THIS BLOG is NOW RETIRED

I began this blog in May 2009 following the death of Marcia Powell at Perryville State Prison in Goodyear, Arizona. It is not intended to prescribe the path that leads to freedom from the prison industrial complex.

Rather, these are just my observations in arguably the most racist, fascist, militaristic state in the nation at a critical time in history for a number of intersecting liberation movements. From Indigenous resistance to genocidal practices, to the fight over laws like SB1070 and the ban on Ethnic Studies, Arizona is at the center of many battles for human rights, and thus the struggle for prison abolition as well - for none are free until all are. I retired the blog in APRIL 2013.

Visit me now at Arizona Prison Watch or Survivors of Prison Violence-AZ
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Showing posts with label michelle alexander. Show all posts
Showing posts with label michelle alexander. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

6th Amendment under attack: Stand up, FIGHT BACK!

I just spent my day with a woman who was coerced into taking a plea on a crime she didn't commit or they would nail her to the wall for the one she actually did. She just did a little over two years for it. Her prosecutor clearly just wanted a moment of fame bragging about her conviction; true guilt or innocence seem to be irrelevant to those people, and I think it's high time we crash this system as well. People are losing their lives as it is anyway - we might as well do this strategically and take the real bad guys down with us when we go...the following excerpt from Alexander's essay sums up my feelings on this quite well:

"People should understand that simply exercising their rights would shake the foundations of our justice system which works only so long as we accept its terms. As you know, another brutal system of racial and social control once prevailed in this country, and it never would have ended if some people weren’t willing to risk their lives. It would be nice if reasoned argument would do, but as we’ve seen that’s just not the case. So maybe, just maybe, if we truly want to end this system, some of us will have to risk our lives.” 


 Resistance Alley, Phoenix
June Artwalk 2011



 -------------from the NEW YORK TIMES  -------------

GO TO TRIAL: CRASH THE JUSTICE SYSTEM (Opinion)
By MICHELLE ALEXANDER 
March 10, 2012
Fifteen years after her first arrest, Susan was finally admitted to a private drug treatment facility and given a job. After she was clean she dedicated her life to making sure no other woman would suffer what she had been through. Susan now runs five safe homes for formerly incarcerated women in Los Angeles. Her organization, A New Way of Life, supplies a lifeline for women released from prison. But it does much more: it is also helping to start a movement. With groups like All of Us or None, it is organizing formerly incarcerated people and encouraging them to demand restoration of their basic civil and human rights.
I was stunned by Susan’s question about plea bargains because she — of all people — knows the risks involved in forcing prosecutors to make cases against people who have been charged with crimes. Could she be serious about organizing people, on a large scale, to refuse to plea-bargain when charged with a crime? 

“Yes, I’m serious,” she flatly replied. 

I launched, predictably, into a lecture about what prosecutors would do to people if they actually tried to stand up for their rights. The Bill of Rights guarantees the accused basic safeguards, including the right to be informed of charges against them, to an impartial, fair and speedy jury trial, to cross-examine witnesses and to the assistance of counsel. 

But in this era of mass incarceration — when our nation’s prison population has quintupled in a few decades partly as a result of the war on drugs and the “get tough” movement — these rights are, for the overwhelming majority of people hauled into courtrooms across America, theoretical. More than 90 percent of criminal cases are never tried before a jury. Most people charged with crimes forfeit their constitutional rights and plead guilty. 

“The truth is that government officials have deliberately engineered the system to assure that the jury trial system established by the Constitution is seldom used,” said Timothy Lynch, director of the criminal justice project at the libertarian Cato Institute. In other words: the system is rigged. 

In the race to incarcerate, politicians champion stiff sentences for nearly all crimes, including harsh mandatory minimum sentences and three-strikes laws; the result is a dramatic power shift, from judges to prosecutors.
The Supreme Court ruled in 1978 that threatening someone with life imprisonment for a minor crime in an effort to induce him to forfeit a jury trial did not violate his Sixth Amendment right to trial. Thirteen years later, in Harmelin v. Michigan, the court ruled that life imprisonment for a first-time drug offense did not violate the Eighth Amendment’s ban on cruel and unusual punishment. 

No wonder, then, that most people waive their rights. Take the case of Erma Faye Stewart, a single African-American mother of two who was arrested at age 30 in a drug sweep in Hearne, Tex., in 2000. In jail, with no one to care for her two young children, she began to panic. Though she maintained her innocence, her court-appointed lawyer told her to plead guilty, since the prosecutor offered probation. Ms. Stewart spent a month in jail, and then relented to a plea. She was sentenced to 10 years’ probation and ordered to pay a $1,000 fine. Then her real punishment began: upon her release, Ms. Stewart was saddled with a felony record; she was destitute, barred from food stamps and evicted from public housing. Once they were homeless, Ms. Stewart’s children were taken away and placed in foster care. In the end, she lost everything even though she took the deal. 

On the phone, Susan said she knew exactly what was involved in asking people who have been charged with crimes to reject plea bargains, and press for trial. “Believe me, I know. I’m asking what we can do. Can we crash the system just by exercising our rights?” 

