Stopping police brutality is a start. But it's not the same thing as making policing effective for communities who have traditionally been ignored. | | | | Alyssa Rosenberg on culture and politics |
| | | Law officers stand on a street during protests in Baton Rouge on Sunday. (Shannon Stapleton/Reuters) The last week and a half have been enormously wrenching, and I’ve felt a strong inclination to step back and make space for voices other than mine. I’m deep into the work on a project, to be published later this fall, that will chart how Hollywood has portrayed the police over the past century. But that work isn’t finished yet, and I’ve had a hard time trying to weigh in and settle any of our more ephemeral cultural debates about things like the “Ghostbusters” reboot. Instead, I’ve been watching, reading and listening. And one thing I’ve been mildly heartened by is hearing the testimony of conservative friends who are speaking out on what they’ve come to believe about race and policing in America. “In the era of Facebook Live and smart phones, it’s hard to come to any conclusion other than the fact that police brutality toward African-Americans is a pervasive problem that has been going on for generations. Seriously, absent video proof, how many innocent African-Americans have been beaten or killed over the last hundred years by the police — with little or no media coverage or scrutiny?” Matt Lewis wrote in a widely-distributed piece last week, acknowledging that “I was brought up to reflexively believe the police.” Pieces like Matt’s and others have left me thinking about the different degrees of relationships it’s possible for people to have with the police, and all the steps on the ladder we’ll have to climb for communities and the departments who are supposed to serve them to reach a place that is meaningful and honorable. |
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Not living in imminent fear of the police is not the same thing as feeling that you can actively look to the police as a source of safety and comfort. Eliminating terror from communities of color is necessary. But it is not the same thing as solving crimes that occur in those communities quickly and effectively, and demonstrating that the people who live in those communities are worthy of the full protection of and respect from the law. As Jill Leovy argues in “Ghettoside,” a book that ought to be included in every discussion of crime and policing today, it isn’t enough for police departments to stop brutalizing people of color. They also have to show that they can combat crime effectively without harassing the people they are ostensibly supposed to serve. “White people ‘had the law,’ to quote a curious phrase that crops up in historic sources. Black people didn’t. Formal law impinged on them only for purposes of control, not protection,” Leovy writes in “Ghettoside.” “When people are stripped of legal protection and placed in desperate straits, they are more, not less, likely to turn on each other. Lawless settings are terrifying; if people can do whatever they want to each other, there are always enough bullies to make it ugly.” In other words, the trust that Lewis says he used to reflexively grant the police is a luxury not simply because it meant he could assume he wouldn’t be harassed. It meant that he felt confident that he would be protected by the law. Ending police brutality and harassment is the beginning of the work to restore police departments to the role they’re supposed to play in America. But for all that step feels monumentally hard, it’s only the beginning. |
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