Abstract
Reflecting on Loader and White’s (2018) suggestion that the labour of private security workers is difficult to ‘commodify’, this paper uses original empirical data to show that there are four elements to what private security workers ‘do’ for victims of domestic violence when contracted by domestic violence advocacy services: they provide (a) practical ‘target-hardening’ measures, (b) ‘expert’ advice on security, (c) forms of ‘security therapy’ as workers talk clients through their safety-based anxieties and (d) forms of ‘security theatre’ as workers provide the appearance of providing security despite the efficacy often being unclear or uncertain. Each of these elements have significant risks that can threaten the interests of victims and domestic violence services.
Introduction
Private security companies are increasingly providing services to victims of domestic violence, with Australia being the strongest ‘early adopter’ of this form of security provision (see Harkin, 2019; Harkin, 2020; Harkin & Fitz-Gibbon, 2017). In particular, Australia is uniquely experimenting with the idea of sending private security workers into the homes of victims of domestic violence for the purposes of conducting ‘security audits’ and providing ‘security upgrades’. As a prime example of this process, the Salvation Army’s Safer in the Home program funded 670 women across Australia to have a visit from a private security worker in 2017 (Safer in the Home Newsletter February, 2018). The Safer in the Home program, like many others of its kind, commissions a private security worker to attend the home of a client with the goal of supporting the client in matters of safety and security. It usually involves a one-on-one discussion with the client about their personal security fears, an ‘audit’ of the property to check for vulnerabilities, and then recommendations of particular security tactics or the deployment of security ‘upgrades’ such as new locks or introducing technological aides. All fees are carried by the domestic violence service.
Using private security companies in this context raises a number of normative questions around the suitability of commercial security providers having privileged access to a vulnerable population (see Harkin, 2019; Harkin, 2020; Harkin & Fitz-Gibbon, 2017). It also raises some interesting conceptual questions regarding what is the ‘commodity’ that is purchased by domestic violence services when they contract a security company. ‘Security’ is an elusive item to purchase, and as suggested by Loader and White (2018, p. 1401), ‘it is extremely difficult to transform the labour of private security officers into discrete vendible commodities’. They regard the labour of private security workers as a prime example of a ‘contested commodity’ (ibid, pp. 1403–1406), whereby it is unclear what is purchased when consumers acquire security goods. Purchasing ‘security’ is not a straight forward process and there are competing social meanings, ambiguities and uncertainties, created by the ‘buyers and sellers’ ‘project(ing) moral values’ onto the services of private security workers.
Reflecting on this notion that the labour of private security workers is a ‘contested commodity’, this paper seeks to outline what exactly private security workers ‘do’ for domestic violence victims. Depicting the key elements of the security work performed by private security workers when interacting with victims of domestic violence will describe the commodity purchased by the relevant domestic violence service. It will be shown that private security workers perform four type of functions when they interact with victims of domestic violence in their home: (1) they provide practical ‘target-hardening’ measures such as new locks, CCTV, personal duress alarms and other crime prevention interventions (Mayhew, 1984); (2) They can provide ‘expert’ advice on security and criminal justice matters that helps victims understand threats and develop strategies to keep them safe; (3) They also provide more ‘emotional’ or ‘psychological’ forms of support. Talking with clients of domestic violence services about their security needs appears to have its own effects. This process is labelled here as ‘security therapy’; (4) Security workers also perform a range of tasks such as ‘debugging’ services that purport to clear the area of malicious surveillance devices. The efficacy of such measures are unclear and uncertain, but nonetheless have impacts on victims. These types of activities are regarded here as a form of ‘security theatre’ – a ritual or performance of uncertain effectiveness, but which has a symbolic value or impact (see Schneier 2003).
It will be shown that each of these functions have potentially positive implications for the well-being of victims of domestic violence, but that they also carry concerning risks and damaging potentials. For instance, ‘target-hardening’ measures such as installing CCTV may produce ‘hyper-vigilance’ amongst some individuals, and forms of ‘security theatre’ can produce a false sense of security. This demonstrates that none of these functions from private security companies are an unqualified good, further highlighting the difficulty of converting security into a ‘discrete vendible commodity’ (Loader & White, 2018). Likewise, as valuable funding resources are being expended on private security services, it is also worth considering whether private security commodities are ‘value for money’ for domestic violence services. While final funding decisions are a matter for individual domestic violence services or government authorities, thinking about the nature of the ‘commodity’ purchased when using security companies helps frame the answer of whether they are ‘value for money’ and highlights the risks inherent within this experimental model of security provision.
