San Francisco Shoplifting: Much More Than You Wanted to Know

Some people argue that shoplifters in San Francisco are running rampant. I don’t think this is true.

Instead of a proper introduction, let’s just refute with the strongest arguments off the bat.

Argument 1: “Forget the empirics for a second, and just look at the actual policies. California’s Prop 47 decriminalises shoplifting and means that there are no consequences for criminals. That’s clearly bad right?”

In a Marginal Revolution post about San Francisco’s alleged shoplifting spree, economist Tyler Cowen highlights a popular explanation for criminals’ flagrant disregard of the law. As his linked New York Times article explains:

Five years later, the shoplifting epidemic in San Francisco has only worsened…

The retail executives and police officers emphasized the role of organized crime in the thefts. And they told the supervisors that Proposition 47, the 2014 ballot measure that reclassified nonviolent thefts as misdemeanors if the stolen goods are worth less than $950, had emboldened thieves.

As Tyler concludes: “yes incentives matter”.

Similarly, in an article tilted 'San Francisco Has Become a Shoplifter’s Paradise" the Wall Street Journal argues:

Much of this lawlessness can be linked to Proposition 47, a California ballot initiative passed in 2014, under which theft of less than $950 in goods is treated as a nonviolent misdemeanor and rarely prosecuted.

That sounds really bad right? It would be horrible if San Francisco were experiencing an entirely avoidable crime spree due entirely to some ridiculously misguided progressive policy.

…Except that this causal attribution is not even plausibly correct.

Though it’s tempting to frame the law as just another artefact of California’s bleeding-heart progressivism, similar laws are in fact present in all 50 states.

You might object that other states have different financial thresholds for felonies… which would be a good counter argument except that California is actually on the low end. Every single US state has a minimum threshold for felony theft, and 38 of them are higher than California’s. Texas notably has a threshold of $2500, which means you can steal 2.6 more than you could in California before being classified as a felon. Talk about incentives! [1]

Or from Pew, here’s a useful map of the thresholds across the US, highlighting California’s unusually stringent standards:

So not only is the law not a San Francisco Matter, or a Chesa Boudin matter, it’s not even a California matter! And even if it were, a study from Pew research suggests it wouldn’t have a significant impact on larceny rates anyway.

Further, as the sources correctly note, the policy was implemented in California in 2014. So even on the basis of their own limited facts, it doesn’t make any sense to blame recent alleged waves of shoplifting on either the new DA or a law that’s been in place for several preceding years.

Look: this is a complex issue, and some of the following claims will be complex and nuanced.

But this first one is easy. It’s not even arguable. It’s just poor causal attribution, poor reasoning, and an abject failure to do even the bare minimum of background research before reporting in prestige media outlets.

Argument 2: “San Francisco has a shoplifting surge, but it’s not reported because people know the police won’t respond, and the new DA won’t press charges.”

This is a compelling view, and one that puts us into a seductively militant position. What’s the point of arguing about data if we have good reason not to trust it?

Fortunately, there is still an avenue to find good evidence: every neighbouring county.

Imagine you’re an organised criminal in the Bay Area, but not living in San Francisco proper. Perhaps you’re across the Golden Gate Bridge in Sausalito, or across the Bay Bridge in Oakland. One day, San Francisco elects a new District Attorney who’s famously soft on crime and refuses to prosecute shoplifters. Do you:

  • A) Continue to shoplift in Oakland where you might be caught and punished, or
  • B) Take a 15 minute BART ride to San Francisco where you can shoplift with impunity?

In other words, if San Francisco is truly the “shoplifter’s paradise” it’s critics claim, we shouldn’t just expect to see a rise in cases locally, we should expect a drop in cases in all of its neighbours. Shoplifters should be virtually swarming from across county lines to partake in the unencumbered criminality.

Instead, here’s how shoplifting changed in adjacent counties from 2019 to 2020:

[Decline in shoplifting reports in San Francisco, adjacent counties and California as a whole from 2019 to 2020. Data from the California Department of Justice, compiled in this Google Sheet.]

It’s tricky, cases do fall, but most of that is pandemic effects. When compared to the state as a whole, adjacent counties saw relatively little decrease in shoplifting (with the slim exception of San Mateo). That’s the exact opposite of what you would expect to see if criminals were following their alleged incentives.

Faced with the San Francisco data alone, you might argue that residents have given up on the DA, so reports are down even as crime is up. But it’s hard to tell a similar story about adjacent counties’ apparent lack of reported decline.

