The recent weeks have offered America more opportunities to examine the manner in which we as citizens patrol our society.

The media’s increasing observation of police misconduct, as well as politically-motivated rhetoric and limited investigative procedure conducted by both the Justice Department and local police bureaus, has created a public forum through which the conduct of those entrusted to protect and serve can be examined.

On Feb. 4 in New York City, police gunned down an unarmed West African immigrant by the name of Amadou Diallo. The police fired 41 bullets at Diallo, 19 of which struck him. The four officers have been indicted for second-degree murder.

Last Saturday, Adam Clark of Des Moines was shot and killed by police who allege Clark was brandishing a .22 caliber weapon. Friends and family of Clark dispute the allegation and the matter remains under investigation.

More and more incidents such as these sit upon our news pages and interrupt our television broadcasts.

In all manners of daily activity, whether it is patrol or investigation, members of any police force face what can only be defined as unforeseen dangers.

The uncertainty of approaching a car pulled over on an abandoned highway or questioning a group in a chaotic bar or populated street is daunting.

Police officers can make mistakes, deadly ones at times. Such misconduct has been motivated by racist or classist sentiments, as well as genuine miscalculation. Therefore, to lump such behavior into any one category would be foolish and counterproductive.

The real question is: What price are we willing to pay to increase the level of safety in our streets?

The real crime occurs when citizens become willing to excuse miscarriages like the Diallo and Clark cases stating, “Well, the police have a difficult job, and they can’t be right all the time.”

As those responsible for policing our police choose not to be critical, the dangers of mistaken identity, false arrest and improper detainment grow exponentially.

Of course, the trust that is the foundation for the police/citizen relationship is easier to extend if one does not exist on the periphery of society.

However, the question that is begged is the definition of “the outskirts of society.” Most will not weep if a drug dealer is mistakenly gunned down at a routine traffic stop in Jamaica-Queens at 4 o’clock in the morning. So perhaps we should ask why the level of outrage would be different had the deceased been a suburban, white protestant mother of four.

The alliance between the patroller and the patrolled vilifies a segment of the populace. Each of these instances involves an element of perception on the part of the officer forced to fire upon an individual.

Physical safety has always been a cornerstone of American civil society. Faith that men and women exist in our midst who are capable of intervening and subduing those who would do our daughters, mothers and wives harm is the reason we find the faith or hope to rise from bed and greet another day.

The converse of this sense of protection is the exclusionary principle through which these protective ends are served.

Middle-aged white men, for the most part, can feel comfortable refusing to identify with Diallo. Believing themselves immune to such miscarriage, they can grieve for his family’s loss while secretly rejoicing over the differences between the existence of those he loves and the man murdered.

I know this denial. I tell myself I am not the thug from Waterloo, driving my stripper girlfriend’s 1982 Dodge Omni at 2 a.m. with the smell of marijuana funneling out the windows and four gang-banging homies in the back seat. So I have nothing to worry about.

The problem with this logic is that regular citizens and police officers both have but a split second to judge whether or not I am that person — and therein lives the dilemma.

Beyond all the anti-racist, come together, love thy neighbor, embrace everyone rhetoric, we are still a society based on division: Criminals verses law-biding citizens, good guys verses bad guys, “us” verses “them.”

I suppose what should scare us all is no one seems to be able to tell the difference anymore. And that is dangerous.

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Zuri Jerdon is a graduate student in English from Cincinnati.