The national concern over police accountability and excessive force spawned the trend of what police call “body-worn cameras,” or body cams. These have been in demand especially in jurisdictions where trust in law enforcement has suffered, and where the affinity between police and the community is weak.

That’s been less the case in Honolulu, which does have a good record of “community policing.” This city has its problems from time to time, of course, but there’s much less of a disconnect. This is especially true along demographic lines: The police force basically reflects the public that it serves, more so than in cities where they clash on a regular basis.

So, even if video documentation of police interactions with the public is a worthy addition to policing resources, the drive for the Honolulu Police Department to launch the program may have been less intense than in places where the battle lines are more firmly drawn.

HPD now is rolling out its body cam program gradually, first in Downtown and then to Waikiki, East Oahu, Kapolei and other neighborhoods.

Slow and steady seems the best approach, given the steep learning curve for officers needing to master the gear and protocols, and the steep costs of acquiring it, as well. Just for the current year, $2.5 million has been budgeted for the program. This includes an annual outlay of $1.5 million for digital video storage alone.

After a pilot program tested the system over 30 days last fall, the initial contingent of about 30 officers on the department’s second watch, which includes daytime patrols, have begun using the cameras as part of their uniform, and operating them according to HPD’s adopted policy. Over the course of two years about 1,200 uniformed patrol officers will be equipped.

It’s the storage costs that police departments nationally have found most challenging; Indiana and Connecticut are among the states that decided to abandon their programs for that reason.

Controlling that seems to be one of the goals of the HPD policy. The devices are not physically obtrusive to the officer, weighing only 4-5 ounces. But the department doesn’t want a lot of excess video taking up expensive space, so it records a 30-second loop that keeps overwriting itself until the officer has a public encounter, when he or she generally taps the camera on.

But not always. Officers won’t be recording under certain sensitive circumstances, such as in child abuse and sexual assault cases, when a witness might be exposed, or anywhere there’s an expectation of privacy — in the bathroom or locker room, for example.

Police must report each public encounter and video, and note their explanation for why certain interactions were not recorded. Even if the video-or-not decision is defensible by policy, there are sure to be operational errors — cameras could switch off accidentally.

The Honolulu Police Commission is the watchdog agency that must provide oversight — and it appears poised to do so. Chairwoman Loretta Sheehan said the panel plans to review the program performance during the state police commission conference, set for next April on Oahu.

Sheehan said that the panel will be weighing the benefits of added evidence against the costs. For example, she said, a video could document a domestic violence case so that it would be easier to charge and convict suspects. The lack of such evidence has been a reason these cases are hard to prosecute, she said.

There may be intangible effects worth considering, as well.

The knowledge that a confrontation is being recorded could serve as a deterrent against bad behavior. In this tech-imbued society, it could fade from public awareness. Conversely, it also could impel people to listen to their better angels. Let’s work toward that outcome.