To unpack these arguments, this paper will proceed over four sections. First, more background will be provided of the emergence of private security companies working with victims of family violence. Second, details will be provided outlining that the data in this paper comes from speaking with a number of sources including private security workers who work in this area, domestic violence services who use security companies, 15 victims of domestic violence who have received such services and a number of other key stakeholders. Third, the four types of functions provided by security companies in this context will be outlined and detailed. Fourth, the implications of the ‘commodity’ provided by private security companies in this context will be discussed and the practical implications for potential consumers of security services will be unpacked.
Private security companies and domestic violence: An overview
There is a history of private security companies operating in the context of domestic violence (see Prenzler and Fardell 2016). As detailed by Prenzler and Fardell (2016) there is ample international experience of security companies developing alarms, APPs, or GPS trackers to be used in the context of domestic violence. ‘The Merseyside Project’ experimented with alarms in the 1990s, and many U.S and Canadian cities used products from the security firm ADT (ibid). Swedish police have also deployed alarms to victims (MacKay, 2011, p. 5) and a security company called ‘VitalCall’ provided personal duress alarms for the ‘BSafe’ program in Australia from 2007 to 2011.
More recently in Australia there have been a number of programs that have deployed technology provided by security companies with clients of domestic violence support services. This has included the Women’s Safety Package – Technology Trials in Queensland that deployed personal duress alarms in Ipswich, Rockhampton, Caboolture and Cairns with security firm Smartrak (Women’s Safety Package, 2018; see also Gendera et al., 2019). Likewise, in New South Wales the ‘Staying Home Leaving Violence’ program utilised the services of a private security company called Central Monitoring Services (CMS) (see NSW Government 2021). International security technology company 3M has provided victims of domestic violence with an alert unit to inform them when GPS-tagged offenders are within their proximity in Spain, Portugal and Uruguay (3M, 2016). Similar GPS trials have been attempted in New South Wales (Women’s Safety Package – Technology Trials New South Wales, 2017).
However, recently, a new phenomenon has emerged: security companies being contracted to visit the homes of victims of domestic violence and provide direct, wide-ranging support. The Salvation Army’s Safer in the Home program is perhaps the most prominent example of this tactic, but there are other notable examples within Australia. In particular, the Victorian Personal Safety Initiative (PSI) aims to provide victims of domestic violence with a ‘safety and security audit completed by a suitably qualified security provider’ (Family Safety Victoria, 2018, p. 4). The PSI is based on a 2016 pilot conducted by the Safe Futures Foundation who provided safety audits and ‘safety upgrades’ for their clients using the private security firm, IPP (Safe Futures Foundation, 2017). Victorian domestic violence services have also been contracting security companies using money from the state’s ‘Flexible Support Package’ scheme with approximately $13.2 million going to ‘safety and security’ services in 2016–17 (Family Safety Victoria, 2017). While Victoria is the most active state in using private security companies in this manner, services in Queensland have also reported using this tactic and the Safer in the Home program has a national footprint. The tactic of sending private security workers to the homes of clients is thus an increasingly familiar one in the domestic violence advocacy sector of Australia.
Methods
To develop an insight into how domestic violence services utilise private security companies and what these companies ultimately ‘do’ for victims, this research spoke with over ninety key stakeholders between November 2015 and March 2019. Crucially, this also included speaking with fifteen victims of domestic violence who participated in the Safer in the Home program. This research also consulted with fifteen different domestic violence services from across Australia who work with private security companies, three peak advocacy bodies and a number of representatives from state and commonwealth government agencies, including a small number of representatives from two police organisations. The goal of the research was to enquire about the performance of private security companies who work with victims of domestic violence and discuss the various aspects of their interactions with victims. Eight private security companies also participated in this research, detailing their approach to engaging with this unique client base.
There has been no other empirical investigation of private security companies providing home visit services to victims of domestic violence in Australia or elsewhere. Prenzler and Fardell (2016) outline international experience with security companies providing technology as part of broader programs, or providing security for domestic violence shelters, but did not study the unique new services described here. Therefore, the primary approach of this research was ‘exploratory’ (Bryman, 2008) and aiming to unpack this unique and under-explored phenomenon. The goal was to probe the role of the private security company, what role they were playing, what services did they provide for victims and whether this produced any particular benefits or harms for the clients. Focusing on unique and experimental service models can ‘yield significant theoretical gains’ (Rueschemeyer, 2003, p. 332), thus this study unpacked the roles that security companies played in these circumstances and documented the positive and negative ramifications for victims.
