By Kenneth S. Alyass
Last year, in Detroit, Michigan, something unprecedented happened: the number of homicides fell to the lowest number recorded since 1969. At thirty two homicides per 100,000 residents, the decline was a major victory for a city that once had sixty four homicides per 100,000 residents, for which commentators gave Detroit the moniker of “Murder City.” Earlier this year, Mayor Mike Duggan, interim police Chief Todd Bettison, and former U.S. Attorney Dawn Ison came together to announce the historic triumph. In 2024, Detroit registered 203 homicides—down from 252 in 2023 and 309 the year before that. Moreover, according to the Detroit Police Department, non-fatal shootings fell by more than 24%—a monumental achievement for a city long plagued by one of the worst local gun violence epidemics in the United States.
Mayor Duggan told reporters that the spike in violent crime Detroit experienced during the pandemic “is now receding in . . . line with most cities in America” and that the city was “seeing something extraordinary.” Chief Bettison added that the “progress is occurring” because of a coalition of “city, county, state, federal and community partners” that resulted in the hiring of hundreds of new police officers, greater collaboration between police agencies, and the enlistment of thousands of Detroiters in neighborhood-focused, crime-deterrence efforts known as Community Violence Interruption (CVI). In fact, from the evidence marshaled by the city, it appeared the Detroit community groups’ actions produced immense success, leading to a 45% decline in homicides in the neighborhoods in which they operated versus an 18% decline elsewhere.
Ultimately, mass criminalization, policing, and incarceration have failed to reduce rates of violence—especially gun violence—in the United States. Through the countless dollars it has spent on punitive responses, the United States has eroded the personal liberties it purports to protect and has immiserated both urban and rural communities alike. Instead, to fully address our twin epidemics of over-incarceration and rampant gun violence, we must turn to community-building alternatives—like CVI.
In recent years, other cities have reported similar successes with implementing CVI approaches to violence and crime. Chicago Cred (Create Real Economic Destiny), for example, saw rates of recidivism drop by 73% for individuals who participated in the program. And one study of Baltimore’s Safe Streets program—a CVI initiative founded in part by a convicted drug dealer—reported that the program’s efforts produced a 10% average decline in homicides and 23% average decline in non-fatal shootings between 2007 and 2022. As American cities grapple with rising rates of gun violence, many officials are turning their attention—and municipal dollars—toward community-oriented violence reduction programs that have unexpectedly generated success.
Researchers and practitioners have defined “community violence” as “deliberate acts of physical harm that occur among non-intimately related persons.” In addition to categorizing these acts as crimes, a community violence approach views them as part of a matrix of harm and trauma brought on by the social and economic conditions of a particular area. This framing demands that we see violent acts and the people who commit them as more than just lawbreaking and lawbreakers but the product of a cycle of violence resulting from numerous factors, including unstable housing, a lack of job opportunities, and more. Fundamentally, this framing is about viewing urban violence, especially in low-income communities, as not just a criminal justice problem but a public health problem.
For decades, many experts have treated urban violence as a public health issue. For example, in the 1980s, medical researchers noticed patterns of repeated injury in patients with gunshot wounds. One study in Detroit found that, in the city’s trauma centers, recurrent injury rates from gunshot wounds reached nearly 50%. Calling it “urban trauma,” the researchers treated these injuries like a chronic disease. They found that people who experienced injuries from violence faced a litany of other health, social, and legal challenges: for example, 76% were unemployed, 62% had substance abuse disorders, and 41% were involved in crime. Urban trauma, they wrote, had until that point been presumed to be “an acute episodic event;” however, their study revealed the trauma to be “a chronic recurrent disease related to the lifestyle, environment, and other factors of its victims.” The recurrent aspect of the disease also caused problems for the larger community. For example, another Detroit-based study found that 80% of the people treated for these violence-related injuries lacked health insurance or could not access healthcare through government assistance.
Although the link between poverty and criminality in the United States has long been recognized, only in the past decade has the nation begun seriously investing in non-punitive, community-based approaches to crime deterrence. Under the Biden Administration, CVI received newfound investment from the federal government. For example, the Bipartisan Safer Communities Act of 2022invested a quarter of a billion dollars over five years for CVI programs around the country, and before that, some cities—including Detroit—experimented with CVI by using funding from the American Rescue Plan Act of 2021.
In 2023, Detroit gave five CVI groups millions of dollars in grants—a public-private partnership it termed “ShotStoppers.” The city’s goal was to reduce the level of gun violence in each of the selected neighborhoods where the CVI groups would operate. Rather than instruct or guide each organization, the terms of the grant provided maximum autonomy for each entity to formulate its own strategy of curbing gun violence. CVI groups’ strategies ranged from conflict mediation and connecting at-risk individuals with social services to organizing town halls and setting up citizen patrols. For example, Detroit Friends and Family organized meetings between rival gang members; Detroit Peoples Community taught conflict resolution at local elementary schools; and New Era set up resource fairs outside of gas stations and liquor stores.
One of the Detroiters involved in implementing CVI is Dujuan “Zoe” Kennedy: a formerly-incarcerated community activist and the newest Executive Director of FORCE Detroit. Zoe, a Detroit native, spent nearly fifteen years in prison for a drug-related manslaughter conviction. He spent his time behind bars reading, learning from older mentors, and participating in cognitive behavior therapy. He remembered the atmosphere he grew up in, an environment that desensitized him and his friends to violence. “My fear of being a victim,” he recalled, “made me attack first or always show aggression.” Still, Zoe was one of the luckier ones—he had thirteen names tattooed on his body to remember the people he has lost. “Rest in peace tattoos of my friends,” he remarked.
Other community activists, like Negus Vu—President of The People’s Action—shared similar experiences with violence. Vu recalledgrowing up in a “gang neighborhood,” where he heard gunshots nearly every night. “I definitely was surrounded by violence,” and as a result, “became desensitized to it because it was an everyday thing.” Vu and Zoe were among a handful of activists who sought non-criminal responses to the gun violence epidemic in Detroit. ShotSpotter and Project Greenlight, they contended, were good experiments, but they argued that the city should not stop at experimenting with surveillance technology. Instead, Detroit should also invest resources into CVI. As Vu explained, “We don’t want [the cops] just jumping out if there’s a shot detection and you’re frisking and you’re harassing people” in the area.
But today, CVI’s “future hangs in the balance, jeopardized by political inaction and shifting legislative priorities.” For example, in 2025, a bill that would have provided permanent funding for these programs failed to pass in the Michigan legislature. At the same time, President Trump and the Republican-controlled Congress appear on track to cut funding for these and similar programs. So, many of the Detroit activists lament what they see as a probable return to out-of-control violence the city saw during the COVID-19 pandemic.
As gun violence remains rampant in the United States, it is imperative to learn from successful responses—like that of ShotStoppers in Detroit—which interrupt community violence without contributing to mass incarceration, policing, and incarceration. As one deputy police chief in Detroit said, “We . . . cannot arrest our way out of crime.” Instead, we must continue developing and investing in these programs, which present one of the best and most affordable options for American cities to prevent violence and crime before it ever takes place.
Kenneth S. Alyass is a current law student at the University of Michigan Law School. He graduated from Harvard University in 2025 with a PhD in American History.