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Weather prediction is an imperfect science - photo by Don Amaro from Madeira Islands, Portugal (upload by Herrick) CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons |
by Gregory Saville
It was the summer of 1980. I was 24, a geography undergrad and junior member of a climate study team on a government contract, coding weather forecasts from old newspapers onto computer punch cards (you read that right – punch cards). Our research team was digging into two decades of Toronto forecasts. It was tedious work.
What we discovered about weather prediction wasn’t what the Canadian weather service wanted to hear. When our study was published, it caused quite the kafuffle.
Despite the rise of supercomputers and early weather models, short-term public forecasts—especially temperature—had not improved. In some seasons, they had gotten worse. The data showed it. And the implications were unsettling: more technology didn’t always mean more insight.
Years later, I saw that same blind spot in a different field: crime forecasting.
Today, predictive analytics dominate whole branches of criminology: heat maps, risk scores, and spatial data promise precision. Reviews of crime prediction programs abound.
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Professor Robert Murdie (York University, Toronto), earned his PhD at University of Chicago, in social ecology. He led groundbreaking studies on gentrification, refugee social housing, and spatial dynamics in Toronto. In 1984 he coauthored with me one of the first Canadian studies to apply spatial analysis to motor vehicle theft and crime hotspots - photo by Phillip Kelly |
PROFESSOR ROBERT MURDIE
I learned about this work firsthand. In 1984, I conducted an early geographic crime analysis study that mapped auto theft in Peel Region. My coauthor, Professor Robert Murdie—a University of Chicago trained social ecologist—suggested using statistical mapping and something called positive regression residuals. We identified spatial patterns that pointed to where professional auto thieves or gangs might strike next.
A few years later, the Minneapolis hotspots experiment suggested some of those same things, eventually inspiring a generation of hotspot policing methods.
To me, this all traced back to that early weather prediction research. At the time, predictive modeling felt promising in crime analysis. But we had already learned something that complicated the narrative.
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Weather convection pattens - photo David Roth via Wikimedia Commons |
Weather forecasting might appear chaotic and imprecise—especially compared to the confident claims in predictive policing. But it would be wrong to suggest it stood still. Since the 1980s, forecasting has made remarkable progress. Today, a 3-day forecast is as accurate as a 1-day forecast was 40 years ago. And 5- to 7-day forecasts, once nearly useless, now have real reliability.
But in 1980, we were operating before Edward Lorenz and others brought the math of chaos and dynamical systems into mainstream science. That shift—which came in the years after our study—provided the conceptual tools to understand why nonlinear systems like weather, and crime, resist precision.
Many advances in crime forecasting came from colleagues I admire. Their commitment to evidence-based solutions isn’t in question.
But I keep returning to that weather study. Because there exists an uncomfortable truth: complex systems resist prediction. Whether forecasting tomorrow’s rainfall or next month’s burglary rate, the deeper you go, the more variables emerge: Social + contextual = unpredictable!
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Hypothetical sample of crime prediction hotspot map |
PREDICTING THE FUTURE
Like those early meteorological models, today’s crime systems often give the illusion of certainty without the annoyance of nuance. Even weather forecasters today embrace probabilities and uncertainty bands. But some criminologists still chase linear certainties in non-linear worlds.
During my master’s defense, I described this spatial analysis of auto theft. My supervisor asked about the predictive power of our model. I said, “If we had all the relevant variables… if our R² climbed to 0.95 and our prediction was more precise—that would be a dream.”
My supervisor looked up and said:
“No… that would be a nightmare.”
He added, “Where would all that data come from? And what would we do with a prediction that accurate?”
At the time, it seemed like a preposterous question. But when I thought more carefully, I realized I didn’t have an answer. I’m not sure anyone did.
But now—amid AI, social sensing, and automated crime forecasts—we’re finally being forced to answer. And the question isn’t technical anymore. It’s ethical. It’s about the kind of society we want to build– the same paradox that triggered my fictional blog last month, The Pattern Room.
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American Society of Criminology article in the journal Criminology - Each year, more studies emerge evaluating crime prediction |
HOW DOES SAFEGROWTH RESPOND?
SafeGrowth didn’t emerge as a rejection of prediction—but as a rebalancing. It asks different questions. While statistical tools estimate risk, SafeGrowth asks: Who defines risk? And who responds to it?
It treats crime not as a spatial constant to be mapped, but as a symptom—shaped by design, social ecology, and everyday experience. It doesn’t discard predictive tools. It grounds them. It recognizes that no algorithm—however calibrated—can replace local knowledge, trust, or the slow work of place stewardship.
Where predictive systems offer patterns, SafeGrowth invites relationships. Where algorithms flag where something might happen, local networks act to ensure it doesn’t.
It’s not either/or. It’s alignment: Can we design systems that serve the neighborhood, rather than just study it? It’s been four decades since that weather study. The punch cards are gone. Forecasts now come from satellites and superclusters.
Sometimes, real understanding of crime risks comes from walking and listening |
And still, I think about those numbers—the ones that told us more power didn’t always mean more insight. As crime prediction tools grow more sophisticated, I wonder: have we remembered that?
Do we still hear the difference between precision and relevance—between what the model predicts and what the community needs? Because in the end, forecasting is only as valuable as what it allows us to change.
And real, lasting change doesn’t come from computation alone.
Sometimes it comes from walking the block or from listening. And sometimes… it starts with a stack of old newspapers and the realization that the model doesn’t know everything.