In a world where the threads of order and chaos are perpetually at odds, the effectiveness of security measures in preventing loss, whether of property, life, or liberty, stands as an important inquiry. One cannot help but observe that the mechanisms designed to protect society often reveal as much about human nature as they do about the systems themselves.
The foundation of any just security system rests on the notion that fairness and impartiality must prevail. A society’s rules should not favour one group over another, nor should they be applied with prejudice. This principle suggests that security measures ought to be judged not merely by their outcomes but by their adherence to a consistent standard of justice. Yet, justice is not a monolith, it bends under the weight of interpretation. Some might argue that the law’s primary role is to protect individual rights, even at the expense of collective efficiency, while others see it as a tool to uphold a broader social order, sometimes requiring trade-offs between liberty and safety. In practice, security measures often straddle this divide, aiming to deter wrongdoing while preserving the dignity of the innocent.
From an economic perspective, the efficiency of security measures hinges on a cost-benefit calculus. Resources are finite, and the allocation of manpower, technology, and funds to loss prevention must be weighed against the value of what is protected. The data bears this out, in high-crime suburban areas, a 10% increase in police presence has been shown to reduce property crime by roughly 3-4%, yet the cost of such deployments often exceeds the monetary losses they prevent. This raises a fundamental question, are we investing wisely, or are we chasing diminishing returns? The market, left to its own devices, consistently suggests privatised security, hiring guards and installing deterrents like cameras etc, as more flexible responses than bloated bureaucracies. But markets, too, fail when information is uneven or when short-term gains obscure long-term consequences.
Human behaviour, as illuminated by psychology, complicates this picture further. People are not always rational actors in the classical sense, and yet they are driven by impulses, fears, and a search for meaning. Security measures that rely on deterrence, say, visible patrols or harsh penalties, assume that potential offenders weigh consequences logically. Yet, the mind defies such assumptions when rewarded by other means, like the significance associated with likes from a TikTok post.
Also, a young man in a moment of desperation may steal not because he calculates the odds of capture, but because he sees no other path. Conversely, the law-abiding citizen may overestimate rare risks, like terrorism, while ignoring mundane threats, like petty theft. This disconnect between perception and reality suggests that effective security must address not just the act of crime but the conditions that breed it, poverty, alienation, and more importantly a loss of purpose.
Criminology offers a sobering lens. Crime is not a random eruption but a pattern rooted in social dynamics. The “broken windows” approach, for instance, posits that visible signs of disorder, unfixed vandalism or humbugging and loitering, signal a lack of control, emboldening further lawlessness. Statistical evidence overwhelmingly supports this. Neighbourhoods with high rates of minor offences often see a 20-30% higher incidence of violent crime within a year. Security measures that prioritise rapid response to small infractions thus prevent escalation, but only if applied consistently. The flip side, however, is the risk of overreach, when heavy-handed tactics alienate communities, trust erodes, and the very order sought is undermined.
When security companies shift from private enterprise to government payroll, the incentives that once drove their effectiveness often twist into a perverse paradox. In the private sphere, success, in reducing theft, vandalism, or violence, bolsters a firm’s reputation and bottom line, as clients reward results with contracts and cash. But once funded by the state, or the taxpayer, the game changes. Eliminating threats risks drying up the very stream of taxpayer dollars that sustains them. The data underscores this shift, private security firms, when first deployed in high-crime zones, often cut incidents by 30-40% within months, yet when subsumed under government budgets, that initial drop plateaus or reverses within a year. The reason is simple yet stark, a company’s survival hinges on the persistence of the problem it’s paid to solve, not its eradication.
This misalignment breeds a subtle but corrosive dynamic. Effective guards and skilled personnel, the backbone of any serious security outfit, become liabilities when their success threatens the budget. Firms, now tethered to bureaucratic largesse, quietly reassign their best to new contracts or let them go, replacing them with cheaper, less capable hands. Quite often even worse, they hire ex-personnel from the failed government bureaucracies, importing a culture of mediocrity.
Crime spikes again, not by accident but by design, as the absence of robust deterrence invites opportunists back into the fray, statistics in the NT have shown a 15-25% uptick in offences within two years of such transitions. The public, sensing the lapse, loses faith, while the company secures its lifeline by ensuring the threat lingers just enough to justify its existence. What begins as a solution devolves into a self-perpetuating cycle, proving that even the most practical measures falter when the incentives reward stagnation over triumph.
Security expertise brings practical wisdom to this debate. The best measures are proactive, not reactive, anticipating threats through profiling, intelligence, and environmental design. A retail store with well-lit aisles, trained staff, and strategic camera placement can cut shoplifting by half, studies show, compared to one that merely reacts after the fact. Yet, profiling, whether of individuals or crowds, treads a fine line. Done poorly, it devolves into bias, done well, it leverages patterns of behaviours, like the fact that 80% of violent incidents in bars occur within 30 minutes of closing time, to pre-empt trouble. Its why, to the dismay of several of my past employers, providing even a 10-minute break to my bouncers an hour before close effectively reduced violent incidents when I was on shift by over 80%. Crowd behaviour, too, is predictable yet volatile, a peaceful gathering can turn riotous when anonymity and agitation collide, as seen in suburban unrest where 60% of participants admit to acting impulsively under group pressure.