(You might argue that this only proves the problem runs deeper than DA Chesa Boudin, and deeper than San Francisco, and is really about California as a whole being too soft and liberal. But again, think about what the data tells us. It’s not just that Marin County has more or less shoplifting than the state as a whole, it’s that upon a specific intervention (the election of a new DA), shoplifting in Marin County dropped less, indicating a lack of substitution into San Francisco.)

The problem with the “residents don’t bother reporting” view is that it’s simply too compelling. It allows us to ignore data, ignore nuanced argumentation, ignore even the semblance of rigour, all while taking the moral high ground of a “man on the street” aligned with the interests of “everyday people”.

As concerned resident Sam Altman writes:

“The thing I have noticed is when the anecdotes and the data disagree, the anecdotes are usually right. There’s something wrong with the way you are measuring it” -Jeff Bezos

This is how I feel about SF crime data. Almost everyone I know who lives here is experiencing more.

As tempting as it is, we can’t fall prey to this kind of quantitative-nihilism. The problem with anecdotes isn’t just that they’re biased, subject to selection effects, and so on, it’s that everyone has their own experiences, so we can go on disagreeing with each other, sometimes violently, until the end of time.

In contrast, if you don’t like my data, it’s here for you to independently investigate, criticise, reproduce, etc. It’s not objective, and it’s not a perfect science, but we can at least have a conversation rooted in some common understanding of what evidence is out there, and we can make shared epistemic progress.

So the lesson here is that San Francisco’s doesn’t seem to be much softer on crime than the rest of California, but the meta-lesson is that when one data source is known to be poor, you don’t have to give up, you just have to find other angles of attack.

Argument 3: “We know San Francisco has a shoplifting problem because stores are closing. That can’t be faked and wouldn’t happen otherwise, so it’s strong evidence that the city has a real problem.”

Some staunch anti-capitalists might say “Walgreens is closing? Good. Screw corporate profits.” [2]

Let me clarify that this is not my view. As an armchair urbanist like the rest of you, I think that dense urban walkable neighbourhoods are critical to thriving communities, and though a small local business might be preferable to a chain pharmacy, the latter is still strongly preferable to nothing. When stores close, communities lose access to groceries, over the counter medicine, prescription pickup, Covid vaccinations and much more.

So if store closures are undeniable and tragic, why do I disagree? Because you’re still ignoring base rates.

Yes, Walgreens announced the closure of 5 stores throughout the city. I’ve heard this cited over and over again. What I haven’t seen is discussion of how that compares to their historical average closure rate, the average closure rate of comparable stores in comparable cities, and so on. What we’re asking is not “did Walgreens close stores”, but “are these closures unusual enough to serve as evidence of a broader societal ill?”

According to the SF Chronicle, there were 17 Walgreens closures in the 5 years leading up to May 2021, and from the Wall Street Journal, another 5 announced in the latter half of 2021, bringing the total to 22.

So ignoring the most recent year, Walgreens was closing at an annual rate of 3.4 stores. Including 2021, the overall average was 3.7 per year. That makes 5 closures in a single year high, but not extraordinarily so. [3]

We can also compare SF Walgreens to NYC Duane Reade, a similar outlet owned by the same parent company. Industry data shows that their number of locations plummeted from 317 in 2019, to just 253 in 2020, for a decline of 17%. By comparison, there are still 45 Walgreens left in San Francisco, making their 2021 decline a much more modest 10%.

Third, we’ll look at how the 2021 Walgreens closures compare to their broader financial outlook. Their stock price is down 39% since 2016, compared to a store closure rate in SF of 33% in the same period. I’m not suggesting store footprints should necessarily be linearly related to stock prices, just that given the existence of a general decline in the chain’s finances, store closures don’t really merit additional explanation or blame.

For an overall comparison, hear are some rates to consider:

The 5 store closures are certainly notable, but taken in context, don’t suggest an extreme deviation from what we might expect.

What I’m really saying is: store closures are bad, but they are sufficiently well explained by existing non-shoplifting factors, including Walgreens’s general decline, and of course, the global pandemic and subsequent economic shocks that hit in this same time period.

