Street crime in Stockholm

purse theft in stockholm
Graffiti in Stockholm: Lucky Thief proved to be an artist collective.
Graffiti in Stockholm: Lucky Thief proved to be an artist collective.

Beware, pickpockets are working here. That’s the first thing an international visitor sees when entering Sweden at Stockholm Arlanda Airport. Face level signs are pasted on the glass doors you pass through at immigration. Show me your passport. Welcome! Oh, and watch out for pickpockets—you’re in Stockholm!

Street crime in Stockholm

For a big city, Stockholm has very little street crime. For a city with so little street crime, there sure are a lot of warnings about it. Maybe that’s why there’s so little street crime in Stockholm!

Stealing in Stockholm
Stealing in Stockholm

Digital platform signs in the city’s super-efficient subway system run frequent text warnings, in Swedish and English: watch your personal belongings, pickpockets are around.

Restaurants post reminders about watching your bags. I heard bus drivers on routes to Djurgården, where amusement parks are located, warn about pickpockets.

The Stockholm police have volunteers hand out little warning cards in the streets, and they thought it important enough to gather for a Bob Arno lecture last summer.

Is it a case of hysterics?

Street crime in Stockholm: Graph from www.bra.se
Graph from www.bra.se

Let’s not compare Stockholm with other cities. Let’s compare it with itself over time. According to the Swedish National Council for Crime Prevention, crime in general peeked in 1990, stayed rather constant for 16 years, and is now on a new rise. Specifically, bicycle theft is down and fraud is up. No surprise there. Burglary is holding steady, while assault is on the rise.

Reported robberies have remained fairly steady at about 9,000 incidents per year for the past ten. The Council includes shop and bank robberies in the figure, but says about 86% of the figure is robbery from the person. Remember, these are reported incidents. My research with Bob indicates that, as people lately tend to work hard and play hard, they also don’t sweat the small stuff. Who has time to file a police report?

Street crime in Stockholm: Police handouts, multilingual.
Police handouts, multilingual.

I’ve already written about ATM crime, skimmers, and pseudo-cops in Sweden. The latest concern is criminal gang activity. Neighborhoods “have been hit by a wave of violent thefts recently.” Children 14-17 are conducting violent robberies in what seem to be initiation rites as they join the Black Scorpions. The Black Scorpions are starter gangsters who’ll graduate to become Black Cobras. Like Cub Scouts become Boy Scouts. The gang crept in from Copenhagen, and seems to be immigration-related.

Street crime in Stockholm: Immigrants to Sweden, 1975-2008
Immigrants to Sweden, 1975-2008

The twin upward slopes of crime and immigration might lead one to believe that foreigners are perping on the Swedes. Ah, a politically sensitive theory. I can’t touch it.

Bottom line is that, for a capital city, Stockholm has very little street crime. The Swedes are rather trusting and naive and therefore make excellent victims, especially when they travel to places with significant street crime.

But speaking of Swedish victims of foreigners, here’s a vaguely related, rather humorous report. A woman in Thailand recently conned five Swedish men into sending her money “for a plane ticket to Sweden.” The five met at the airport arrivals hall when they found themselves alone together still waiting for the woman, who never showed up.

© Copyright 2008-present Bambi Vincent. All rights reserved.

The making of counterfeit fashion

counterfeit fashion
counterfeit fashion
African men traffic in counterfeit fashion.

Counterfeit fashion

If you’ve been to Europe, you’ve no doubt had to walk a wide berth around a sheetful of counterfeit handbags laid out on the street. They cause especially annoying bottlenecks in Venice, where the streets are narrow. And of course they draw crowds, furthering the nuisance. You see the African peddlers, too, grabbing up the four corners of their sheets and darting around corners to hide from police.

Bob and I have often wondered why cities can’t get rid of them; but of course, they could. We wonder why stores like Prada allow counterfeits to be sold right outside their doors. And I’ve always assumed the fakes are cheap copies from China.

Reading Gomorrah has opened my eyes. Here’s how the author, Roberto Saviano, describes the high-fashion factory business in and around Naples, Italy.

