Silencing the Streets: From Covid Exceptions to Police Crackdowns

Roxana Pessoa Cavalcanti, Deanna Dadusc, Raph Schlembach and Lambros Fatsis

Previously published by the Centre for Spatial, Environmental and Cultural Politics, University of Brighton

As news of the kidnapping and murder of Sarah Everard by a Metropolitan Police Officer became a headline story, a vigil held in her memory was violently suppressed by the very same police force on Clapham Common in London. Both incidents should shock us, but they should occasion no surprise. The world may have suddenly woken up to the reality of violence against women — as it belatedly grappled with police racism after last summer’s #BLM protests — but institutionalised misogyny and police violence are nothing new.

Rather than representing an exception, these events confirmed once more that police violence is not the result of “bad apples” of “isolated accidents”. Migrant women, Black women, women of colour and those who are non-normatively gendered are subject to  racist policing and patriarchal violence every day. For decades, they have been saying that the police are not the answer to gendered and racist violence, but part of the problem. The strength of this political moment — however delayed — is that many (carceral) feminist groups who still addressed the police as a solution to gendered violence and who called for more security, more police and more prisons can now learn from the demands and struggles of social movements and community groups that call for the abolition of the police and the criminal legal system as a whole.

These new alliances, coalitions and the protests they inspire are powerful, but they are already targeted and pursued as “dangerous” and “threatening” by the state and its law enforcement institutions through the introduction of the UK government’s Policing, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Bill. Rightly nicknamed the “crackdown bill” by those who oppose it, this 296-page document parades its anti-protest stance with pride — raising concerns over its illiberal, undemocratic and discriminatory nature from leading human rights organisations, charities, campaigners and more than 700 legal scholars who (rightly) fear that that aspects of the current emergency powers included in the Coronavirus Act are here to stay. Introduced as a piece of legislation that gives new protections and powers to the police, this new Bill allows senior police officers and the Home Secretary to restrict protest activity in unprecedented ways, while also criminalising the living circumstances of Gypsy, Roma and Traveller communities.

When Protesting Became a Crime

Under the Policing, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Bill, the police can now impose conditions on static assemblies, including timings and approved noise levels, even when the protest is held by just a single person. It will now become a crime to fail to follow police restrictions that protesters “ought” to have known and it will become an offence to intentionally or recklessly cause public nuisance as part of a protest, however vague or ill-defined this phrase is. Such authoritarian crackdowns on the right to protest are hardly unexpected and entirely consistent with the government’s “law and order” agenda, whose enmity towards protest has been expressed in public statements that described the most recent wave of the Black Lives Matter protests as ‘dreadful’ and labelled Extinction Rebellion activists as ‘criminals’ who ‘disrupt our free society’. Such inflammatory remarks could be ignored as mere reactionary ramblings, yet they threaten to become law. A recent HM Inspectorate of Constabulary, Fire & Rescue Services (HMICFRS) report, which accompanies and complements the Policing, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Bill, describes ‘activity that seeks to bring about political or social change but does so in a way that involves unlawful behaviour or criminality’ as ‘aggravated activism’. Adopting a Counter Terrorism Policing definition of activism as a form of domestic extremism, such language signals an era of renewed expansion of surveillance on political and social movements.

The criminalisation of dissent that such new legislation further enables is an assault on everyone’s protest rights. The violent suppression of last weekend’s vigils, however, reminds us that men and women are policed differently, as a national study on anti-fracking protests revealed. Scenes of police officers barging into a crowd of mourners, throwing women to the ground and making arrests — as eyewitnesses report — are of a piece with groping and the pulling of clothing to reveal women’s breasts by police officers. A public inquiry is currently investigating the extent to which secretive undercover policing units permitted police officers to deceive female activists into long-term, intimate relationships. Those women who have found that they had been targeted for such operations after their partners’ sudden departures from their lives have long accused the police of institutional sexism and are seeking redress. The practice of having sexual relationships with women in protest groups was apparently so common that some of the victims have spoken of officers conspiring to rape.