For the purposes of this paper the most important contributors to this research were the fifteen clients of the Safer in the Home program. They had the closest insight to the performance of the private security companies and first-hand personal experience of whether their interventions improved their safety or security. Involving victims of domestic violence within research however, demands a heightened level of care and ethical sensitivity. There are a number of ethical considerations to account for when dealing with victims of domestic violence, including reflecting on the fact that this group is often over-researched, many individuals may not want to participate, certain individuals may not be in a position to provide consent and the research process itself can cause distress or significant discomfort (Aronson Fontes, 2010; Ellsberg & Heise, 2002; Jacobson, 1994). A number of precautionary steps were taken, therefore, to account for these ethical sensitivities. For instance, it was decided in conjunction with the Salvation Army that they would act as a gate-keeper to the participants and identify suitable candidates for the research. While it may be ideal to deploy a ‘random sampling’ strategy that ensures that each participant of the Safer in the Home program has an equal chance of being selected – thus reducing bias (Gravetter & Forzano, 2011, p. 146) – in practice there are many clients of the Safer in the Home program who would be inappropriate for the research due to their trauma or recent abuse. Fifteen individuals consented to the project and were contacted for interview. It should be noted that the access to the clients of the Safer in the Home program was negotiated in the context of a research agreement with the Salvation Army who funded a research report on their program.
Interview inquiries focused on their views on the performance of the private security company who visited their home, conducted a ‘security audit’ and provided ‘security upgrades’. Interviews with victims were conducted over the phone and lasted approximately 20 min each. Participants were asked questions such as ‘Were you satisfied with the service provided by the private security company that visited your home?’, ‘Can you describe what the person did when they were in your home?’, ‘Did you make any particular requests of the private security worker who visited your home?’ and ‘Did the visit of a private security worker improve your feelings of safety and security?’ The interviews with the clients of the Safer in the Home program were vital to understanding the multi-faceted experiences and necessary nuance of the services provided by security companies.
The interview data with the 15 victims was supplemented by the broader set of interviews with support workers within the Salvation Army who had direct supervision over clients within the program and also the private security company who provided the services. Moreover, whilst this research did not speak directly with any other victims who received services from private security companies, it did speak to professional support workers from fourteen other organisations within the family and domestic violence advocacy sector who monitored and managed clients or programs that used security companies. Eight security companies were also interviewed and asked to describe their own work and the services they provided for victims of domestic violence.
Results
Speaking with a range of stakeholders who have insight into the work of private security companies as they engage with victims of domestic violence, it was suggested that in most circumstances security companies had helped raise the safety and security of victims. The 15 clients of the Safer in the Home program, for instance, who spoke with this research, were unanimous in their positive appraisal of the relevant security company. However, similarly, there were multiple examples raised of security companies behaving inappropriately, incompetently and unethically (see also Prenzler & Sarre 2008). Likewise, in some circumstances, security companies (or their suggested safety strategies) had aggravated or exacerbated the trauma experienced by victims of abuse (see also Harkin 2020). As outlined earlier, this points to the fraught nature of attempting to purchase ‘security’: it is not a straight-forward commercial transaction and carries inherent uncertainties and risks of new or additional insecurities. As described by the clients and the wider group of stakeholders there were four key aspects to what private security companies could ‘do’ for victims of domestic violence. As will be outlined in this section, these four aspects constitute the commodity that is purchased, while also illustrating the risks inherent in this method of security provision.
Security companies provide ‘target-hardening’ support
As described by one private security company, their goal is to ‘wrap a safety net’ around the client (Private security worker). They do this by providing a wide range of interventions including changing locks on doors, securing windows, installing sensor lights and fixing potential security weaknesses around someone’s home including mending broken fences or reprogramming garage doors. Furthermore, security companies often recommend the use of technological solutions. This can include the use of home CCTV systems, intruder alarms and also deploying the use of personal duress alarms. The last is increasingly common in the world of domestic violence with several contemporary examples of devices being provided to clients whereby an individual is able to trigger an alarm in an emergency situation. Such technology is used by many domestic violence services across Australia but also found in the Personal Safety Initiative (Victoria), the Women’s Safety Package – Technology Trials in Queensland (Women’s Safety Package, 2018) and the NSW Staying Home Leaving Violence program (Family and Community Services, 2014, p. 4).
In criminological parlance, these interventions represent an attempt at ‘target-hardening’ (Mayhew, 1984). They aim to make the dwellings of victims of domestic violence a more ‘defensible space’ (ibid, p. 29), and in line with the ‘routine activity theory’ of crime, they also attempt to provide forms of ‘capable guardians’ by using technology such as monitoring station-linked duress alarms and CCTV recordings (Cohen & Felson, 1979, p. 589). Attempts to ‘target-harden’ or ‘wrap a safety net’ around a client, has been generally regarded as a positive by both clients and those who have an overview of the performance of the security workers. As described by multiple clients of the Safer in the Home program the ‘security upgrades’ around their home for instance, has been regarded as providing an improved sense of confidence in the safety of their dwelling: I just feel safer in the home being, you know, a single mum and everything like that. All the doors are now locked and secure, the security screens, no one can get in the home. My ex he’s not allowed within 100 metres of the home anyway. Even if he happened to turn up, I don’t believe that he’d be able to get in the house.
