The sudden popularity of this book is attributable to a recent happening that some latter-day Suetonius might contextualize as one of the most bizarre and ominous spectacles in American political history. On June 6, Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey found himself in the middle of a crowd of thousands of bilious protesters associated with the Black Lives Matter movement. Amidst the tumultuous nationwide reaction to the police killing of an African-American man named George Floyd—running a gamut from peaceful mass demonstrations to rioting, looting, arson, and several murders—the Mayor had, from the first scent of unrest, adopted a policy of extreme deference to doves and vandals alike.
Not only did he express the sentiments of the entire nation by denouncing the cruel and gratuitous nature of Floyd’s killing; not only did he kneel in solidarity with protesters and make several expressive (and some might say excessive) public displays of grief; but as rioters took to the streets in the first nights of disorder, he ordered the police to stand down and retreat, effectively conceding a large swath of the city—and the livelihoods of those who depended on it—to a rampage of theft, arson, and vandalism. Three police precincts were abandoned, which rioters later occupied and burned. One of the first buildings set ablaze was an unfinished residential unit that would have housed 190 low-income families.
If one understood the intersectional left as a political movement, one might have thought that Frey’s stance would have ingratiated him with it. The movement would have gained the unqualified support of a high-profile ally, contributing to the broad political coalition it would need to build in order to make the substantial institutional changes necessary to reform American policing. In truth, intersectionality is a cult of mortification, a kind of racialized flagellantism that retreats from the exterior, objective realm of political and social discourse to the subjective and experiential modality of spiritual self-interrogation. It is a quietistic antipolitics that replaces a seemingly irredeemable outer world with a more accommodable gnosis of “woke” enlightenment.
While political movements attempt to harmonize a vast field of disparate interests and perspectives into an actionable consensus, cults function as a cloister of refuge from a doomed world, absorbing new members by cutting them off from the contaminating influences of the society outside their perimeters. Because the purpose of cults is to shield themselves from reality instead of acting within it, the partially-initiated pose the greatest danger and incur the greatest wrath for perceived transgressions, because the indeterminacy of their devotion represents a rupture of the hermetic seal.
Such was the predicament of Jacob Frey on June 6, when he stood in the middle of what he thought was a political rally but was actually his initiation ceremony. He reiterated his support for the cause, but the organizers needed him to step fully inside the circle. He had taken the broad and widely-supported view that the Minneapolis Police Department, like many law enforcement agencies around the country, needed to be reformed in order to address issues of brutality, racial bias, and lack of public oversight and accountability.
But to truly demonstrate his fealty, the Mayor would have to embrace a position that nobody outside the intersectional clique would support; a position that defied the authority not only of entrenched political interests, but also of common sense and ethical credibility. As Frey stood before a woman on a stage like a man accused, the woman demanded to know if the Mayor supported the total abolition of the police—any police—from Minneapolis. “We don’t want no police,” she insisted. When Frey conceded to reason and said that he did not, he was evicted from the rally and made to scurry away in a shambles reminiscent of Hanno’s flight from Sicca in Flaubert’s Salammbô, spirited off by a chorus of boos, curses, and angry chants like “Shame!”, and “Go home, Jacob! Go home!”
That the mayor of a large American city had allowed himself to be treated this way was troubling enough, but the crux of his public shaming was a proposition that most Americans found baffling. As serious and intractable as the problems in American policing are, getting rid of police altogether is obviously a dumb idea; a long national history of mob violence, much of it perpetrated against immigrants and ethnic minorities, demonstrates the perils of a social atmosphere in which public order has broken down and the law may be safely disregarded. To all the earnest chatter on social media about “community policing”, we may reply by pointing out that the lynch mob is perhaps the earliest American type of exactly that. Their victims, after all, were almost always accused of some type of crime that institutional law enforcement, from their perspective, could not be trusted to prosecute. It is indeed significant that Abraham Lincoln’s Lyceum Address of 1838, his first major political speech, was devoted to the critical importance of the rule of law, the dangers posed by violent mobs that were forming across the Union, and the necessity of making the veneration of the rule of law the “political religion of our nation.”
Nevertheless, in the electrochemical continuum of the digital borgbrain, bad ideas are circulated and defended while good ones limp along behind them. Some of the amateur infographics I’ve seen online, probably created by eighteen-year-olds who only recently learned that the story of George Washington and the cherry tree is not based on primary sources, have made me laugh out loud. Did you know that we can just put body armor on social workers and have them replace police? No, dude, it’s radical praxis.
