Gabe Oppenheim | Penn's crime stats don't fit the mold

You might have heard about last week's fracas between this newspaper and Penn's Division of Public Safety. It started when the latter group stopped releasing information regarding crime victims' exact affiliations with the University.

Previously, the division had stated whether the victim was a student, faculty member or staffer. But at some point this semester, the division began saying only whether the victim was affiliated with Penn at all.

This angered The Daily Pennsylvanian, which accused the division of "putting PR over safety" in a staff editorial. And the DP angered the division, which called the editorial "incredibly disingenuous."

In the background, one could almost hear Michael Buffer's deep voice rising to a crescendo of "let's get ready to rumble."

Except, before anyone could get ready, the Division of Public Safety retreated, announcing last Wednesday that it would once again delineate victims' University affiliations.

It's a good thing, too, but not because University affiliations matter. Frankly, if someone were fatally shot near Penn's campus, it wouldn't make a difference whether he were a student, teacher or janitor. We'd deem the area unsafe regardless, knowing someone could be killed so close to our homes.

No, it's a good thing that this fight is over because now Penn can focus on crime information that really matters.

Indeed, the gist of this newspaper's gripe seemed accurate: Knowing less about local crime makes us all less safe.

But victims' Penn affiliations tell us little about crime, since we already know that students are far more likely than faculty to walk around here at night. What tells us more are the types of crimes occurring, which Penn must list in three detailed studies per year - one for the state, one for the FBI and one for the U.S. Department of Education.

The FBI and the Education Department demand different reports from universities. Under the Clery Act, schools must release statistics to the Education Department for several crimes, including burglary, which is defined as a theft that involves trespassing; but schools need not record the number of larcenies, or thefts that don't entail trespassing.

On the other hand, the FBI does require statistics for larcenies. And so, one can compare Penn's report to the FBI with its Education Department report to piece together a fuller picture of local crime.

Indeed, the key to understanding Penn's statistics lies in the difference between its reported burglaries and larcenies. If Penn were to record many thefts, but most of them were larcenies, we'd be silly to worry about the safety of our streets. After all, the crime would be coming from within - and we'd all rather deal with thieving neighbors than roving muggers.

But if Penn were to record mostly burglaries, that would indicate an epidemic of outsiders entering Penn for the sole purpose of committing crime. A much scarier idea, I think.

As it turns out, Penn reports far more larcenies than burglaries - improbably more. In 2004, Penn reported 18 burglaries and 205 overall thefts per 10,000 students. That means Penn had about 10 times more larcenies than burglaries.

But, as The Wall Street Journal pointed out in October, "Larcenies occurred three to four times more often than burglaries nationwide in 2004." So Penn's 10-1 ratio exceeded the national rate significantly.

To Penn's credit, one reason for the gap could be the University's newer security precautions, which make it difficult for anyone to break into a dormitory. In 1994, a nude stranger consistently broke into Quadrangle bathrooms. That no longer happens.

But there might a more insidious reason for the gap - an underreporting of burglary as it's defined by the FBI. "If an item is missing from a structure, and it is unknown who took the item, the proper classification would be burglary," the FBI says with regard to a theft from a "residence-hall room." This is despite the fact that "other students in the room have the 'opportunity' to take the item."

Penn reported one "on-campus residential" burglary in 2004 and two in 2005. Yet it's hard to imagine only two unsolved cases of stolen dorm items in one year. Which isn't to say that our University intentionally fudges its data, for the national crime-reporting guidelines consist of a hair-splitting 200-page document. One could easily make a mistake.

That mistake would come with a fine of "$27,500 for each instance of misclassified theft," according to the Journal. So, if we want to start analyzing crime information, it would probably be best to start there, and not with affiliations.

Gabe Oppenheim is a College sophomore from Scarsdale, N.Y. His e-mail address is oppenheim@dailypennsylvanian.com. Opp-Ed appears on Wednesdays.

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