A number of clients identified that changing the ‘locks’ and measures of that kind had made significant impacts on their well-being, with several referencing improved sleep as an example of the benefits: I stopped waking up in the middle of the night suddenly in fear. That’s the thing I noticed straight away. Before the locks were changed, I used to have really interrupted sleep and I’d wake up in terror, and that changed immediately. That stopped happening. It didn’t happen again.
The question of whether such ‘target-hardening’ measures actually reduce risks of further abuse is unclear, and this research was incapable of assessing whether any clients were actually safer in real-terms because of the interventions of security companies. From the perspective of many domestic violence advocacy workers, ‘target-hardening’ measures were generally viewed as effective. For instance, one measure of success might be a reduction in breaches of intervention orders. Such a reduction was notable during a Victorian pilot using a ‘SafeT Card’ provided by a private security company (according to a representative from the Safe Futures Foundation, see RCFV, 2016, p. 449). Such results have been found elsewhere when other personal duress alarms have been deployed. The ‘BSafe’ program in Victoria also used an alarm device that was argued to have played a role in reducing breaches (Mackay, 2011). Overall, however, as suggested by Prenzler and Fardell (2016, pp. 7–8), stronger and better evidence is required to robustly validate many of the claims regarding private security-provided technical solutions in this context.
Whether or not ‘target-hardening’ approaches create actual reductions in abuse, many who work in the domestic violence advocacy sector strongly believe that it does. For instance, the following representative of a domestic violence service see’s the work of private security companies ‘fortifying’ someone’s home as critical to supporting extremely vulnerable clients. In the following example, this particular client had to move home ‘seven times in six months’ with her two children because of violence, but the private security interventions helped them finally settle in one property: So we had a safety audit done of the property she was living in. We’ve actually been able to secure that property for her for long term. So it’s a bit of a Fort Knox. But I just saw that family yesterday, and I just thought, this is an incredible outcome for this woman and children. The little boy was speech delayed; there was developmental delay in his behaviour. And now that they are settled, they’re feeling safe in their home. He has just had so many gains. It’s been amazing. And for her, she’s actually thinking about returning to study and work because we’ve been able to stabilise her in the housing. But with the security installed, she’s feeling much more safer [sic] in her home.
Similarly, the use of CCTV and personal duress alarms has been evaluated positively by advocates and other stakeholders for their positive security impacts on clients. CCTV has been particularly regarded as beneficial. For instance, one police representative suggested that footage provided by private security helped them secure at least ‘five or six’ prosecutions of offenders (representative of a police organisation). Speaking with multiple domestic violence services their impressions were generally that if the quality of the footage was good enough, CCTV was a tactic that could support their clients. For example, in the following instance, a domestic violence service worker describes how the CCTV provided by a private security company helped secure charges against perpetrators: [We have] the ability now that we put internet connected to the cameras. So he’s able to – so if there’s a breach we would get a request for retrieval. … Then what we do is we contact the security company. They can be looking at that footage straightaway. So if there’s a breach we can use that evidence and that can go directly to police. They can have him charged. They have the evidence straightaway. So there’s no delay. Has that played out? Yeah. We’ve had to do that. Yeah.
While many domestic violence services gave the general assessment that CCTV was practically beneficial for reducing or addressing active threat, it was also raised that for a subset of clients, the introduction of CCTV was counter-productive. In particular, the capacity to monitor their own homes via an app or monitor could encourage certain individuals to excessively watch for threats and dangers: Some women aren’t comfortable having CCTV, because there’s a monitor there. And these women are hyper-vigilant anyway, so by concentrating on a screen that’s set up in their kitchen is just creating more anxiousness for her and her children, staring at that screen. So we have to be very careful around what’s appropriate and what she can manage as well.
CCTV could inadvertently trigger hyper-vigilance which perhaps enflames anxiety rather than addressing it for some. As suggested by one representative of a domestic violence service, they have noted that some clients develop unhealthy patterns of behaviour of checking the livestream too much but that this is generally only limited to ‘a few’ clients (Domestic violence service worker). This points to the wider issue that ‘target-hardening’ measures may - as Zedner (2003, p. 165) suggests - aggravate anxiety rather than providing reassurance. It is not certain that ‘security products’ will deliver ‘security’, but can perhaps create new forms of stress and sources of apprehension, further underlining Loader and White’s (2018) contention that security is difficult to commodify.
