The Blue Line

I apologize in advance; this will likely get long and personal, and it will likely ramble on. I doubt this will reach the level of critical engagement that Randi is looking for in these responses, but I kind of need to get it out.

I have to admit that this week has been particularly tough for me.

I've made no secret of my police affiliations. I knew it would be important to disclose this information early; I come into this class with intimate knowledge of an extremely powerful institution, one that plays a significant part in the hardships that survivors face in their pursuit of justice, should they choose to pursue it at all. It is an institution that can exacerbate and promote a culture of violence against the people it's meant to protect. It is, at best, extremely flawed. It is an institution I helped to enforce.

And, unfortunately, it's what we've got.

I cannot fault any members of the class for feeling frustrated with, or betrayed by, the police as a whole when faced with the knowledge we gain in this class -- my frustration with the internal politics as well as the broader justice system as a whole is part of why I left in the first place. I encourage examination of police policies and procedures, as it is only when accountability is forced by the public that the politicians and makers of policy are actually forced to alter SOP. Much like is mentioned by Davis, the successful reformation of our policing and prison guidelines would require a fundamental shift in so many aspects of society it is shocking. Unfortunately, policing is tied into many of the power dynamics that make patriarchy, capitalism, and white supremacy (amongst other systems of power) so particularly powerful and effective in our society, so changing it goes hand in hand with effectively altering those institutions of power.

And it is an institution that, in spite of everything, I desperately want to see fixed.

Because I really do believe that effective policing and rehabilitation has the power to benefit communities for the better. Lord knows I've seen my fair share of the ugliness of humanity, and I know first hand how terribly difficult it is to maintain any kind of faith in humanity when your job entails dealing with people on the worst day of their life, day in and day out.

But dammit, it can work. I look at the models of Norway and Germany's prison systems, which function more as a kind of therapy than as punishment, and the levels of recidivism are so much different than ours. The violent crime rate is different than ours. The culture of punishment as a whole is vastly different.

And I'm not going to pretend that there aren't cultural intricacies that are present here that don't account for that. Nor am I going to pretend that Germany doesn't have its own host of social problems that contribute to crime and punishment there (there was, in fact, an investigation into police brutality in Hanover earlier this year). But it's proof that prison, policing, and policy don't have to be what they are now. It's proof that if a society can confront its demons, it can change. It takes long, consistent, and painful effort to do so, but it can be done. It can be, and it must be. And it has to start from the ground before any of our politicians will be motivated to put in the sustained, crushing effort required to overhaul it.