As a group of Criminologists at the University of Brighton, we are deeply concerned and angered by tactics used to clamp down on the women-led vigil in Victoria Gardens by the local police force. Neither the statement from Sussex Police, nor the silence from Sussex Police and Crime Commissioner Katy Bourne fill us with confidence that lessons will be learned, or decision-makers will be held accountable. It comes as no surprise to us that further protests have been held outside Brighton police station. Many messages and notes left at the temporary memorial to Sarah Everard in Brighton reveal the deep-seated distrust of policing solutions to male violence. “Police don’t protect”, reads one. “You can’t trust the police anymore”, says another. And “more police powers is never the answer”. As many claimed: “We do not want your protection – just stop killing us”.

Policing Protests and the Politics of Disposability

Making sense of these events, urges us to set up before us a broader canvas for a better understanding of policing and violence against women than conventional portraits of the matter allow. It is worth remembering that the protest vigils were met with police violence because they were against police violence. Such attempts to control, limit, silence and dilute dissenting voices is part of a long process of serving, protecting, maintaining and enforcing an unequal social order that is marked by hierarchies of gender, class, sexuality and “race”. What the policing against last weekend’s vigil and the introduction of the crackdown Bill as an extension of police powers and emergency government reveal, is an attempt to dismantle political opposition and social movements. This political logic exposes the State’s hostile relationship to those who are racialised, gendered and classed as subordinate by ensuring that they feel the full force of the law. Such politics of disposability, or what Achille Mbembe calls ‘necropolitics’ encourage us to understand policing, state violence and gender-based violence as interrelated. Defining ‘who matters and who does not, who is disposable and who is not’, as Mbembe notes, reminds us that the social order we are educated and socialised into is racial, as it is gendered and classed. To maintain such an order, an order maintenance institution is required, and the police are happy to oblige. This helps explain why those who are policed and treated with violence; physical, psychological or structural are Black people, those who are non-normatively gendered and those who are classed as a precarious and disposable workforce.

As we grapple with the implications of the current moment and the intersectional thinking that it requires of us, it is imperative to recognise, as the Combahee River Collective Statement compels us to do four decades after its publication, that ‘the liberation of all oppressed peoples necessitates the destruction of the political-economic systems of capitalism and imperialism as well as patriarchy’. Rethinking our current political moment, therefore, requires us to think about capitalism, imperialism and patriarchy as political economic and cultural systems of oppression that share a common language, ethic and purpose. The policing of protests against police violence therefore illustrates what policing is, what it does, who does it do it to, and who does it do it for; urging us to understand policing as an order maintenance institution that serves and protects a social order that is racialised as “white”, gendered as male or divided into heteronormative binaries and classed according to economic status. If we are to understand policing, we also ought to understand state violence. And to understand state violence, we need to understand that state formation itself is violent, depending as it does on an extractive and repressive logic that is imposed and therefore coercive by its very nature. And this extractive and repressive logic is disproportionately exercised on those who are racialised, gendered and classed as subordinate. As the State proceeds by arming itself with extra powers, empowering ourselves with the knowledge that “toxic masculinity kills” and that “police don’t keep us safe” is the first step towards making our demands heard and remaking the world we want to live in by mobilising our energies to create the conditions for the abolition of interlocking systems of oppression.

Originally published by the Centre for Spatial, Environmental and Cultural Politics, University of Brighton

Who’s Afraid of Critical Race Theory Today?

Critical Race Theory was launched as an analytical framework to expose institutionally racist social structures. Instead of being embraced, however, it currently finds itself attacked by various governments around the world

image of author

Lambros Fatsis is Lecturer in Criminology at the University of Brighton and the co-author (with Mark Carrigan) of the forthcoming The Public and Their Platforms: Public Sociology in an Era of Social Media and Policing the Pandemic: How Public Health Becomes Public Order (with Melayna Lamb).

Two decades ago, a group of distinguished American legal scholars like Derrick Bell, Patricia Williams, Cheryl Harris, Mari Matsuda, Kimberlé Crenshaw, Richard Delgado and Charles Lawrence founded Critical Race Theory (CRT). Introduced as a theoretical perspective and an innovative mode of scholarship – blending academic research with storytelling – CRT aimed at exposing institutionally racist social structures that routinely produce unjust outcomes for people of colour, and especially Black people. As such, CRT was unsurprisingly opposed by those who felt attacked by it. Derrick Bell’s classic essay: Who’s Afraid of Critical Race Theory?  gives us a hint, as does Patricia Williams’ observation about how ‘statements alleging oppression sound like personal attacks, declarations of war’.