The example of personal duress alarms also speak to this point. While certain devices can create positive experiences for clients and reductions in breaches of intervention orders and abuse, for many clients, the introduction of the devices can also add burdens or become objects of stress. For instance, as reported by multiple domestic violence services, such devices do not always work as advertised or work with the technological ease that they ought to, therefore providing such devices to a traumatised client base can occasionally exacerbate anxiety: I mean, some people were anxious about having it – it’s just about the person’s ability and capacity to use a device like that. But these ones consistently have issues and – technical issues. They have, like, functionality issues … the actual devices don’t always work.
This section has outlined how one of the main elements of the ‘commodity’ of private security in this context is that companies can provide victims of domestic violence with ‘target-hardening’ tactics for raising their safety and potentially reducing violence or possibilities of abuse. While this research cannot definitively say whether such tactics create actual reductions in threats, there are data from the clients themselves and also other key stakeholders such as domestic violence services or police representatives that there is at least significant indicative evidence that this may be the case. However, there is also notable evidence that for some clients ‘target-hardening’ efforts can create additional problems in and of themselves. Duress alarms and CCTV for instance, can aggravate anxiety in certain individuals. This highlights the fraught dynamics of attempting to ‘commodify’ or purchase security. Efforts can be counter-productive for some and the deploying of such tactics carries risks that ought to be considered.
Security companies can provide ‘expert’ safety advice
In addition to simply providing ‘target-hardening’ suggestions, another element to the commodity of what private security companies can ‘do’ for victims of domestic violence is to provide them with practical ‘expert’ safety or criminal justice advice. When a security worker visits the home of a domestic violence victim, there is often a dialogue about the client’s sense of safety or general well-being, and in certain cases the client takes advantage of this opportunity to ask for additional advice, guidance, or input from the security worker. In these circumstances, there is a perception that the security worker is a suitable ‘expert’ in these matters and that their recommendations or commentary is supportive and beneficial for devising security strategies.
It should be noted that the ‘expertise’ and competence of security workers can be questioned (Zedner, 2006), and that security companies have a commercial inclination to perhaps ‘over-sell’ their understanding of certain issues. A prime example, for instance, is with respect to cyber-security. Technology-facilitated domestic violence is a rapidly growing concern (see Douglas et al., 2019; Dragiewicz et al., 2018; Harris & Woodlock, 2019) with 98% of domestic violence practitioners in Australia reporting that they have clients who have experienced ‘technology-facilitated stalking and abuse’ (Re:Charge, 2015, p. 5). Therefore, private security workers in this context are providing advice or practical guidance to victims on matters of general cyber security. For example, security workers may discuss phone safety with clients. One particular client was concerned that her abuser could track her through her phone, despite having got a new device. The security worker was able to explain how a perceived threat pertaining to WhatsApp was not technologically possible, and this was a significant relief to the client: And then he actually ended up having a really long conversation with her just about – she was actually really concerned about using WhatsApp or actually just about using her phone. … That was the level of her fear. [Named security worker] was brilliant. He just really talked with her on her level but kind of helped her to understand how impossible that is for him to know what her new number is just because she’s calling her parents and he knows their number. … I physically watched her just – just the relief that she felt from kind of realising that it’s actually going to be okay if I talk to mum and dad. ‘He’s not going to find out I’m in Adelaide if I do that’, was amazing.
In situations where a client is worried about an unfounded fear regarding technology, a security worker can helpfully clarify what is feasible and what is not. They can also provide general advice regarding privacy and security of their information and devices to address the growing risks of tech-facilitated abuse. However, this aspect of the ‘commodity’ of security workers also carries risks that the advice is inaccurate or that the security worker is speaking beyond their expertise. With the issue of spyware for instance, it was made known to this research that certain security companies were attempting to make claims regarding their ability to tackle spyware or clear a device of spyware. But certain threats from spyware require skilled on-device scanning or network traffic analysis that is of a level of sophistication beyond what a small or mid-sized private security company is likely to have.
This is the core risk of this aspect of the ‘commodity’ of private security ‘expert’ advice: it is difficult for domestic violence services or their clients to ascertain the validity or gauge the value of the practical advice. It many circumstances it has to be taken as a matter of faith or trust. This carries obvious risks, yet, there are circumstances and issues over which security companies can provide reliable practical advice or insight, and to the benefit of victims. For instance, it is common for security workers to be former police and they can use this professional experience to give clients a unique insight into how they can align their safety strategies with police processes. Clients can ask queries about the criminal justice process or security workers can detail how they can best collect evidence to support subsequent prosecution proceedings. As suggested by a representative of a domestic violence service: So I think their background in policing and their understanding both of the system about what to expect from police, what to – someone’s breaching an intervention order – they know from a police point of view what the police need to be able to act on that breach. So they’re able to give information to both workers and to women about ‘look this is what you need to be doing, we believe what you’re saying but from a police point of view they’re going to need X, Y and Z. Make sure you take screenshots of your messages, make sure you record’. All of those kinds of things that can give holistic advice around risk, around police response, around the actual devices and the security as well. So they’re able to offer a service which is more holistic I guess than purely someone saying ‘yes we can go out, we can look at the manhole and we can get a camera and put that in’.
