In the world of public safety and security, it’s an unsettling truth that many of the systems intended to protect and rehabilitate the vulnerable have instead become engines that sustain and intensify the very crises they claim to address. The security industry, particularly in places like the Northern Territory of Australia, faces this paradox. While security professionals work to keep communities safe, bureaucrats and NGOs, particularly those within the so-called “prison reform” and “social justice” arenas, have become adept at capitalising on the chaos wrought by crime and violence. They transform it into a profitable industry, feeding off taxpayer funds in a cycle that seems resistant to change.
To see how this system functions, we need to look no further than recent experiences in the United States, particularly in California. There, bureaucratic entities and NGOs have found ways to keep the machinery of crime running, using it to draw substantial funding from various levels of government. This approach has a startling resemblance to practices observed in the Northern Territory, where similar entities use claims of benevolence to mask their true objectives. They impose policies that perpetuate suffering, enrich themselves, and undermine the hard work of security professionals who are genuinely committed to public safety.
The model begins with a strategic exploitation of “crises.” Whether it’s youth crime or gang violence, these bureaucrats and NGO leaders present themselves as advocates for reform, citing the need for compassion, rehabilitation, and support for the marginalised. But, in practice, this compassionate language acts as a veneer for a more brutal purpose. Seeking to ensure a consistent stream of funding that keeps their organisations and, in many cases, their own careers, secure.
In California, for example, these “reformers” have succeeded in reducing penalties for many serious crimes, supposedly in the name of restorative justice. However, the lack of consequences has resulted in a rise in repeat offences, particularly among young offenders who are frequently the targets of adult criminals and gang members. The “benevolent” policies not only fail to kerb crime but often fuel it, creating a self-sustaining loop where young offenders are recycled through the system without meaningful intervention. This is mirrored by similar actions inthe NT and the proliferation of violent criminal gangs.
What’s the incentive for these organisations to make genuine changes? Not much. In fact, solving the problem would remove the need for their services, drying up their funding. The same dynamic is increasingly visible in the Northern Territory, where NGOs operate as taxpayer-funded cartels. They argue for more resources to address the crime crisis, yet seem uninterested in implementing policies or programs that would make their own services obsolete. Instead, they prioritise maintaining their own power and influence.
These NGOs aren’t operating in isolation; they are merely the storefronts of a larger bureaucratic system that controls the purse strings. Bureaucrats who funnel taxpayer funds into these organisations have their own incentives: job security, political leverage, and access to lucrative positions after retirement, or retrenchment. When these bureaucrats direct funding to NGOs, it’s less about solving social problems and more about creating a constituency, individuals and organisations beholden to the bureaucratic class.
The benefits to these government operatives and bureaucrats are significant. They remain in power by directing taxpayer dollars towards NGOs, many of which act as redeployment entities where former bureaucrats or their allies find post-retirement positions. These jobs offer a steady income, and the organisations themselves become extensions of government reach into society, effectively expanding bureaucratic control without direct governmental oversight.
For decades, the Northern Territory has provided clear examples of this troubling trend: former politicians and senior bureaucrats are routinely appointed to top positions in non-governmental organisations. Even ostensibly well-intentioned entities, such as the Cancer Council of the Northern Territory, are not immune to this practice. This revolving door between government and the non-profit sector undermines the accountability and effectiveness of these organisations, perpetuating the very systems of patronage and cronyism that actively hinder meaningful change.
This setup creates an ecosystem where bureaucrats protect their own interests while ensuring that NGOs have little reason to seek actual solutions. Why solve a problem if doing so would undermine your career? For security professionals, the consequences are glaringly apparent. The very institutions that could reduce crime instead fuel it, leaving security personnel to handle the fallout.
One of the most visible aspects of this crisis is the rise in youth crime. This increase is not a natural occurrence but rather a byproduct of policies that allow crime to flourish while protecting its perpetrators. Young offenders commit the majority of crimes in the Northern Territory, as they do in some parts of the United States, frequently on the orders of more senior family members or gang leaders. These juveniles are used as pawns in a larger game, shielded from the full force of legal consequences while their actions generate more work, and thus more funding, for NGOs and the bureaucracies that sustain them.
From a security perspective, this manipulation of youth is particularly frustrating. Many security professionals like myself have seen firsthand the impact of these policies on communities. The cycle is clear: more leniency leads to more crime, which leads to more funding for the very entities that should be working to prevent it. Instead of confronting these realities, NGOs and bureaucratic advocates of “reform” insist that more funding is needed to “educate” and “rehabilitate” young offenders, even as their interventions fail to produce meaningful results.
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In the NT, just on the surface, there are at least 6 departments actively funded to deal with the juvenile crime problem.
