately broke a window. From that moment on, the vandalism escalated. The sign of abandonment, though minimal, had unleashed a storm.

Decades later, Wilson and Kelling observed similar patterns in New Jersey neighborhoods: when signs of deterioration appeared—paper on the floor, uncollected trash, unkempt facades—antisocial behaviors increased rapidly. These weren't spectacular offenses, but rather small transgressions that, when combined, eroded the quality of life.

The idea reached its peak in New York City during the 1990s. Under Mayor Rudolph Giuliani and Police Chief William Bratton, a "zero tolerance" strategy was adopted: aggressively pursuing petty offenses, from subway trespassing to graffiti. Crime rates dropped dramatically. The debate remains: Was this the direct effect of this policy or did it coincide with other factors, such as economic and demographic changes? What is certain is that this large-scale social experiment marked a turning point in urban security management.

The impact on cities

The broken windows theory didn't stay in classrooms or academic articles. It took to the streets and became a guide for local governments, mayors, and police chiefs looking for quick fixes to combat crime.

In the 1990s, New York was the most visible laboratory. The logic was simple: if you took care of the small details, you sent a message of control and security that deterred potential criminals.

The decline in the city's crime rate was so notable that many cities around the world replicated the model. Los Angeles, Chicago, London, and Amsterdam implemented similar strategies: intensive cleaning of public spaces, increased police presence in run-down neighborhoods, and rapid restoration of damaged infrastructure. The theory was transformed into urban policy, and with it, also a symbol: keeping the streets in order became synonymous with keeping crime at bay.

However, the widespread application of this idea also drew criticism. In some places, it led to disproportionate policing practices, with excessive prosecution of minor offenses and a clear bias toward poor or minority communities. What began as a sociological metaphor ended up becoming a political and policing weapon, with ambiguous consequences: cleaner and more orderly cities, yes, but also heated debates about civil rights, discrimination, and social justice.

Conclusions

The data is consistent: neglected environments produce neglected behavior. A broken window isn't just a broken pane of glass; it's a social message that legitimizes neglect. Zimbardo demonstrated this with cars, Wilson and Kelling observed it in neighborhoods, and New York confirmed it on a metropolitan scale. The scientific conclusion is inescapable: physical space shapes human behavior .

But beyond the numbers, the broken windows theory poses a deeper question: what does it say about ourselves that we need material reminders to respect the rules? If an unerased graffiti or a dirty sidewalk is enough to relax our everyday ethics, perhaps what's at stake isn't just urban safety, but the fragility of the social arrangements we take for granted.

Repairing a window doesn't magically prevent crime. What it does is prevent the feeling of abandonment. And that's the true power of this theory: it reminds us that communities are sustained both by the force of law and by small gestures that demonstrate that "here we matter, here we care." A timely repaired streetlight may not change the world, but it can change the way we inhabit it.

However, applying this theory without nuance can turn it into a double-edged sword. In many cities, the "zero tolerance" policy has ended up resulting in excessive surveillance of the most vulnerable, punishing poverty more than preventing crime. This is the paradox: an idea conceived to protect coexistence can, if applied rigidly, erode the social justice it purports to safeguard.

Perhaps the greatest lesson of this theory is that spaces are mirrors. They reflect what we accept, what we tolerate, and what we choose to protect. And in that reflection, we discover that each broken window speaks not only of the neighborhood, but of the community that chooses to ignore it… or repair it.

References

Kelling, G.L., & Wilson, J.Q. (1982). Broken windows: The police and neighborhood safety. The Atlantic Monthly , 249(3), 29–38.

Kelling, G.L., & Coles, C.M. (1996). Fixing broken windows: Restoring order and reducing crime in our communities . New York: Free Press.

Skogan, W. G. (1990). Disorder and decline: Crime and the spiral of decay in American neighborhoods . New York: Free Press.

Sampson, R.J., & Raudenbush, S.W. (1999). Systematic social observation of public spaces: A new look at disorder in urban neighborhoods. American Journal of Sociology , 105(3), 603–651. https://doi.org/10.1086/210356

Zimbardo, P. G. (1969). The human choice: Individuation, reason, and order versus deindividuation, impulse, and chaos. In W. J. Arnold & D. Levine (Eds.), Nebraska Symposium on Motivation (Vol. 17, pp. 237–307). Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press.

Harcourt, B. E. (2001). Illusion of order: The false promise of broken windows policing . Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.