Security workers give clients of domestic violence services practical, ‘expert’ advice on safety or security strategies, and this is another main component of the ‘commodity’ purchased. While this advice can be often sound, reliable, helpful and ultimately to the practical benefit of the client, there are areas and circumstances in which this advice may be wrong, faulty, or inadvertently to the detriment of the client. Like above, this illustrates the ‘contested’ nature of security advice (Loader & White, 2018), and the uncertainties involved with commodifying a ‘security’ product.
Security ‘therapy’
Another aspect to the ‘commodity’ of private security workers engaging with victims of domestic violence is the ‘therapeutic’ effects of their work. As will be shown, many victims and their support workers talked about the non-practical impacts of how security workers delivered reassurance and general feelings of confidence to victims. These psychological impacts are distinct from the ramifications of the ‘target-hardening’ or the expert advice, and represent their own additional influence on the client. By virtue of having a conversation about security with a ‘security professional’, it appears that some victims gain improved mental well-being that is largely psychological (rather than practical or material), and thus, is described here as a form of security ‘therapy’. A prime illustration of this is how several victims and their support workers commonly discussed the creation of ‘peace of mind’:
So your overall experience with [private security company], was it largely positive, negative, indifferent?
It was one of the greatest interventions of my life.
Really?
Yeah.
What was it about it? Is there any particular aspects that you liked?
It just made me feel like my safety mattered and my peace of mind was important and they restored it. Do you know what I mean?
Numerous representatives of domestic violence services talked about how the security workers could provide forms of ‘reassurance’ that led to anxiety-relief for some clients, ‘which was like a godsend’ (Representative of a domestic violence service). For some victims, it was the conversation about security with a professional that created beneficial psychological outcomes (note: the below quote refers to a police officer, but the security worker was a former police officer which was acknowledged elsewhere by the interview subject):
… you had a chat and can you remember vaguely what you talked about?
Yes, we spoke about my situation and what I’d been through and what my ex-husband was doing at the time. And he was very aware of that personality in him, and you know, just sort of put me at ease a little bit in terms of just being understood I think. That’s really what we chatted about I think.
So, it wasn’t even just about the security assessment, it was also the chat you found helpful?
Yeah, it was I that sort of brought it up because I was very distraught at that time. It was very early days when I went through that ordeal. I was very distraught and I was suffering from anxiety and other things, trauma and shock, so I just really felt I needed someone to speak to and him being a police officer I felt comfortable speaking with him about where I was at. It helped a lot.
In general, the combination of the interventions and the in-person conversations with a security ‘expert’ could have beneficial psychological impacts for the victim-client who could take away increased confidence and assurances from their safety conversations:
… I was going to say ‘did that give you some comfort’, but go ahead … .
It did. It absolutely did, you know, and measures that I’d taken and like I’d already have kind of a safety plan but I went through it more thoroughly with him and he sort of reassured me that I was pretty on-the-ball and had already taken some good steps to my safety. That was good. It was just good to get a second opinion and not made to feel sort of over-dramatic and just made to feel like comforted and appreciated in my concerns. That was nice.
In this respect, it is argued here that certain victims can experience a ‘therapeutic’ impact to speaking with a security professional about their safety concerns, and that this impact is distinct from the effects of the more practical aspects to what the security companies ‘do’ for victims. It should be considered however, that there are distinct risks to this ‘therapeutic’ element to the relationship. In particular, security workers often do not have any specific credentials in dealing with victims of domestic violence and there are clear dangers to them playing a ‘therapeutic’ role, which should predominantly belong to accredited professionals and domestic violence support workers.
Furthermore, the conversations between security workers and victims about security inevitably involve discussion of sensitive topics regarding personal safety, but in certain occasions, this has made victims distinctly uncomfortable and some have felt they were being ‘probed’ unnecessarily about confidential topics. As raised by one representative of a domestic violence service ‘sometimes some women have felt a bit violated by the questioning during the safety audit’ because the security worker asked ‘a few too many personal questions’. On certain occasions, private security workers were known to overstep the mark and ask violating questions, highlighting the clear risks around the conversations between security worker and the victim. Private security workers discussing safety issues with victims of domestic violence will always carry the risk of agitating the victim or making them feel unnecessarily ‘probed’, but for many other victims, this encounter can encourage a sense of relief, confidence, assurance and improved feelings of well-being. Again, this element of ‘security therapy’ reflects the uncertainty of the commodity of private security work.