Bell and Williams committed those words to paper in the early 1990s. Their analysis, however, loses none of its resonance today as recent attacks on CRT demonstrate. It therefore seems appropriate to ask: Who’s afraid of Critical Race Theory today? As examples from the US, the UK and France illustrate, there are good reasons to fear those who fear CRT – especially when they want to silence it through inflammatory rhetoric and punitive policy-making that reveals a reactionary stance towards social justice, that is as alarming as it is dangerous.

In the US, a recent White House memo described CRT as ‘divisive, false, and demeaning propaganda’ that ‘is contrary to all we stand for as Americans and should have no place in the Federal government’. In disconcertingly McCarthyist language, the same document instructs all Federal agencies to:

‘identify all contracts or other agency spending related to any training on “critical race theory”, “white privilege,” or any other training or propaganda effort that teaches or suggests either (1) that the United States is an inherently racist or evil country or (2) that any race or ethnicity is inherently racist or evil. In addition, all agencies should begin to identify all available avenues within the law to cancel any such contracts and/or to divert Federal dollars away from these unAmerican propaganda training sessions’.

In the UK, the government’s Minister for Equalities, Kemi Badenoch, also railed against CRT – emphatically declaring that ‘this Government stands unequivocally against Critical Race Theory’ and stressing that ‘any school which teaches these elements of critical race theory as fact or which promotes partisan political views […] without offering a balanced treatment of opposing views is breaking the law’. So consumed was Badenoch in her anger at CRT that she suggested that bestselling anti-racist authors like Reni Eddo-Lodge and Robin DiAngelo ‘actually want a segregated society’. In France, the Minister of Education, Jean-Michel Blanquer, claimed that ‘indigenist, racialist, and “decolonial” ideologies,’ imported from North America, were responsible for ‘conditioning’ the violent extremist who assassinated school teacher, Samuel Paty, last October.

All this could be dismissed as mere authoritarian posturing, yet these histrionic outbursts become translated into policy. In the UK, government guidelines on school curricula that target ‘divisive or victim narratives that are harmful to British society’ attest to that. As does the assignment of equality roles to people whose views undermine the agendas that they are supposed to prioritise. Consider the appointment of a Race Equality chief (Tony Sewell) who downplays the reality of institutional racism. Or perhaps the head of the No. 10 policy unit (Munira Mirza), who also considers institutional racism a ‘myth’ and thinks of race disparity audits as ‘dangerous and divisive’. Last but not least, think about the new chair of the Equality and Human Rights Commission (David Goodhart), who staunchly defends ‘hostile environment’ immigration policies, and ‘white self-interest’. Such a line-up of “equality-bashing” equality chiefs is hardly accidental or a transient deviation from the norm. It personifies how governments think and act when their interests are threatened by calls for fairness and justice.

It is little wonder that CRT became the target of a witch-hunt, in an attempt to de-legitimise it and avoid addressing the substance of its critical analysis – out of fear that it might expose how social inequality is normalised, legitimised and institutionalised through ideas, people and decision-making processes. The hostility against CRT therefore starts making sense when social justice is perceived as dangerous and threatening to political agendas that depend on inequality to preserve self-interest. Worse still, this brand of political conservatism (authoritarian populism redux?) does not simply oppose interventions to promote equality and social justice. It institutionalises its objection to such interventions by dismissing them as ‘ideological’ and declaring them ‘illegal’.

Ironically, such an irrational fear of CRT bolsters confidence in it as a critical framework which helps us analyse why and how a government might attack Black or anti-racist scholarship as ‘ideological’ and ‘illegal’, when that same government acts in an ideologically-driven and unlawful manner. Examples include: denying institutional racism despite ample evidence to the contrary (see, e.g. here and here), ignoring scientific advice on public health emergencies, introducing police powers against evidence of their discriminatory outcomes, deriding ‘activist lawyers’ and ‘left-wing criminologists’, acting unlawfully through the prorogation of parliament in the heyday of Brexit, breaking international law with its internal market bill and passing Covid-19 regulations by ministerial decree without parliamentary scrutiny.