Rather than naively inferring from stock price, it’s worth taking a closer look at the chain’s financial ills. On a January 6th call with investors, the Walgreens CFO detailed how the chain’s shrink rate–loss of inventory due to shoplifting, employee theft, and other causes–has hit 3.25%, up from 2% a decade ago. The phenomenon hasn’t been unique to San Francisco. As shown in data collected from the National Retail Security Survey and charted by SF Chronicle, shrinkage rates are up across the country:

We can further investigate the claim by looking at individual Walgreens. Though some of the five stores with announced closures did see a substantial rise in shoplifting in 2020, SF Chronicle reports that the 2550 Ocean Ave. location reported a mere 3 cases throughout the entire year, similar to the 4 cases it reported in 2019. The 4645 Mission St. location reported a mere 3 cases of shoplifting in 2021 (the closure was announced in mid-October).

Further doubts are cast on the shoplifting-driven closure narrative due to a 2019 SEC Filing in which Walgreens announced their plan to close “approximately 200 locations in the United States” as part of their “Transformational Cost Management Program” designed to “achieve increased cost efficiencies”.

On Twitter, Mike Solana sarcastically quips that the profit-driven motive for closing stores is absurd since “everyone knows the fewer stores you have, the more money you make. ‘going out of business’ is just another nefarious capitalist plot.”

But in a world transformed by ecommerce, pandemics and labour shortages… that is actually true. It’s not exactly conspiratorial to think that closing unprofitable stores is a good way to raise profits.

That’s precisely what they explained in their 2019 SEC filing, and even how, up until recently, Walgreens explained specific chain closures. From a February 2020 article, a spokesperson explains that the 730 Market St. store closure was “necessary to cut costs”, and part of the “transformational cost management program to accelerate the ongoing transformation of our business, enable investments in key areas and to become a more efficient enterprise.”

Finally, we can zoom in to the 2019-2020 to examine the effects of a new DA and look at the 8 stores closed over that time period. Even addresses in hand, it’s hard to find news coverage of specific closures, but I’ve done my best to source dates for each of these locations:

So of the 8 stores closed over the 2 year period, 4 were in 2019, 2 in 2020, and 2 are ambiguous, but have their final Yelp review in 2019. Since these reviews are intermittent, we can’t rely on them entirely, but it’s at least suggestive.

Overall, it doesn’t look like Walgreens’ 2021 closure rate requires explanation beyond pandemic effects, their own 2019 cost management program, and broader economic trends. Additionally, it appears their 2020 closure rate was below, or at best on par with, their 2019 closure rate, indicating that the new DA, who took office at the start of 2020, did not accelerate the decline of Walgreens in San Francisco.

Again: I believe that store closures are generally bad. And whether or not it’s a departure from historical and national context, you may feel that another 5 Walgreens closing in 2021 is bad for the city. I agree, but that’s not the question at hand. What we need to understand is whether or not these closures can be blamed on the new DA, “soft-on-crime” policies, or progressive criminal justice reform. And given the evidence presented, the case for that narrative is extremely weak.

Argument 4: But I’ve seen the viral videos!

Look, I’ll admit that these look bad, and that simply appealing to higher faculties is insufficient for dismissing clear, flagrant and frankly shocking instances of shoplifting in a city that just doesn’t seem to care.

You may have seen this video of two women loading cartfulls of what appears to be laundry detergent and other bath products into the back of a van:

Or this one of two men with what can only be described as humorously large bags walking (not even bothering to run) out of a store:

Or this one of a smash and grab inside a mall:

If you haven’t guessed, none of these are from San Francisco. The first is in Connecticut, the second in Granada Hills in LA, and the third allegedly from Desert Sky Mall in Phoenix, though I haven’t found a real source. Of course there are videos taken of shoplifters in San Francisco, my point is just that they don’t prove anything.

I know this is a stupid form of argumentation, but some of you literally asked for it, and I’m sick of spending dozens of hours on data analysis only to get feedback that it can’t possibly be right because it contradicts some anecdote you heard from a friend.

Let me be clear about how this kind of observational data works. If I say “there’s no data proving that sparking unicorns”, and you say “I’ve literally seen one”, then you are right to trust your observations and distrust my data. All the claim calls for is an existence proof, and as far as your experiences are concerned, you have a perfectly valid one.

On the other hand, if I say “There were thousands of shoplifting cases in San Francisco in 2020 and 2021, I’m just not convinced this represents a sudden increase over previous years”. And you say “But I’ve seen people shoplifting!!!”, that proves approximately nothing. You could show me hundreds of videos, and I still wouldn’t care, because you could have done the same thing in 2019, and you could have done the same in dozens of other cities. So sure, it’s evidence for something, just not the question that’s actually relevant to this debate.

The past couple years have been difficult. It’s easy to be a doomer, and easy to feel hyper-attuned to things that are going poorly.