Department of Territory Families, Housing and Communities,
Department of Education,
Northern Territory Police, Fire and Emergency Services,
Department of the Attorney-General and Justice,
Youth Justice Court of the Northern Territory,
Department of Health
Often the objectives of these departments are completely opposed to one another.
To the public, these policies are often framed as benevolent. Media campaigns touting rehabilitation over punishment and compassion over discipline have created a public perception that leniency is synonymous with moral superiority. It is not; it's actually abusive. However, those in the security industry see the reality behind this promoted benevolence: these policies don’t just fail, they actively perpetuate the conditions they claim to combat.
What’s rarely discussed is the damage done to communities that bear the brunt of this cycle. Each new crime committed under the watch of these NGOs translates into fear, loss, and suffering for the public. Security personnel respond to incidents, protect assets, and attempt to restore a semblance of peace, all while NGOs and bureaucrats capitalise on the turmoil to argue for more resources. Benevolence, in this context, becomes a weapon that enforces malevolent outcomes, targeting communities for profit rather than serving them for progress.
In a system where NGOs profit from crime, the burden on security professionals is enormous. The very nature of the work is reactive rather than proactive, as policies that could reduce crime are intentionally avoided. As a result, security personnel and experts find themselves in an uphill battle where the very organisations that claim to share their goals undermine their efforts.
As crime becomes normalised within this system, security professionals are forced to adapt to a more dangerous landscape. Basic principles of deterrence and discipline are dismissed, leaving law enforcement and security teams with fewer effective tools to maintain order. This isn’t just an inconvenience; it’s a fundamental failure to protect communities.
For those in the security industry, it’s imperative to understand how this system works. As a trainer, we actively discuss these issues and provide rulings and sentences, or lack thereof, for those associated with perpetuating this abuse. Recognising that the rise in crime is not a random occurrence but rather an engineered outcome of policy decisions made by NGOs and bureaucrats allows security professionals to better anticipate the challenges they face. This awareness drives the industry professionals to advocate for genuine reform rather than piecemeal measures that only serve to enrich those already feeding off the problem.
Security companies and their licensees frequently pursue agendas that are in direct conflict with the interests of both their personnel and the public. There is often a troubling enthusiasm for acquiring new "tools" such as batons, handcuffs, OC spray, and tactical vests, yet little consideration is given to the underlying reasons these protective measures are necessary, nor the significant costs they impose on businesses and the community.
The push towards a militarised security force is not only undesirable but also dangerous. The continual lobbying by companies for expanded "administrative powers" to enhance the privileges of security personnel must be met with unwavering resistance. As history has shown, greater power inevitably invites greater corruption, and this principle must remain a guiding consideration in the debate over security practices. The consistent failures of acceptable behaviour by the NT Police and the failure to hold their members to account provide clear evidence why the security industry must deter and avoid any influence by this militarised defender of the state.
The solution lies not in pouring more funds into NGOs but in demanding accountability from both NGOs and the bureaucracies that support them. This means pushing for policies that prioritise public safety over political narratives and encouraging a shift from dependency to empowerment. Genuine reform requires that NGOs and bureaucrats be held responsible for measurable outcomes, not simply the maintenance of high participation or recidivism rates.
For security professionals, advocating for such changes is a moral and professional responsibility. Public safety cannot and should not be a growth industry for NGOs or a retirement plan for bureaucrats. It must be a sincere effort to create safe, self-reliant communities. This will require rethinking the relationship between public institutions and private security, as well as challenging the entrenched interests that profit from crime.
As security professionals, we must continue to expose the disconnect between the promoted ideals and the actual outcomes of these “benevolent” policies. The security industry, as a true defender of public safety, can be a force for genuine reform, countering the cycle of dependency, bureaucracy, and profit that has plagued places like the Northern Territory.
A security professional is not a police officer, and if skilled and effective, doesn't want to be one. Security relies on the ability to be fair, adaptable, flexible, personable, freethinking, and capable, and at times dangerous, if only as a deterrent.
At the heart of this issue lies a simple truth: policies that allow crime to persist are a betrayal of the communities they claim to protect. For too long, NGOs and bureaucrats have feasted on the funds drawn from public suffering, treating taxpayer money as an endless resource to finance their pet projects while delivering little in return. The security industry, in contrast, has one objective: to protect and serve the public.
Breaking the cycle of crime-for-profit requires that we demand real solutions and a return to accountability. Only by challenging the status quo can we hope to restore genuine safety and security to our communities. The time has come to prioritise those who work to prevent crime and protect the public over those who profit from its persistence. By doing so, the security industry can help steer the Northern Territory and other affected regions towards a future where safety and progress are not mutually exclusive. 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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