The cumulative effect of such recklessness indicates a haughty contempt for evidence, the rule of law, academic freedom, dissent and accountability. Seen in this context, crusades against CRT sound like frustrated screams at reality, instead of attempts to listen to the evidence, respect the law or engage with counterbalancing arguments. Despite all the clamour about CRT dominating school curricula – which is unfounded – it is the single-minded opposition to CRT that proves to be one-sided, thereby ‘promoting divisive or victim narratives that are harmful to British society’ to use the government’s own wording against itself. Fear of CRT by those who are challenged by it, appears more dangerous and threatening that CRT could ever be. Political rhetoric and policymaking that is based on wilful blindness and angry reaction to embarrassing facts runs the risk of (mis)educating entire generations of citizens, by desensitising us to social injustice. Instead of sharpening critical thinking skills and promoting ethical conduct, the “war” against CRT deliberately misleads, obfuscates and frustrates the development of truth-seeking and truth-telling citizenship – through subterfuge and bluff that attempts to convince us that calling out policies that create harm and victimise people promotes victimhood, instead of highlighting social injustice.

Resisting such desperate attempts to mute CRT to inaudibility, it seems to appropriate to end this article by amplifying its message through the voice of my favourite CRT scholar; Patricia Williams. In The Alchemy of Race and Rights, Williams buttresses ‘truth-denying truisms’ of colour-blindness, or post-raciality, by reminding us of the ‘power of racism as status quo’. According to Williams ‘it is deep, angry, eradicated from view, but strong enough’ to make up ‘its own breed of narrower, simpler, but hypnotically powerful rhetorical truths’ that ‘that set up angry, excluding boundaries’ tempting people to ‘sink so deeply into the authoritarianism of their own worldview’. In just a handful of phrases plucked from a book that brims with eloquence and insight, CRT – in Williams’ hands – emerges as the thoughtful, considered antidote to the noisy bullishness of CRT’s attackers. One may disagree with Williams’ analysis, or reject CRT altogether. Judged against the baseless pronouncements of those who wish to suppress it, however, CRT succeeds at unmasking the ideological commitments of those who whip themselves up into rage to avoid criticism; blaming scholars for pointing out the divisions that their political agendas create.

Dr. Lambros Fatsis, Lecturer in Criminology, University of Brighton

Twitter: @lfatsis

Copyright: Photo by Lan Nguyen from Pexels

Eight Minutes and Forty-Six Seconds

Police militarization enables racial oppression

Paul Edwards

Paul Edwards is a Criminology PhD Researcher based at Liverpool John Moores Universities Faculty of Arts Professional and Social Studies & School of Justice Studies. Research interests include: Popular and cultural criminology, illicit markets, organised crime and critical criminological theory.

 

“These streets will speak for themselves”

(Dave Chappelle – 8:46 Netflix)

The murder of George Floyd shocked the world and again put the reality of living in the United States, especially as a BAME citizen on the global stage. During a global pandemic, millions around the country bravely marched, protested for justice and declared their message ‘Black Lives Matter’. In response the US government deployed its heavily militarised police to face them and later, National Guard units lined city streets: rifles, batons and shields in hand.

This also inspired protests globally: in the UK, France and Belgium people came out in support of the BLM movement. Nations woke to populations whose anger was clear to see and statues of former slave traders (representing the historical roots of black oppression) were ripped down. So, in light of recent events this blog will focus on the current state of policing in the United States and seek to address the questions: Where has policing gone wrong? How policing relates to concerns about racial tensions? and How might policing change?

To answer the first question, it is not hard to see that the trust in the police and the wider justice system is seriously eroded in large sections of the US. Thus, this section will focus on the loss faith in policing in the US and how it adds racial inequality and oppression.

This subject is ‘Militarisation’, which Kraska (2007) notes as the traditional distinctions between military/police, war/law enforcement and when internal/external security becomes blurred. Additionally, Kraska states that Militarism in its most basic sense, is an ideology focused on the best means to solve problems. It is a set of beliefs, values, and assumptions that stress the use of force and threat of violence. This direction towards militarisation has been tracked down to its beginnings most impactfully with the terrorist event of 9/11 (Dunlap, 2001). However they have also been documented as early as the US involvement, both abroad and domestically, in drug control efforts in the mid-to-late 1980s (Kraska, 1993) .