Factories are small, with about ten employees, often in cramped, poorly lit quarters. In apartments, the backs of stores, any usable space. Even stairwells and hallways. Factories employ highly skilled workers, as sewing is the specialty of the area.

Big fashion houses announce an auction of jobs to factory owners. Interested invitees show up at the time and place. A fashion house rep describes the job: the exact description of the item to be sewn and the number needed.

counterfeit fashion; No shortage of interested customers.
No shortage of interested customers.

A factory owner bids on the job by stating a price and the number of days he needs to complete the job. Other owners best the bid, to a certain extent. The winning bid does not win. Instead, all interested (and present) factory owners who’d like to participate under the winning terms, are given, without charge, enough material to complete the job. The factory that completes the job and presents a quality product, is paid. The others are not.

A factory that consistently takes material without ever making the time and quality standards is soon excluded from bidding.

The completed items made by unpaid factories are put on the market. Some get brand names slapped on them, some don’t. Some are sold as authentic, some as counterfeits, some with unknown labels. Some are sold on the streets, some go into local shops, many are exported around the world.

The fashion houses allow this. It’s the way of the industry. It goes for shoes and clothing as well as handbags.

This is all according to Saviano. I’m not finished with the book. Perhaps he’ll reveal a new twist. So far, what he’s described is all Camorra business. On the street, though, the clever Chinese get the credit. Or the blame.

For years, Bob and I have enjoyed shopping in the small boutiques of Naples. We find gorgeous clothes, especially suits, of exceptional fit and quality at ridiculous prices. The labels usually have funny names, like “Alda Mama,” and the shops are gone a year later, but others sprout up in their places. We’ve always been delighted with our purchases in Naples, but had no idea why such fine clothing was sold so cheaply. Now I think I understand why.

I remember when Bob and I first became aware of the extent of Camorra influence in and around Naples. When we innocently asked a shopkeeper about them, he raised a finger and said “Shhh. We don’t talk about the Camorra. We only whisper.”

My previous article about Gomorrah and our snooping among the Camorra crime family in Italy is here.
©copyright 2000-present. All rights reserved. Bambi Vincent

Panama Cannons: gangsters gone good, part 6 of 6

Part of the police contingent present at Bob's lectures.
Part of the police contingent present at Bob's lectures.

Panama City, Panama—Bob asked one of our Panama police escorts what serious crimes against tourists had occurred recently. The officer stunned us with a horrific story of some visitors who had rented a car and driven to a lodge in a rainforest. They were ambushed somewhere out in the countryside and robbed of everything.

One of Bob Arno's lectures in Panama: 100 of Panama's top security and tourism professionals attended, including majors and chiefs of the national police and the
 
With disgust all over his face, the officer went on: the perpetrators, it was later discovered, were police officers. They had been tipped off by someone at the airport or car rental agency.

Two days later, we saw an English-language Panama paper:

Tourism Cops Busted For Torture

…members of the Tourism Police who arrested three men who are suspected of being part of a gang that robs tourists allegedly smashed the suspects’ fingers with a hammer, beat them with golf clubs and forced their heads into bags full of pepper gas in an attempt to make them reveal what happened to the proceeds of a string of robberies. According to a report, the crime was allegedly aggravated by the cops’ motive to make the suspects reveal where the money was so that they could take it for themselves. —The Panama News

It was pitch dark in Casco Antigua. It's amazing what a good digital camera can do.
It was pitch dark in Casco Antigua. It's amazing what a good digital camera can do.

We returned to Panama half a year later and, though it was already 9 p.m., made straight for the old, dilapidated, historic section of Panama City. We walked the dark and dangerous streets with our cameras dangling and very soon approached a few people loitering on a corner to ask for Angel or Jaime, the former thieves.

The loiterers whistled over an English-speaker: amazingly, it was Angel’s mother. She and one of the men, a private security guard, walked us to a gangster hangout, and there we spoke with about a dozen young thugs, Angel’s mother translating.

Again, this was a dark night. Taken with a flash and lightened in Photoshop.
Again, this was a dark night. Taken with a flash and lightened in Photoshop.