Interviews with those who navigate these tensions, offenders, victims, and enforcers, reveal a stark truth. Security is as much about perception as reality. A shop owner who feels safe with a guard at the door may thrive, even if the guard deters little. A community that trusts its protectors reports crimes at twice the rate of one that doesn’t, amplifying the system’s effectiveness. But trust is fragile. When security becomes a cudgel rather than a shield, when it punishes more than it prevents, it sows resentment. The data is telling, in areas where police are seen as fair, compliance with the law rises by 15-20%, even among those with prior records.
Philosophy, too, weighs in. The human soul, torn between freedom and order, seeks a balance that security measures must reflect. A society that sacrifices too much liberty for safety risks losing its essence, while one that clings to unfettered freedom invites chaos. The gulag’s lesson is clear, absolute control crushes the spirit, yet absolute neglect breeds predation. Effective loss prevention, then, is not just a technical exercise but a moral one, requiring a humility that acknowledges human imperfection and a resolve to protect without dominating.
So, how do we evaluate these measures? First, by their outcomes!
Do they reduce loss without disproportionate cost? Second, by their fairness.
Do they target the guilty without ensnaring the innocent? Third, by their impact on the human condition
Do they foster trust and resilience, or fear and division? The evidence suggests a mixed record.
A 2019 study found that advanced surveillance cut crime rates by as much as 13% in some monitored areas, yet public unease about privacy rose in tandem. Private security firms, now a $300 billion industry, outperform public forces in many specific contexts, malls, campuses, hospitals, and hospitality venues. But they lack the accountability of elected oversight. The effective counter to this is anti-trust laws that reduce the chance of monopolisation and security forces becoming too large and complacent. Another is de-regulation, to allow competition to thrive in the private security industry to ensure market-determined pricing, as opposed to government interventions.
An example of the destruction of government intervention. The imposition of heightened training requirements, such as the Certificate III in Security Operations in Victoria and Queensland, coupled with mandated refresher courses in Queensland, has quietly shifted the burden onto frontline security workers, jacking up their costs while thinning their ranks.
These regulations, supposedly intended to elevate standards, demand hundreds of hours of coursework and periodic retraining, expenses that fall on the workers themselves, who must fork over thousands of dollars for certification and lost wages during training. At a time when the industry was already gasping for air, understaffed by a staggering 15%, the result was predictable, thousands of guards, unwilling or unable to shoulder the added load, simply walked away. The numbers tell the tale, where once the sector boasted a robust workforce, it haemorrhaged personnel, leaving gaps that no amount of good intentions could fill, all while demand for security has soared.
Meanwhile, the consolidation of government contracts into the hands of a few hulking security firms has tilted the playing field, inviting foreign giants to muscle in while crushing smaller Australian companies under the weight of legal liability and compliance costs. These sprawling contracts, often worth millions, come with risks that local outfits, lacking the deep pockets or legal teams of their overseas rivals, can’t stomach. In a blink, the industry saw a 50% drop in the number of firms, as homegrown players folded or sold out, stifling innovation and research that once thrived in a competitive market. Government-imposed price fixing only tightened the noose, locking in rates that favour scale over agility, and leaving the frontline staffed increasingly by vulnerable foreign students, cheap labour eager to meet visa demands but ill-equipped for the job’s rigours. What’s left is a hollowed-out sector, where profit trump’s purpose and the human cost is measured in lost livelihoods and diluted standards.
I predicted much of this in the early 2000s as I observed the same failed policies introduced by our southern New Zealand cousins. However, it wasn’t until I was headhunted in 2018 that I saw an opportunity to counter it, through effective cross-training of entry-level security personnel, having trained over 900 personnel since I can proudly state that 14 security companies Australia-wide (as of Jan 2025) have been effectively created and remain successful through my tutelage and coaching. By empowering others, we empower the world.
The effectiveness of security measures lies in their alignment with reality, economic, psychological, and social. No system will eliminate loss, the human propensity for error and malice ensures that. But a system that balances deterrence with dignity, and efficiency with equity, mitigates it.
As a security consultant, I’d argue for a pragmatic approach, invest in what works, lighting, training, and community ties, while pruning what doesn’t, bloated bureaucracies, and knee-jerk crackdowns. As a citizen, I’d add this, the best security is a society that believes in itself, for no lock or guard can rival the strength of a people united in purpose and mutual respect. That, more than any gadget or policy, is the true bastion against loss. From the author.
The opinions and statements are those of Sam Wilks and do not necessarily represent whom Sam Consults or contracts to. Sam Wilks is a skilled and experienced Security Consultant with almost 3 decades of expertise in the fields of Real estate, Security, and the hospitality/gaming industry. His knowledge and practical experience have made him a valuable asset to many organizations looking to enhance their security measures and provide a safe and secure environment for their clients and staff.
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