Writing for the New York Times, bureau chief Thomas Fuller even admits that he bore witness to flagrant shoplifting in the city as early as 2016. But at the time it felt like a one off thing, and in 2022 it now feels like part of some  bigger narrative. You feel that the DA is too progressive. That the BLM protests were too destructive. That the city is too woke. Whatever. None of these macro-narratives good reason to believe that your anecdotes are representative of broader trends, if anything, they’re reasons to think you’re suffering from confirmation bias.

You used to live in small tribes and developed a brain eager to generalise from small sample sizes. Now you live in a world of 8 billion people, most of them equipped with smart phones and an internet connection. It’s easy to find anecdotal evidence, and easy to feel like it’s compelling. As Gwern once wrote:

The paradox of news is that by design, the more you read, the less you might know, by accumulating an ever greater arsenal of facts and examples which are (usually) true, but whose interpretation bears ever less resemblance to reality.

That’s the reality of our brave new world. I suggest you either develop defences against it, or get off the internet. Better yet, stop reading the news altogether.

If this was a frustrating section to read, I promise it was equally frustrating to write, and I take no joy in these childish bait-and-switch ploys. But don’t give up yet, the next two are better in tone, importance and rigour.

Argument 5: “Chesa Boudin really is overly progressive. He has naive views about criminal justice, and charging rates have dropped as a result. I don’t have to prove that as consequences fall, criminality goes up.”

From the SF Chronicle analysis, here’s the breakdown of Chesa’s charging rates:

They have indeed dropped for theft and petty theft, and by fairly substantial levels! Petty theft in particular is down from 58% to 35%. So is that it? Despite everything, Chesa really is soft on crime, and whatever the other evidence suggests, it would be strange for this change to not result in a dramatic surge?

Not so fast. Again, we have to understand the results in context. Here are charging rates for Chesa and the previous DA over the last decade, both overall and for larceny/theft:

There was indeed a sharp drop in 2020, but it was followed by a sharp uptick. For Larceny/Theft, the 2021 rate is still a bit under peak (74% versus 77%), but much higher than the historical average of 61%. His overall 2021 charging rates are even more aggressive, coming in just under the 2018 peak (67% versus 71%), and much higher than the average of 60%.

In both cases, Chesa’s 2021 rates are higher than those in 7 out of the 9 years preceding his tenure.

So if Chesa isn’t particularly light on crime, why the drop in 2020? Chesa’s own defence is that logistics were difficult, and he had to prioritise. From the same SF Chronicle piece:

Boudin maintains that the drop in charging rates for theft is mainly due to the reduced operation of San Francisco’s court system caused by COVID-19 restrictions. The charging rate for both types of theft increased between 2020 and 2021 as the city reopened, the data shows.

“We had clear instructions from courts to delay and defer anything we could delay and defer, [and] from the medical director to drastically reduce the (jail) population,” he said. “In the context of those really difficult decisions, we did make intentional decisions to delay or defer charging low-level nonviolent cases.”[4]

Granting his defence, we’re not left asking if Chesa’s charging rates are high enough across the board, but if, given some limited capacity to process cases, he was allocating resources in a reasonable way. Here were his charging rates across the board:

Here we see that although rates were down for several crimes, they weren’t down across the board, and were higher for rape, willful homicide and narcotics cases. The first two are obviously serious crimes worthy of justice system resources, and though drug policy is controversial, this third category seems fair given San Francisco’s tragic record of drug overdoses.  Overall, it feels like a reasonable allocation of limited resources.

Finally, you might wonder about the specific instances you’ve heard of where Chesa lets off a criminal, only for them to re-offend, sometimes with horrific consequences. This is obviously bad, but it’s not so much a matter of intense debate as a matter of statistical nuance meeting a human interest story.

If an innocent person is arrested, we never get to learn about the counterfactual: what could have happened otherwise. On the other hand, if a guilty person is let free and commits another crime, we’re given reason to feel regret and resent the DA.

I’m not going to wax poetic about liberalism’s virtue of requiring high burdens of proof for criminal charges. The point is just that given imperfections, a statistical classifier will make two kinds of errors, and given the human context, we’re liable to ignore the false positives are ignored, while the false negatives are seared into our collective consciousness.

Argument 6: “Reported cases are actually skyrocketing.”