The boys sized us up quickly and automatically, and we did the same. I looked at their smooth skin, fake-tough faces, and posturing, and couldn’t prevent wistful thoughts of their youth and potential, or lack of potential. Bob did some goofy steals on the guys. One of them brandished a cellphone and fancy money-clip full of cash, claiming he’d just lifted them. Despite all their braggadocio, the gangsters clearly wanted a little old-fashioned fun. Like the thieves we speak to the world over, they blossom when spoken to with simple respect.

Eventually, a stoned-looking Angel arrived, with bloodshot eyes, no job, no vocation, and apparently still one of the gang. We wouldn’t be surprised if he was back to thieving. Jaime, on the other hand, was working with the Department of Tourism, we were told.

The gangsters got a kick out of Bob's attention. They probably behaved themselves because of Angel's mother's deference to us.
The gangsters got a kick out of Bob's attention. They probably behaved themselves because of Angel's mother's deference to us.

A pair of cops arrived on the scene and chastised us for clowning around with these criminals. We were not allowed to be in this area at this hour. There had been a murder right here five days ago. The cops pointed us out of the neighborhood and gave us a virtual kick in the butt along with the virtual spanking. Before we left the district, Angel’s mother brought us into her friend’s house. Angel followed and asked us for a gift of cash, which we gave him.

As far as gangsters go, these don't look too threatening. But what do all their hand gestures mean?
As far as gangsters go, these don't look too threatening. But what do all their hand gestures mean?

This is part 6 of 6. —— Part 1.

See our pickpocket summary page.

Panama Cannons: gangsters gone good, part 5 of 6

Angel's mother talks to Bob while Angel and Jaime play. Notice Jaime's prop.
Angel’s mother talks to Bob while Angel and Jaime play. Notice Jaime’s prop.

Panama City, Panama—Angel lives in the school building with his mother and assorted siblings. Aha! So that’s who’d done all the neat laundry hanging inside the school gate. Bob asked Angel to fetch his mother who, to our surprise, was not only willing to speak with a camera in her face, but did so in English. She used to work in a casino, which is how she learned English.

Angel was always different from his brothers, his mother explained. Eventually he stopped going to school, stayed out late, and didn’t listen to his mother. He’s changed a lot since he’s been in this program, she said. Now he’s good, he’s home every night, goes to bed early, and gets up early.

With reluctance, Angel's mother allowed me into her home. A television blared among the mattresses in the empty bedroom.
With reluctance, Angel’s mother allowed me into her home. A television blared among the mattresses in the empty bedroom.

The audacious Bob Arno asked to see where she lives and where Angel sleeps. There’s no end to Bob’s impudence. He has no humility.

What thoughts of hope played in Angel’s mother’s mind as she led us to her “apartment?” Who are these impertinent snoops, she must have wondered, poking around here two days in a row, sometimes escorted by police chiefs, bodyguards, and interpreters? Foreign dignitaries? Potential benefactors? Deus ex machinas?

She shuffled to a wooden door and ordered Angel to get rid of the dogs yapping in front of a knee-high board. “I’m sorry. Be careful,” she said, pointing to the scrappy barrier.

I don't know who felt worse about this intrusion, Angel's mother, or I.
I don’t know who felt worse about this intrusion, Angel’s mother, or I.

“My wife will film it,” Bob said, manipulating me forward. I was mortified, ashamed by my violation of the poor woman’s privacy. But like the woman, I wasn’t given a choice, and it would have been more embarrassing to refuse. I couldn’t think how to stop on a dime after I’d been pushed down a slippery slope. I shouldered the offensive video camera and, with one eye on the viewfinder and the other watching my feet, stepped over the dogs at the door and the scrap of wood meant to keep them out of the room.

There was also a chest of drawers in the room, with all its drawers open and spilling clothes.
There was also a chest of drawers in the room, with all its drawers open and spilling clothes.

Angel’s mom showed me around, pointing out her possessions. She kept a running dialog, but I heard none of it, due to a blaring television, yapping dogs, and my extreme discomfort with this assignment.

Handicapped, double-jointed, or injured? ? A dog in Casco Antigua.
Handicapped, double-jointed, or injured? A dog in Casco Antigua.