The consequences of militarisation are vast, including hyper-violent, no-knock raids. Debates have been raised to question if these are unconstitutional and breach local police powers. In the US, these types of raids go head to head with the second amendment, as cases have come to light where officers and citizens have been shot as a result, see example here: Breonna-Taylor-shooting. These usually result in expensive litigation judgments but they still exist as a result of militarisation, with questions being raised on the targeting of innocent individuals (like the case above) because of their race (Balko, 2006).

Opinions voiced in online platforms, suggest the policing community see their job as an ‘us vs. them’ scenario. This is best described by youtuber Wraglerstar who shares his opinions about the change in the policing, specifically from the 80’s to the present day. In this he describes the beginnings of the militarisation of police and the change (notably in the city) where police officers seem to become more ‘special forces operator looking’ as well as describing this changed mentality. For Wraglerstar, this changed mentality in policing was experienced after being pulled over aggressively by heavily armed officers, assaulted and even being harassed by the same officers after the incident. Going further he points out that ‘no one is inviting these guys to the local barbeque’ because their aggressive nature is not welcome. This is unlike  the past, where police and other services would be invited to ‘birthdays’ and ‘thanksgiving’ get togethers to tighten community bonds, morals and trust. Therefore, this demonstrates that community policing is, as stated above, seriously eroded.

In short this change in mentality can be said to be due to militarisation as Kraska (2007) noted that it causes a cultural shift to martial language, appearance, beliefs, and values. An example of the culture can be seen in the Punisher Skull used by police in the US specifically, even though the use of this in the Marvel comics represents the failure of the police and justice system. What this has caused, is a complete failure of the purpose of the policing model in the US with the community aspect of policing being totally thrown out of the window. Regardless of how many community outreach teams departments police have, the community they serve is fearful and disconnected.

Turning to the second question, it is obvious that the militarisation of the police only serves to widen the racial tensions in communities and enables those officers who have a racist mindset to exercise their views in a more hyper-violent way. Policing as a whole depends on communities trusting those who are there to protect and serve. However, if the police themselves are not part of the community, they have no vested interest in that community. This is not helped by officers who are drafted in from other parts of the country and do not understand the cultures and traditions of the neighborhood.

Thirdly, the militarisation of the police needs to be rethought and stripped back. The communities they serve are not the enemy, they are citizens who expect to be treated as innocent until proven guilty. They are people who want to welcome in officers to their shop, chat to them on the street and invite them to cookouts. But they will not invite people they see as a threat, who are violent to them and kill people on the street through excessive force. Extensive training is needed and when an officer is seen to be using excessive force, officers around need be equipped to challenge without fear of backlash.

Perhaps the time has come to question more deeply how to police a predominantly armed nation? It is necessary to question why patrol officers need to be seen in neighborhoods patrolling in camouflage pants and why at a peaceful protest is there armored SWAT trucks and officers with rifles at the ready. This only harbors a culture that looks at everything like a battle to be fought.

To conclude, it is obvious how the militarization enables an overuse of power and potentially allows those with a racist mindset to fulfil their prejudice and this needs to change. Policing needs to change, whether this is stripping departments back to people who come from the communities, or other solutions, it is critical-community style policing restored to maintain civilian oversight. Other solutions like defunding the police may be a slippery and dangerous slope however and may lead to private security solutions (as seen in the UK and some US states) and this needs to be avoided, as this may lead to the loss of trust and vulnerability as demonstrated in South Africa. With this it is critical solutions are looked for, debated and critical thought is needed from all sides. This blog ends on one thought, that the police (and the incredibly difficult job they do) are needed but the senseless deaths need to end.

 

Below are links to recommended viewing:

The Future of Policing in America – Understanding & Changing Police Training: Gracie-Breakdown

Racial oppression and community by Kimberly Jones

Netflix 8:46 – Police brutality and lived experience by Dave Chappelle

Netflix Collection – ‘Black Storytelling’ Including Ava DuVernays ‘When They See Us’

 

Contact

Paul Edwards,  Liverpool John Moores University

Email: P.Edwards@2020.ljmu.ac.uk

Twitter: @P_Edwards8

Images: courtesy of the author