It might feel bizarre to put this last, but I’m worried it’s a strawman since very few of Chesa’s critics actually seem to be citing the data. In any case, if we just take monthly reports, a disturbing trend does start to emerge:

Reports were pretty stable around 200, plummeted at the start of the pandemic, slowly rebounded, and then suddenly shot up from 193 in August to 391 in September.

That sounds bad, until you take a closer look at where the reports are coming from. Or more specifically, the one store where nearly half of all reports originated:


That’s right, of the 391 reports from September, 155 were from a single location: a Target on Mission and 4th. So what happened? A dramatic crime surge? Not quite, as a spokesperson explains: “The store was simply using a new reporting system.”

What about October and November? Again, it’s mostly just that one Target location. In October, in a city of nearly a million people, one Target accounted for 39% of all shoplifting reports. In November, it accounted for 35%. To put that into context: In those three months, that Target reported a total of 465 cases, compared to 201 cases it had reported in the previous 44 months combined.

To correct against the apparent increased caused by their new reporting system, we can replace their reports from those months with the store’s historical average to get a sense for what reports might have looked like:

This is starting to look less like a sudden surge and more like a mundane reversion to the mean. But you’ll notice there’s still a sudden surge in November.

At this point, I was suspicious enough of outliers to investigate further. And sure enough, found a single Safeway that accounts for the entire spike:

_source: [](

I wasn’t able to find a similar source confirming that this is due to a change in reporting, but when asked about increased reports at the Target location, a police spokesperson confirmed that “the new reporting system was accessible to other businesses”, so it wouldn’t be too surprising if this Safeway adopted the new system in November.

Previously, this location had reported just 1 incident per month, compared to 120 incidents in November. Making a similar adjustment, we’re left with a totally unremarkable trend:

With those two adjustments made, the spike disappears entirely, and we’re left with something totally expected: a sudden drop at the start of the pandemic, followed by a steady reversion to the historical average.

Now look, it’s entirely possible that the new reporting system Target uses is better and more accurate than the previous one. In fact, I think it’s likely that they were undercounting before, and that the new data is closer to ground truth. But an odd property of data analysis is that being selectively more accurate, or more accurate all of a sudden, does not necessarily make your overall picture a better one.

The crucial question at hand is not whether Target suffered 100+ shoplifting cases in a single month, but whether it was an abrupt departure from historical trends. I don’t think the data supports that narrative, but it doesn’t dispel it either. That’s why it’s important to leverage the variety of angles I’ve pursued throughout this piece.


This has been a contentious post, so let me wrap things up with more mundane “good-things-are-good” optimism. Whatever you think of the last couple years, here is the actual macro trend that matters:

And across non-violent crimes more broadly:

And finally, violent crimes:

You’re free to have doubts about the veracity of a lot of crime-data, but homicide rates are as close as we get to ground truth. They’re hard to cover up, the police do investigate, and people do bother reporting them. And as we saw, even in 2020, Chesa Boudin’s charging rate for willful homicides was actually above that of his predecessor.

In a variety of ways, across a variety of important indicators, crime per capita has plummeted in San Francisco over the last 30 years.

San Francisco remains a focal point for a number of crises, not because it’s unique, but because it’s a uniquely good entrypoint into a host of popular issues. It’s a city that gives conservatives reason to shriek in horror and point out that the progressive-state has failed, while giving liberals an opportunity to bemoan income inequality, housing shortages, gentrification and so on.

It is tempting to turn the city into a kind of ideological battleground. And in some ways, it should be. If San Francisco fails, it might take many of our brightest technical minds with it.

But San Francisco is also a real city, inhabited by real people. I mean that in a sentimental way, but also in the sense of being in awe at the complexity of the world. Some police data is bad, that’s fine, you can get around it. Don’t trust the SFPD statistics? You can check them against the California DOJ or FBI numbers. Skeptical about a chart? You can use the sfgov data portal to investigate each individual data point.

Scott states the law of rationalist irony: “the smugger you feel about having caught a bias in someone else, the more likely you are falling victim to that bias right now, in whatever way would be most embarrassing.”

And I’m sure it applies here. I’m not a criminologist, or a data journalist, or even a San Francisco resident. I don’t know if I would have voted for Chesa in 2019, or if I would have voted against him in the upcoming recall.

But I am actually interested in figuring out what’s true, and discussing it beyond shallow politics and useless anecdotes.

If I’ve made a mistake here, I would love for you to email me and tell me about it so I can share the correction with others. If there’s data I’m missing or could have used more effectively, I would love to hear about that too. And finally, if you have some compelling macro-narrative, speculative or not, that explains all the downright weirdness in all of this, I am happy to discuss it.

