I’ve always admired Angela Davis. Her work has been revolutionary in shaping the fight for abolition, and she’s been a guiding light for those of us striving to imagine a world beyond prisons and systemic oppression. That’s why I was so eager to dive into Abolition Vol. 1: Politics, Practices, and Promises. I thought it would be groundbreaking—something that would push the movement forward in bold, new ways. But instead, I was left feeling disappointed and, honestly, let down.
The book felt like a repetition of what we already know—historic injustices, frameworks, and traumas that have been discussed extensively in abolitionist spaces. These are important conversations, but they aren’t new. With a title like Abolition Vol. 1, I expected something revolutionary—practical solutions, fresh insights, or even a daring reimagining of what abolition could look like in today’s world. Instead, much of the book relied on outdated data from the 90s, 2000s, and 2010s, and the big takeaways felt frustratingly limited.
One suggestion was to look at prison models in the Netherlands, like open and half-open facilities. Another was to appeal to human rights as a way to foster empathy in America. But these ideas felt tone-deaf given the realities of 2024, especially with the war on Gaza and the ongoing struggle for Palestinian liberation. Davis herself has written powerfully about the links between the prison-industrial complex, the military-industrial complex, and global racial oppression in the past. But here, those connections felt muted or ignored altogether.
Even the writing felt uncharacteristically flat. Words like “recapitulate” were used so often that it was hard not to notice, making the book feel stretched, like it was trying to hit a word count rather than deliver something impactful.
I don’t expect Angela Davis—or anyone, really—to have all the answers. But with a title like Abolition Vol. 1: Politics, Practices, and Promises, I hoped for something more. Something visionary. Something that felt like a roadmap to the future, rather than a recap of the past.
I still deeply respect Angela Davis and all that she’s contributed to this movement. She’s a giant in abolitionist thought, and her work has inspired countless people, including me. But this book didn’t meet the moment. It felt like a missed opportunity at a time when we desperately need bold, revolutionary ideas to guide us forward.
I hope future volumes in this series will provide the innovative, actionable ideas that this volume lacked. Angela Davis has always challenged us to imagine better futures, and I believe she still has the capacity to push us toward that vision in transformative ways.