This is part 5 of 6. —— Next. —— Part 1.

Panama Cannons: gangsters gone good, part 4 of 6

Properties in San Filipe, a World Heritage Site, are being purchased and restored by foreigners.
Properties in San Filipe, a World Heritage Site, are being purchased and restored by foreigners.

Panama City, Panama—Bob and I had come to Panama as guests of the national and local police departments and the Panama National Hotel Association. The Central American country aspires to a boom in tourism and recognizes the need to curb street crime in its cities, tourist areas, and especially San Filipe, aka Casco Antigua, Panama City’s old town and a World Heritage Site.

Panama Policia Nacional
Panama Policia Nacional

Bringing in Bob Arno as a consultant to the tourism industry and trainer for police departments and security divisions was a major organizational feat involving numerous government agencies.

Panama Policia Nacional
Panama Policia Nacional

(The coup is entirely credited to the gentle, eloquent, and now retired Carlos Sanad of the Office of the Attorney General in Panama.) Bob and I were treated like dignitaries during our stay in Panama, hosted at the country’s newest, grandest resorts, provided with several translators, and always shadowed by bodyguards. We were transported in police vans but, in order to conduct our simultaneous research, often felt the necessity of ditching the navy-suited men talking into their wrists.

Guests of the government require ever-present bodyguards.
Guests of the government require ever-present bodyguards.

When we interviewed Angel and his pal Jaime, we left all badge-bearers outside. What would the gangsters tell us with police present? Perhaps that is why they felt free to demonstrate their pickpocketing techniques and speak of their criminal exploits. That, and Bob’s easy, simpatico demeanor. They showed their choreography with pride.

Jaime shows Bob how he extracts a wallet.
Jaime shows Bob how he extracts a wallet.

Bob was unimpressed with the boys’ talent. I was a bit more forgiving: presumably, they were rusty, being officially out of the business. Not to mention under great pressure with an audience of two foreign “filmmakers,” and cameras rolling.

Angel and Jaime claimed they didn’t exploit the credit cards they got in wallets, though they occasionally sold them to a fence. They received so little money for credit cards that they usually just threw them away. They wanted cash; the wallets they took usually contained $40-100, sometimes as much as $200. (Panama uses U.S. currency.)

Jaime listened intently and answered intelligently.
Jaime listened intently and answered intelligently.

Now that they’re out of the business, the boys miss the healthy takings they used to enjoy. They find it difficult to live on their legitimate incomes of two to three dollars a day, which they get from the government.

This is part 4 of 6. —— Next.  ——  Part 1

Panama Cannons: gangsters gone good, part 3 of 6

Jaime, left, is bright and engaging, with the magnetic personality and intense eyes that Angel lacks.
Bob interviews Angel amid the ruins of an unused schoolyard.
Bob interviews Angel amid the ruins of an unused schoolyard.

Panama City, Panama—As Bob and Angel spoke, a tall, handsome boy appeared dribbling a basketball. Soon he was part of our interview. His name was Jaime. He and Angel grew up together, were gangsters and pickpockets together, and were now together in the rehabilitation program.

As pickpockets, Angel and Jaime worked on buses as people got on and off them, at sports events, and at rock concerts.

Jaime, left, is bright and engaging, with the magnetic personality and intense eyes that Angel lacks.
Jaime, left, is bright and engaging, with the magnetic personality and intense eyes that Angel lacks.

Jaime took a crisp, clean Manila folder from under his arm, which he had brought along specifically to demonstrate how he used it—or something—to shield his handiwork. I was impressed that he had thought to bring a prop. Bob now addressed his questions to Jaime, whose alert demeanor was a welcome improvement over Angel’s empty, shifty eyes. Jaime was engaging, eager to answer, intelligent.

Jaime and Angel demonstrate their classic drop-stall-bump-steal method.
Jaime and Angel demonstrate their classic drop-stall-bump-steal method.