Thanks to Slime Mold Time Mold for comments, and thanks to Maxwell Tabarrok for research assistance with this post.

[1] What’s more, only Alaska’s threshold is tied to inflation, and some of these laws haven’t been updated since 1978 (New Hampshire) So there’s a strong argument to be made that the thresholds for classifying theft as felony should be higher in most US states. That same Pew report cites one of their studies, explaining that “in the 30 states that raised their thresholds between 2000 and 2012, downward trends in property crime or larceny rates, which began in the early 1990s, continued without interruption. These states reported roughly the same average decrease in crime as the 20 states that did not change their theft laws, and the threshold amounts were not correlated with property crime or larceny rates.”

[2] Though I will admit that it’s ironic to see so much attention placed on shoplifting under $950 in merchandise, and so little placed on Walgreens admitting to millions in wage theft in California alone.

[3] That might sound weird, but statistically it’s the norm. If you’re trying to detect outliers, you still include outliers in the standard deviation calculation.

[4] I’m a little hesitant to just take Chesa’s word at face value, and wasn’t able to independently confirm, but adversarial source Delian Asparouhov does admit after talking to Chesa that it’s “interesting to think about wtf do you do when you can’t run a jury trial…”.

San Francisco Shoplifting: Prelude

You may have heard that there’s a shoplifting surge hitting San Francisco. Criminals are running wild, and thanks to bleeding-heart progressive prosecutor Chesa Boudin, there are no consequences for any of it.

Consider the Wall Street Journal headline “San Francisco Has Become a Shoplifter’s Paradise”, or the New York Times article on “San Francisco’s Shoplifting Surge” which opens “The mundane crime of shoplifting has spun out of control”. Or for more local coverage, you might prefer SF Mayor London Breed’s pronouncement:

[we will] take the steps to become more aggressive with law enforcement, more aggressive with the changes in our policies, and less tolerant of all the bullshit that is destroying our cities.

If mainstream media isn’t your thing, perhaps you’d prefer various ingroup thought leaders weighing in. Here’s Tyler Cowen uncritically quoting a CVS exec who calls San Francisco “​​one of the epicenters of organized retail crime”. And Marginal Revolution co-blogger Alex Tabarrok on the “rampant, brazen shoplifting in San Francisco.” Or legendary tech titans David Sacks, Chamath Palihapitiya and Jason Calacanis on the “pure propaganda” “preposterous claim” that crime could possibly be anything but skyrocketing.

The only problem is, evidence for the surge is scant, and largely anecdotal.

Sure there are viral videos, but in a city of 900,000, with tens of thousands of thefts reported each year in normal times, it’s easy to find dozens of instances that establish a narrative, while still proving nothing. As Diaconis and Mosteller put it, “With a large enough sample, any outrageous thing is likely to happen.” Or as Gwern puts it more brutally:

The paradox of news is that by design, the more you read, the less you might know, by accumulating an ever greater arsenal of facts and examples which are (usually) true, but whose interpretation bears ever less resemblance to reality. This was always true, but online/​mainstream media and social networking, which turn over much more rapidly, seem to have become increasingly misleading as to the state of the world by focusing on ‘stories’ and ‘events’ rather than trends and averages. [1]

Normally, this kind of discussion is fairly straightforward. Some people on the internet make misleading claims, some other people post charts demolishing their claims, and the matter is settled. In the case of San Francisco shoplifting, we don’t have that luxury. It’s not just that the anecdotes are misleading, it’s that even the data bears little resemblance to reality.

If you stick though this series, you’ll get to hear:

  • Why the case for a shoplifting surge looks so strong, but still falls flat.
  • How to figure out what’s real when you see conflicting data.
  • How we ended up in this weird and wacky world where libertarian VCs somehow end up agreeing with liberals like Nancy Pelosi and London Breed, and where the stance they all agree on is that we should be tough on a crime, a stance historically antithetical to both parties’ platforms.

At this point, you should have just about every epistemic red flag in your arsenal raised, and be prepared to read with immense skepticism. My own view here might not be correct, and it’s certainly not the entire story, but it is very likely better researched than anything else you’re reading on the topic.

Part 1: Failed Reforms; Skyrocketing Crime

On January 8th, 2020, Chesa Boudin was sworn in as the new District Attorney for San Francisco. Having campaigned on a platform of progressive reforms including decareration, refusal to assist ICE, and what can be generously described as a “long left-wing lineage”, he was the darling child of the radical-left, and the “soft on crime” boogeyman for the right.

