Some had colorful piles of bagged dog poop stacked around the signposts, while others were perfectly clean. What was striking was the absence of in-between cases: There were either a lot of bags or none at all.

I don’t think this observation is just about laziness; I think it’s about social norms.

With plenty of people around, dog owners are more likely to dispose of their waste. But when one bag is left behind, it sends a different kind of signal: that leaving it is acceptable. Soon, many others follow suit.

Norms are powerful. We usually don’t stand in line because a law requires it; we do so because the social cost of cutting is high (although Lagoon Amusement Park has had to post a few queueing rules. Apparently, dizzy people are less respectful of social norms).

As Nobel laureate Elinor Ostrom showed in her research on shared resources like water in the arid West, strong norms can sustain cooperation even without government enforcement. When those norms erode, whether in a community managing scarce water, a group of hikers keeping a trail clean, or a neighborhood watching over litter and vandalism, behavior can change quickly, and sometimes for the worse.

Social norms are at the heart of the “broken windows” theory of crime, introduced in 1982 by social scientists James Q. Wilson and George L. Kelling. The theory claims that small signs of disorder, like broken building windows or graffiti, send a message that rules no longer matter, which makes bigger crimes more likely. A single broken window, like a single poop bag left at a trailhead, signals that neglect is tolerated, making others more likely to follow suit.

Not everyone agrees with the theory, but its core hypothesis is clear: what we observe shapes what we think is acceptable.

Political violence appears to be rising, and Utah isn’t immune. On June 14, during the “No Kings” protest in downtown Salt Lake City, a peacekeeping volunteer shot a man who brought a rifle to the demonstration. A protester died, and the circumstances remain unclear, but the tragedy shows how quickly norms can collapse.

It’s a local reflection of broader trends: multiple assassination attempts on President Donald Trump, the killings of Minnesota state representatives, and a deadly antisemitic attack in Boulder to name just a few.

Can this troubling rise in violence be explained, at least in part, by changing social norms? Maybe.

Twenty-four percent of Americans say political violence is “understandable.” That response is itself a signal that the lines of acceptable behavior may be shifting. If so, it’s not only the violent events themselves that should worry us, but also the social permission they reveal.

Just as broken windows tell a neighborhood that disorder is tolerated, polls like this suggest that political aggression is no longer seen as entirely beyond the pale.

What counts as “peaceful protest” is also changing. Blocking traffic has become a common tactic. While many view it as peaceful, and it may be legally protected in some cases, it also inflicts direct harm on bystanders and normalizes disruption as a form of expression.

Similarly, the open display of rifles at protests is often presented as lawful and peaceful too. Yet for many, the implied threat changes the atmosphere, discouraging dialogue and heightening fear.

Both of these practices blur the boundaries of what society accepts as nonviolent. They may fall within constitutional rights, but they also shape the norms that sustain a healthy democracy. Norms, after all, can play a role just as important as constitutions or statutes in a thriving society.

Some might see this as a call for the suppression of activism, just as some misinterpret broken windows theory as a call for “zero tolerance.” But that misses the point. These ideas are reminders of how norms shape our society for the better.

In fact, sustaining norms that reduce political violence isn’t just good for peaceful order; it’s a necessary condition for effective activism in a democracy.

Gavin Roberts is an associate professor of economics and chair of the economics department at Weber State University. He is a recipient of the Gordon Tullock Prize from the Public Choice Society and regularly shares his research locally, nationally and internationally. This commentary is provided through a partnership with Weber State. The views expressed by the author do not necessarily represent the institutional values or positions of the university.