Their best method was the classic “sandwich,” in which one of them would drop keys or coins in front of a mark while the other nabbed his wallet from behind. They demonstrated using Bob as the victim. Then Jaime showed a close-up of his extraction technique. He gripped just a corner of the wallet and sort of zigzagged it up and out of the pocket. He smiled brightly, and I thought he’d make an excellent tour guide some day. Angel, if he’s lucky, might be suitable as a fry cook, or maybe a bell boy.

Buses in Panama are privately owned and serious works of art.
Buses in Panama are privately owned and serious works of art.

This is part 3 of 6. ——    Next. ——  Part 1

Panama Cannons: gangsters gone good, part 2 of 6

Ripe mangos inside the dilapidated schoolyard.
Ripe mangos inside the dilapidated schoolyard.

Panama City, Panama—Too much laundry was hung too neatly on a wire line stretched across the broken schoolyard. This boy can’t be that industrious, I thought. There was cooked rice in a dog food bowl under a mango tree, and I heard a tv. Several tattooed toughs gave us a sideways glance. Were they former gangsters, too, or… gangsters? With a pole and bent hanger, they were trying to snag a mango from the tree in the center of the schoolyard.

Angel observes nervously as Bob readies his cameras.
Angel observes nervously as Bob readies his cameras.

  
Angel kicked dust while Bob and I set up equipment among the ruins of the school. Countless skinny, mangy dogs wandered past. Angel had agreed to be interviewed on camera, but we were concerned that he’d have second thoughts. We tried to set up quickly. To use as a sofa, Bob dragged over the wooden frame of something long disintegrated. I sat down in the dusty earth and balanced a video camera on my knee.

Angel’s account of the pickpocket business was not too different from others of his plebeian level around the world. Basically, he practiced subsistence stealing, but his gang involvement added a vicious element. All Panamanian gang members carry guns, purportedly to protect themselves, despite the fact that if they get caught carrying a gun, they automatically get several years in prison. Regardless, they carry 9mm guns.

Eventually, Angel loosened up.
Eventually, Angel loosened up.

Angel lit a cigarette and showed us a recent bullet wound on his hand. He was shot by a rival gangster who didn’t know or believe that Angel had given up gang membership. He said it’s dangerous to live in this gangland without belonging, but admitted that it was equally dangerous to belong. He was covered with gang tats.


  

This is part 2 of 6. —— Next.  ——  Part 1

Panama Cannons: gangsters gone good

Angel was a gangster and pickpocket in Panama City who now claims to be former on both counts.
Angel was a gangster and pickpocket in Panama City who now claims to be former on both counts.

Panama City, Panama—Angel Sanchez is trying to stay clean. Neither crack nor speed produces the high he craves. At 23, Angel is trying to give up pickpocketing. A drug high is nothing, he says, compared to the rush of walking away with someone else’s money.

Angel’s pickpocketing is not the biggest concern of the Panama police, yet they invented a scheme to put him out of business. The program that attempts to rehabilitate local gang members provides vocational training as tour leaders. Gangsters are not invited into the program. They must seek it out and apply for admission. Gang leaders trained to be tour leaders!

Get rid of the gangsters and you get rid of crime.

San Filipe is a World Heritage Site. It's worse than run down, but restoration has begun.
San Filipe is a World Heritage Site. It's worse than run down, but restoration has begun.

Angel’s neighborhood, San Filipe, is gangland central. Residents loiter in drugged-out stupors, eyeing the few tourists that are starting to trickle in. The district is marketed as Casco Antigua, Panama City’s old town. Imagine trailing after a tour leader who holds aloft a 9mm gun instead of a yellow umbrella. (“…and on this corner, my three amigos killed a rival…”) That could be San Filipe in a year or so. Just be sure to follow the raised arm with the right tattoos.

Angel in front of the school with Bob and our interpreter.
Angel in front of the school with Bob and our interpreter.

Angel didn’t speak as he led us to the unused, dilapidated school he lived in as caretaker. Pulling out his important key ring, he unlocked the tall iron gate. His face was tight and he looked at the ground. Bob and I had a significant haul of still and video cameras with us. Hefting our bags, we slipped into the thieves’ den and let the iron gate slam shut, locking us in.

This is part 1 of 6. —— Next.