Despite a variety of ambitious initiatives carried out by his office, crime in the city seemed to be on the rise. As one video after another went viral, the city’s merchandise seemed to be anyone’s for the taking. Sure enough, SFPD crime data confirms 23% increase from 2020 to 2021:

Looking at shoplifting in particular and zooming into a monthly view, we see the recent surge made evident with reported cases more than doubling from August to November:

Taking yet another angle and looking at the impact on stores, we can hear testimony after testimony about how uniquely bad San Francisco is. According to one Target spokesperson:

For the last few months, we’ve been experiencing a significant and alarming rise in theft and security incidents at our San Francisco stores, similar to reports from other retailers in the area.

And it’s not just empty claims. Across several major retail chains, stores have announced closures in San Francisco, pointing to elevated levels of shoplifting in the city. CVS is closing six of its stores across the city, and Walgreens announced that they’ll be closing five as well. As an article in The Guardian opens:

Walgreens announced the impending closure of five of its San Francisco stores. “Retail theft” had risen to unsustainable levels despite increased investment in security, the chain said. It was time to give up.

Bolstering all of the data on shoplifting and closures are a series of more politically charged arguments against the city’s liberal stance on policing. The aforementioned Wall Street Journal article explains that “thefts under $950 are effectively decriminalized”, removing the capacity for law enforcement to act as a deterrent against theft.

Looking at Chesa’s record more closely, we see that even of the shoplifting cases that get reported, relatively few are prosecuted. The Charging Rate–defined as the percent of cases brought to the DA’s office that result in charges–serves as a rough indicator of the DA’s “toughness” on crime. And for Chesa, the charges for theft have been considerably lighter than in past years. From the SF Chronicle’s analysis:

Given the decriminalization of theft, and further drop in charging rates, it’s no wonder cases are skyrocketing. Even further, Chesa’s critics argue that since store owners and employees know shoplifting is unlikely to result in consequences, they don’t even bother reporting most cases, meaning that we’re likely underestimating the rise in crime.

Overall, the case against Chesa, against San Francisco, and against left-leaning police reform more generally, looks pretty damning. This isn’t a one off incident. It’s not a series of random anecdotes. It’s a change in trends and averages backed by a solid explanatory theory and mounds of empirical evidence from the DA’s own office.

So that’s it. Case closed, right?


See you next time for part 2.

[1] See also Scott’s Chinese Robber Fallacy:

Most people think of stereotyping as “Here’s one example I heard of where the out-group does something bad,” and then you correct it with “But we can’t generalize about an entire group just from one example!” It’s less obvious that you may be able to provide literally one million examples of your false stereotype and still have it be a false stereotype. If you spend twelve hours a day on the task and can describe one crime every ten seconds, you can spend four months doing nothing but providing examples of burglarous Chinese – and still have absolutely no point.

If we’re really concerned about media bias, we need to think about Chinese Robber Fallacy as one of the media’s strongest weapons. There are lots of people – 300 million in America alone. No matter what point the media wants to make, there will be hundreds of salient examples. No matter how low-probability their outcome of interest is, they will never have to stop covering it if they don’t want to.

Every Grant is also a Bounty

The people you see have a reputation. Some of them are high-status, some are low-status. Some have their reputation conferred upon by a higher power, some have cultivated it for themselves.

What you might not realize is that reputation can be taken. Their reputation could one day be yours. When I look out over the internet, I don’t see faces. Just a turbulent ocean of bounties waiting to be harvested.

This is the art of the takedown piece. It can be something highly targeted like Guzey’s masterpiece “Why We Sleep” Is Riddled with Scientific and Factual Errors, or my own Austen Allred is Consistently Deceptive. It can be about misrepresenting research (see Stuart Ritchie on Johann Hari), or just a series of theoretical arguments. By criticizing someone more prominent than yourself, you sap their life force, attempt to take their reputation for your own, and challenge their high standing.

For the modern public intellectual, shelf life is nasty, brutish and short.

This comes to a particularly critical crux at the instance of fundraising. Someone who was previously unknown can overnight become the proxy for a powerful and respected figure. If you take money from Open Philanthropy, you are now fair game for anyone with a bone to pick with EA.

This ranges from ridiculous (If you ever appear within 3 degrees of Peter Thiel, you will one day appear in a tortured op-ed sentence trying to link you to Donald Trump [1].) to be perfectly legitimate. Punching down is wrong, but punching up is what democracy is made of. Once you accept money, especially if it’s from a prominent donor, there is now a target on your back.