Others have mounted a more robust defense of the “abolitionist” movement, as it rather immodestly styles itself, and this book, The End of Policing, is their most-cited source. Since it was offered for free on Verso’s website, I dove in expecting a rip-roaring good time. But to my disappointment, The End of Policing is not actually about ending policing, though it deploys an impressive array of motte-and-bailey tactics to conceal this fact. Its central thesis is far more agreeable: in the last fifty years or so, the disciplinarian logic of policing has been overextended in purview by our political class, which has employed the language of law enforcement not only to the apprehension and punishment of dangerous criminals, but also to a wide array of social maladies that had not previously fallen within its ambit. As our civil society has deteriorated, the police have become the sole point of contact between the state and several categories of marginalized people, including the homeless, drug addicts, the mentally ill, and even recalcitrant schoolchildren. The book does not prescribe the elimination of policing, but rather the reorientation of policing towards its proper ends and within its proper limits. The police are necessary, but they should be one of several tools available—including educators, healthcare professionals, and yes, social workers—for the public to deploy in its service.
The police can do little for the homeless, drug-addled, and mentally ill (and often people fall into all three categories) except arrest them when they violate purpose-designed laws and cycle them between prisons, rehab clinics, and mental hospitals, all at great expense to the public and with little benefit for the offenders. Even if police genuinely want to improve the circumstances of such people, the public resources for long-term housing and psychiatric treatment are usually negligible, and interactions between the police and civilians will always take place in the context of a law enforcement officer apprehending a “criminal” who is then tried and “disciplined” by the justice system. When the police are called in for every problem, the social dynamics of policing are inevitably applied to every problem, often with disastrous results. Roughly a quarter of people killed by police in any given year are mentally ill, and most of the nation’s largest inpatient psychiatric facilities are in jails.
Public schools have also seen a rapid growth in counterproductive police activity. The number of School Resource Officers has proliferated in recent years, and their role has expanded far beyond simply protecting the school from intruders. Police officers can now be found disciplining misbehaving elementary school students, a role traditionally reserved for teachers, administrators, and parents, and the country has been treated to appalling videos of police handcuffing the arms of young children. This law enforcement approach to adolescent misbehavior has worked in tandem with educational mandates that emphasize standardized test scores to the detriment of everything else, providing an incentive for teachers and administrators to address the underperformance of troubled students with disciplinarian measures like suspension and expulsion, which have the effect of making the school look better on paper regarding average test scores and facilitating the journey of disaffected youths along the infamous school-to-prison pipeline.
The abject failure of the war on drugs and the substantial human costs associated with it are well documented, as is the antagonistic environment engendered by the “broken windows” theory of policing, according to which the toleration of petty offenses breeds an atmosphere conducive to more serious forms of criminality and thus law enforcement must prioritize cracking down on minor infractions. Vitale identifies the conspicuous forcefulness of American police as a problem, but waves away the significant factors—widespread civilian ownership of firearms, an anti-authoritarian culture, the prevalence of gang membership among numerous ethnic subpopulations, the aforementioned history of vigilantism—that invite a more violent policing mentality. Too few consider the possibility that the American police are violent because the American people are violent. Hell, less than three years ago a man smuggled 24 modified firearms into a Las Vegas hotel room and used them to mow down 58 people at a country music concert; but Vitale is stumped as to why police carry guns at all.
He also expects us to be scandalized by the proposition that policing has developed as a method of social control, and that it is not politically “neutral”. Of course not. Policing is the mechanism by which a social order maintains itself and enforces its understanding of ethical behavior. Activities that fall beyond the scope of this understanding are criminalized. Every society polices its members; the salient questions revolve around who does the policing, how they do it, and the moral ends to which the mean of policing is directed. Pointing out that law enforcement “proactively prevent[s] the formation of movements and public expressions of rage,” as Vitale euphemistically phrases it, is not exactly an argumentative slam dunk. Movements can be nonviolent protests or violent revolutions, and “public expressions of rage” can destroy livelihoods, disfigure the public spaces of cities, and provide cover for evil people to do evil things.
The history section also suffers from a series of basic genetic fallacies. Some policing organizations in the nineteenth century were connected with slave patrols, though most of the earliest professional urban police units were formed in northern cities like Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Cincinnati in the 1840s and 50s, at which time slavery was not permitted there. It is hardly appropriate to go on to claim that American policing has always and everywhere had the function of a slave patrol. Even if there were a direct line connecting slave patrols to modern-day police departments (and there isn’t), this obviously wouldn’t apply to most police departments across the country. And even if it did, nobody peddling the assertion has bothered to explain why it would matter. In what specific ways are police practices derived from the perpetuation of slavery, and what specific negative impacts are they having today?
In the end, I think there is a hidden consensus between self-described “radicals” who are rightly wary of police excesses and conservatives who are concerned about lawlessness and the demonization of law enforcement. Socialists and traditionalists have something very important in common: a respect for the principle of subsidiarity. Laws and institutions should be formed from the bottom up rather than imposed from the top down. Stale bureaucratic initiatives cannot repair the deep wounds in our civil society, whether those initiatives involve plugging the holes in broken families with dollar bills or sweeping the socially disaffected into industrial prisons. The left and right share a sense of the dehumanizing currents of our time, and they must work together to promote a more organic social harmony that can weather the storm.