Security theatre
Finally, another element of what security workers ‘do’ for victim of domestic violence is to provide a form of ‘security theatre’. Numerous scholars have already articulated the ‘spectacle’ quality of security tactics and practices (Mireanu, 2013; Walsh, 2015), or noted the ‘theatrical rituals’ of forms of security (Amoore & Hall, 2010). Schneier (2003) is also credited with coining the term ‘security theatre’ to describe steps taken to improve security where the effectiveness or impact of these steps are either non-existent or undemonstrated. A quintessential example of this phenomena is said to be airport security that is aimed primarily at providing the appearance of safety and control, rather than demonstrating actual impacts on risks or threats (see Levenson 2014). It is argued here that elements of what private security companies ‘do’ for victims of domestic violence is also a form of ‘security theatre’.
Security workers undertake unscrutinised audits of victim’s property and make broadly speculative claims about how to protect oneself. As a prime example, in certain circumstances, security workers are known to use ‘bug detection’ equipment that is purported to ‘sweep’ the surrounding area for malicious surveillance devices. While some published work suggests that electronic counter-surveillance is viable (Gold, 2013), there is no definitive or proven track record of ‘bug detection’ being a suitable method for uncovering unwanted surveillance. Security companies who spoke with this research suggested they had made positive discoveries of hidden GPS trackers within the homes and cars of victims, however, this was unverified and it is unclear if any ‘bug detectors’ played a key role or whether the device was discovered using a visual audit. Furthermore, unpublished research suggests that there are a number of key limitations to the ability of ‘bug detectors’ to detect the type of devices that are likely to be used in the context of intimate partner abuse (Harkin et al., 2020).
Regardless of whether ‘sweeping for bugs’ works or not – and at this stage it is unproven – it is argued here that in most instances it represents a form of security theatre. It gives a strong visual spectacle of a high-tech form of securitisation that produces primarily psychological feelings of safety rather than practical and verifiable forms of safety. As noted by one victim for instance, the whole audit and ‘sweeping’ process provided its own form of reassurance: It made you feel – once they’d gone through the house and everything like that, you just felt a lot safer, yeah, with knowing that someone had been through your house, someone who’s professional had gone through and checked everything, told you how to drive, swept your cars for bugs and did all that sort of stuff, you could actually function again.
It is suggested, therefore, that regardless of the efficacy of some of the steps taken by security workers, the visual theatrics and spectacle of someone auditing a home (and other property) has their own impacts upon victims. This impact however, is not without risks and could be potentially misleading or provide a false sense of security. ‘Security theatre’ thus poses a notable ethical question: is it justifiable to create impressions of security based on false-grounds if it produces positive psychological benefits for vulnerable victims, or is it a misleading deception that exploits ignorance and potentially creates an exaggerated sense of safety? This element of the ‘commodity’ will have different impacts on different individuals.
Discussion
As argued by Zedner (2003, p. 154): Security is a slippery concept. Its meanings are multiple and without clarity about which meaning is intended (or understood); exactly what is being provided and consumed, sold and bought, promised or sought remains obscure.
This paper has attempted to bring some clarity and close-detail description of what is bought when domestic violence advocacy services contract private security companies to perform tasks for their clients. It has described the key elements of the commodity that is purchased in order to unpack and reveal the ambiguities, uncertainties and risks that typically accompany work performed under the banner of ‘security’. As suggested by Valverde (2010, p. 5), ‘all that we can know about security is what people do in its name’, and we need empirical studies that ‘tell us what “security” means, in practice’.
As shown above security work in the context of domestic violence is fraught with moral ambiguity, uncertainty and entrenched risk. While security companies can make positive impacts on the lives of victims of domestic violence, there are a host of risks that will always remain. Not all interventions will impact upon victims in the same way. As the example of CCTV shows, some individuals respond to CCTV being installed with great enthusiasm and relief, for a minority however, it creates heightened anxiety. Some victims welcome and take comfort in discussing security issues with a private security worker, others find it invasive and disconcerting. And finally, ‘security theatre’ performed by security workers is ethically and morally ambiguous: it is welcome if it helps anxious and stressed individuals to have some ‘peace of mind’, but it is also based on false assumptions and grounded in misplaced confidence in security workers and/or ‘debugging equipment’.
Furthermore, a number of other risks exist when domestic violence services permit security workers access to their clients. Security workers may attempt to establish inappropriate relationships with victim/clients, workers may attempt to up-sell or exploit domestic violence services for greater profits, security companies may have weak data protection practices, security workers may be incompetent, or security workers could encounter perpetrators in the field while delivering their services (see Harkin 2020, pp. 42–62). Risks such as these are ever present and only some of them are manageable or can be addressed through adequate regulation (see for example Stiernstedt et al., 2020). This further underlines the argument made by Zedner (2003), Loader and White (2018), and others, that purchasing security is not straight-forward. It is fraught with moral ambiguity, risk and uncertainty.