Which in most cases, is good actually! That’s the market for ideas at work. So long as the critiques are intellectually honest, adversarial truth-finding is the best strategy we have for figuring out what’s right. As Agnes Callard once put it:

Socrates came up with a method for doing that. His method was — I call it the adversarial division of epistemic labor. If you and I both want to find the truth, we can actually divide up the process of finding the truth or acquiring knowledge into two subordinate jobs. You do one and I do one. If we each do our job, together we can inquire. That’s what I take Socratic philosophy to be doing, and the dialogues present that to us…

The reason why we have adversarial systems for pursuing certain goals is that there’s actually a tension inside the goal itself. The goal threatens to pull itself apart. In the case of justice, we have the goal that we want to convict the guilty, and we want to acquit the innocent. And those are not the same goal.

They pull apart a little bit because if you’re really, really, really committed to acquitting the innocent, you’ll be like, “Look, if there’s any doubt, if there’s any possible doubt of any kind, we should acquit.” Then you’re not going to get to the other goal. It’s that tension inside of the goal itself of justice that’s generating need for the adversarial system.

What I don’t entirely like is that to date, these bounties have been largely reputational. It’s fine to have some status on the line, but for someone in a grant making position, the bounty should be financial.

To take a concrete example, say Open Philanthropy gives a researcher $6M dollars. Presumably, they’ve already done a good amount of due diligence, and they believe that their research is very likely legitimate. But in theory, it might be wrong, and if so we should ask: what would be the value of discovering that error?

If you figured it out ahead of time: at least the $6M that you could save OP. Even if you figured it out after the fact, it would be worth a lot to know that we shouldn’t pump more money into this line of research. Plus, in both cases, the actual value of figuring out that a particular theory is wrong.

In a really ideal world, you might not just want this to be Open Philanthropy’s money. You might want the researcher themselves to say “It would be very valuable to me to know that I’ve made an error. It would both improve the quality of my work, and potentially save me a lot of time if you can show that a research direction is wrong. So please look at my work for errors, and if you find any, I’ll pay you money.”

That sounds absurdly earnest right? It could never happen in academia. But in the blogosphere, it’s not entirely unusual. For years, every Nintil article has opened with the line “Is this article wrong?” linking to a page where you could find bounties going up to $200 for correcting errors in his writing (he doubled it in 2019), and a Mistakes page where he keeps track of payouts. Gavin Leech has a similar page offering $1 to $50 for reporting errors.

Although $200 is laudable, it’s still a fairly small amount of money compared to grant sizes. Since we can’t really expect researchers to put up their own capital, this role should fall onto the grant maker themselves.

For example, I recently pledged to give a bunch of money to Slime Mold Time Mold. Accordingly, I will also place a bounty of their work, with more details in an upcoming post. If you prove that their work is fraudulent, poor science or otherwise wrong, I should pay you. Both because you’re saving me from making a bad grant, and because of the intrinsic value of any knowledge you produce in the course of writing a critique.

Another version of this is subsidized bets. A researcher makes a claim, they admit that they’re not entirely sure if it’s true, but they’re willing to assign concrete credence to it. So you find a partner on the other side, and commit publicly to payout if you’re wrong. Unsurprisingly, the authors above have pages detailing their betting history, as do others like Stephen Malina and Bryan Caplan.

But as with bounties, I don’t think we can expect researchers to bet as much as would be optimal. Grant makers who fund those researchers, and even more importantly, grant makers who rely on their research, should fund bets. For example, GiveWell relies on a lot of findings from development economics. They should ask the authors of those studies to make bets on the probability that their findings will replicate in the future, and fund those bets. (I.e. A study shows that deworming increases income by X%, GiveWell publicly offers to bet anyone $100,000 that deworming does actually increase income by at least X%.)

Nick Whitaker writes about Sane Charity, highlighting the issue that in general, nonprofits are not really accountable to anything except their own donors. There are no market forces, you can’t short a non-profit, etc. I think having donors, nonprofits and researchers place bounties, bets and open prediction markets on their beliefs would be a good start.


[1] See for a particularly egregious example, Torres’:

the billionaire libertarian and Donald Trump supporter Peter Thiel, who once gave the keynote address at an EA conference, has donated large sums of money to the Machine Intelligence Research Institute, whose mission to save humanity from superintelligent machines is deeply intertwined with longtermist values.