Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. The quiet breath of that world lingers through Sandy Hudson’s Defund, a book that is less a text to be consumed than an insistence to be wrestled with. The ideas here do not leave you untouched. They press forward. They agitate. They shake loose the comfort of believing we already know what safety is and where it comes from.
Hudson’s central claim is stark: police do not create safety. They never have. They were not built for that. They were built to enforce hierarchy, to control labor, to guard property, to quell dissent, to protect some by punishing others. If safety exists anywhere in our communities, it exists despite policing, not because of it. And if we want to build something better, we must turn our gaze away from reform, away from another round of cameras, bans, and trainings, and toward defunding—toward moving resources away from the violent apparatus of policing and into the kinds of structures that make communities truly safe.
This argument is not brand new, and Hudson is quick to remind us of that. Black thinkers, organizers, and communities have been making it for decades. But Defund arrives in a moment where the cracks are visible to a wider public. The uprisings of 2020 forced millions to see what had been too easy to ignore: the footage of knees on necks, the shattering glass of militarized responses to peaceful protest, the truth that “protect and serve” is not a universal promise but a selective one. What Hudson offers is a guide through that moment—a map of how we got here, what policing really does, why reform has failed, and what alternatives already exist.
One of Hudson’s strengths is her clarity in tracing history’s through-lines. She reminds us that policing in the U.S. and Canada is not a neutral invention but one born from slave patrols, from colonial occupation, from the violent enforcement of segregation and dispossession. To think that these roots can be papered over with diversity initiatives or body-worn cameras is to mistake the rot for the fruit. She is unsparing in showing that the very DNA of policing is animated by racial hierarchy and class control.
This is not simply a matter of the past. At every point in the book, Hudson yokes history to the present. The Cop City project in Atlanta is not just a training facility; it is a continuation of the plantation and the prison farm that occupied the same ground, a material through-line of domination written on the land. The killing of Rayshard Brooks, the repression of the Stop Cop City protesters, the assassination of Tortuguita—all these incidents reveal a continuity, a refusal to let communities breathe freely, a refusal to cede power. Hudson is relentless in showing that the violence is not incidental but structural.
If the history chapters disabuse us of the idea that policing was ever about safety, the chapters on reform disabuse us of the hope that policing can be tamed. Reform is the well-polished wheel on which abolitionist hopes are meant to spin endlessly: body cameras, de-escalation trainings, bans on chokeholds, civilian oversight boards, new policies on use of force. Again and again, Hudson details how these measures are introduced with fanfare, hailed as breakthroughs, only to prove toothless in practice. The bans are circumvented, the cameras malfunction, the oversight bodies lack power, the trainings vanish under the pressure of ingrained culture.
Her point is not that reform is insufficient. It is that reform is misdirected. It presumes policing is fundamentally good but badly managed, when in fact policing is fundamentally violent and functioning as designed. Reform, in Hudson’s telling, is a strategy of delay, a political anesthetic meant to quiet public anger while leaving intact the very institution at issue. To believe in reform is to believe that minor adjustments can cure a disease that is terminal by nature.
The most powerful sections of Defund are not just critiques but reimaginings. Hudson asks us to define safety and security anew. Safety, she suggests, is the condition in which one can be their full self without fear of harm. Security is the sustainability of that condition. Neither is guaranteed by armed patrols. Both are guaranteed, in wealthy communities, by resources: stable housing, access to healthcare, reliable income, schools that nurture rather than punish, spaces for leisure and care.
The logic is deceptively simple: if these conditions make the wealthy safe, why not extend them to everyone? Why must poor communities be managed with armed force rather than with the same preventative supports? Hudson points to examples already at work: Portland Street Response, Albuquerque Community Safety, Toronto’s Community Crisis Service. These are not utopian sketches. They are real programs, staffed by medics, social workers, community health workers, responding to thousands of calls that would otherwise go to police—and resolving them with compassion rather than violence.
Here the book pulses with hope. Hudson insists that we do not need all the answers before we begin. Every institution we take for granted—schools, hospitals, transit systems—was built incrementally, imperfectly, and revised over time. Why should safety be different? To demand a perfect replacement plan before we dismantle policing is a rhetorical trap, a way of preserving the status quo by demanding the impossible. Instead, Hudson calls for experimentation, iteration, and courage.
But Defund is not naïve about backlash. Hudson documents the ferocity with which police unions, politicians, and even courts have sought to crush the defund movement. From the repression of protests in 2020 to the RICO charges against Atlanta activists, she shows that the state is willing to bend law and democracy itself to preserve policing. Her afterword, written in late 2024, underscores the point: the killing of Sonya Massey after she called police for help, the crackdown on student protesters demanding divestment from Israel’s war on Gaza, the election of Donald Trump with promises of more funding and more repression. The lesson is sobering. Not only is reform inadequate, but the defenders of policing are willing to escalate to maintain their power.
Hudson’s prose is accessible yet forceful. She writes with the cadence of someone who has been in the streets and in the archives, who has seen both the statistics and the funerals. She weaves case studies with policy analysis, history with personal reflection. The book does not attempt to hide its commitments; it embraces them. That honesty makes it compelling.
There are moments, however, where the breadth of ambition stretches thin. Some sections, particularly on gender-based violence and the mechanics of large-scale policy transitions, could have used more depth. Critics will seize on these gaps as evidence of naivety, though it seems truer to say they reveal the immensity of the task. One book cannot provide the entire architecture of a new world. It can only insist that the architecture must be built.
In reading across reviews—from professional critics to community readers—there is clear admiration for Hudson’s clarity and courage. Many celebrate her ability to make abolitionist ideas legible without diluting their radicalism. Even skeptics concede her documentation of police abuse is powerful. The disagreements turn on feasibility: can non-police alternatives truly scale? Can violence interruption and housing-first approaches reduce violent crime in the short term? Hudson answers by pointing to existing models and urging us to experiment further. For some, that is persuasive. For others, it is not enough.
What lingers after closing Defund is less a set of policy prescriptions than a shift in imagination. Hudson forces the reader to confront the possibility that what we have long treated as inevitable—armed police as the guarantors of safety—is neither inevitable nor particularly effective. She forces us to notice that every reform cycle has left bodies on the ground. She dares us to believe that we can do better, not by tinkering at the margins but by investing in the resources that actually sustain life.
And so, to read Defund is to be confronted with a choice. Do we cling to the familiarity of reform, knowing it has failed, because we fear the unknown? Or do we take the leap toward prevention, care, and community-based safety, even if the road is not yet fully paved? Hudson is clear about her answer. The question is whether we will make it ours.
Defund is not flawless. At times it is more a manifesto than a manual, more moral insistence than technical blueprint. But that, too, is its strength. It refuses to be hemmed in by the cynicism of incrementalism. It refuses to let us forget the dead. It insists that another world is not only possible but already struggling to be born in programs, movements, and communities across the continent.
As a reader, I found myself moved, provoked, occasionally skeptical, but never indifferent. Hudson has written a book that matters, one that will continue to ripple outward as activists, policymakers, and ordinary people wrestle with the meaning of safety. On balance, I would mark my reception of the book at 83 out of 100.
The number is less important than the truth that animates it: Defund succeeds in shifting the conversation from what police are doing wrong to what we could build right. It may not provide every answer. But it leaves no doubt that the answers must be sought elsewhere than in the institution of policing.