While this paper aims to be part of a lineage of scholarship that details ‘thick’ descriptions of the ‘polysemy of security’ within particular empirical contexts (see for example Ranasginhe 2012), and the wider literature on the in-the-field practices of the private security industry (see for example Button, 2007; Diphoorn, 2015; Hobbs et al., 2002; Kenna, 2010; Prenzler & King, 2002; Rigakos, 2002), it also has a more practical focus: to articulate whether the commodity provided by private security companies is ‘value for money’ for domestic and family violence services? Are the risks justifiable in the context of the gains? As noted earlier, it is at the discretion of domestic violence services or government authorities to do what they want with their limited funds, but this paper outlines in greater detail what they are buying when they contract security workers in this area. Crucially, this question also needs to be strategically considered in the context of what existing support services can ‘do’ for victims of domestic violence. A literature exists critiquing police responses to domestic violence, suggesting that many calls to the Police are unanswered or lack adequate follow-up (Domestic Violence Victoria, 2015), and that the police are under-resourced to address victims needs adequately. Similarly, it is also widely recognised that domestic violence advocacy services are under-funded and often lacking in the skills and capacities to perform the type of ‘target-hardening’ work described here. Skills around cyber-security and technological threats are observed to be a particular struggle for domestic violence advocacy workers (see White 2019).
In this context, therefore, it is worth noting that private security workers are perhaps the only viable alternative for delivering reliable forms of target-hardening and certain expert advice. Police organisations are unlikely to commit the resources necessary, and domestic violence advocacy services generally do not have the resources, expertise or capabilities. Additionally, as discussed here, due to the perceived legitimacy, authority and symbolic capital of private security workers, they can also deliver beneficial impacts as a results of the ‘security therapy’ and ‘security theatre’ aspects of their work. The private security literature has long observed that private security work is heavily reliant on forms of ‘symbolic power’ (see for example Button, 2007; Diphoorn, 2015; Mopas & Stenning, 2001; Stenning, 2000), and this paper has noted how this perceived authority can be to the benefit of insecure and anxious victims of domestic violence. In this respect, private security workers offer a unique package of effects within their security ‘commodity’.
However, it must be kept in mind that selling and buying security is always fraught with uncertainty, risks and ambiguity. The work of private security companies requires ongoing scrutiny and will inevitably create counter-productive effects or impacts (on certain occasions). Considering that private security is operating in contexts where ‘under-regulation’ is a ‘norm’ (Prenzler & Sarre, 2008, p. 46) the quandary for domestic violence advocacy services and government authorities then becomes a question of whether the risks are tolerable in light of the potential gains. Is it worth the risk to deploy target-hardening measures to large numbers of victims, in the knowledge that it will be counter-productive for some? Is it worth the risk to expose security workers to their clients, in the knowledge that some will receive a poor service? Is it appropriate to deploy ‘theatrical’ untested methods of securitisation if it proves to be a useful charade that delivers notable psychological benefits? These will have to be decided by domestic violence advocacy workers but this paper provides crucial detail and conceptual framing for deciding whether private security companies offer ‘value for money’ when responding to the security needs of victims of domestic violence.
Conclusion
As suggested by Loader and White (2018, p. 1404), ‘security is not an “ordinary” commodity’. It is difficult to provide as a vendible product, and when it is bought or sold it is often unclear what is purchased (Zedner, 2003). The contracting of private security companies by domestic violence services (or government agencies) brings into question what is being provided for victims of domestic violence when they encounter private security workers. While Australia is uniquely experimenting with this type of service model, it is foreseeable that international contexts may also deploy security workers in this way and therefore it is important to understand what security workers can ‘do’ for victims. As argued here, the answer is a mix of practical advice or tangible ‘target-hardening’ strategies, but also more psychological or symbolic effects, termed here as ‘security therapy’ and ‘security theatre’. Crucially, the package of the commodity of private security work in this domain comes with a series of uncertainties and risks, underlining the difficulty of creating a reliable commodity of security. When considering whether private security companies are ‘value for money’, domestic violence services should understand the uncertainty of the commodity they are buying, its main constitutive elements and the tensions between considerable benefits and the ever present risks.
Footnotes
Declaration of conflicting interests
The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This work was supported by The Salvation Army (Australia) and Deakin University’s Alfred Deakin Postdoctoral Research Fellowship scheme. The author engaged in a research agreement with The Salvation Army to write a report on their Safer in the Home programme (no grant number available) and it was supported in the wider research effort by the Alfred Deakin Postdoctoral Research Fellowship (no grant number available).