The answer is yes. The system of mass incarceration depends almost entirely on the cooperation of those it seeks to control. If everyone charged with crimes suddenly exercised his constitutional rights, there would not be enough judges, lawyers or prison cells to deal with the ensuing tsunami of litigation. Not everyone would have to join for the revolt to have an impact; as the legal scholar Angela J. Davis noted, “if the number of people exercising their trial rights suddenly doubled or tripled in some jurisdictions, it would create chaos.” 

Such chaos would force mass incarceration to the top of the agenda for politicians and policy makers, leaving them only two viable options: sharply scale back the number of criminal cases filed (for drug possession, for example) or amend the Constitution (or eviscerate it by judicial “emergency” fiat). Either action would create a crisis and the system would crash — it could no longer function as it had before. Mass protest would force a public conversation that, to date, we have been content to avoid. 

In telling Susan that she was right, I found myself uneasy. “As a mother myself, I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t plead guilty to if a prosecutor told me that accepting a plea was the only way to get home to my children,” I said. “I truly can’t imagine risking life imprisonment, so how can I urge others to take that risk — even if it would send shock waves through a fundamentally immoral and unjust system?” 

Susan, silent for a while, replied: “I’m not saying we should do it. I’m saying we ought to know that it’s an option. People should understand that simply exercising their rights would shake the foundations of our justice system which works only so long as we accept its terms. As you know, another brutal system of racial and social control once prevailed in this country, and it never would have ended if some people weren’t willing to risk their lives. It would be nice if reasoned argument would do, but as we’ve seen that’s just not the case. So maybe, just maybe, if we truly want to end this system, some of us will have to risk our lives.” 

Michelle Alexander is the author of “The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness.”

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Kantar on The New Jim Crow

Here's an articulate guest column offered by Max Kantar and pretty thoroughly researched. Originally posted at counterpunch.org on January 18, 2011.

Thanks again, Max...

-------------------------------------

Race and America's Criminal Justice System

By MAX KANTAR

Michelle Alexander's recent book, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness,[1] may well be the most important analysis of the current state of human rights and racism in American society since W.E.B. Dubois wrote The Souls of Black Folk at the turn of the twentieth century.[2] In it, Alexander, a distinguished professor at the Moritz College of Law at Ohio State University and the former Racial Justice project director for the ACLU of Northern California, argues that the mass incarceration of black and brown men in the United States amounts to a complex system of racial control with uncomfortable and uncanny parallels to Jim Crow, both in terms of its scale and the real life consequences for people of color, African Americans in particular. In fact, under the auspices of the War on Drugs, the United States incarcerates black men at nearly six times the rate that the internationally reviled white supremacist South African regime did at the height of apartheid.[3] Today, there are more African Americans under correctional control—in prison or jail, on probation or parole—than there were enslaved in 1850, more than ten years before the Civil War began (p. 175). In major cities, large majorities of black men have been branded felons for life—mostly for minor, nonviolent drug offenses—effectively locking huge sectors of the black community into a permanent second-class status where they are legally discriminated against in all the same ways that their grandparents were during Jim Crow, including access to housing, employment, and public benefits, not to mention systematic exclusion from juries, denial of the right to bear arms, and denial of the right to vote, all in accordance with the law.

Racial Caste Reborn

One of the major themes in The New Jim Crow is that racial caste in America is an institution that has persisted over the years by evolving—through conscious policies and political campaigns—in order to adapt to serious challenges to its legitimacy. In addition to exploring the birth of Jim Crow following the overthrow of chattel slavery and the end of Reconstruction, Alexander meticulously chronicles the repackaging and development of a new system of racial caste in our officially colorblind society following the social and political gains of the Civil Rights Movement. The disintegration of Jim Crow in the South left millions of whites feeling marginalized, disenfranchised, and resentful over desegregation, affirmative action, and the imposition of new laws and values on "their" society. According to one of his top advisors, Richard Nixon emphasized that "the whole problem is really the blacks. The key is to devise a system that recognizes this while not appearing to" (p. 43). In an attempt to get Southern whites to break with the Democratic Party—with which they had been largely aligned since Roosevelt's New Deal—Republican administrations began making racially coded appeals to white voters on issues of "crime," "law and order," and "welfare." This brand of officially colorblind racial politics culminated with President Reagan's declaration of the current "War on Drugs" in 1982; a "war" waged despite the fact that only two percent of Americans considered illegal drugs to be a major issue at that time. Moreover, contrary to popular belief, drug crime in the early '80s was on the decline. When crack-cocaine hit the streets a few years later, however, Reagan administration officials seized the opportunity to zealously promote drug war policies by waging a massive publicity and propaganda campaign highlighting black crack abusers and related violence, which Alexander points out, became a media sensation (pgs. 51-4). This was, of course, the purpose of the War on Drugs: to put African Americans back in their place on the racial hierarchy. In the ensuing decades, countless billions of federal dollars and advanced weaponry poured into the coffers and arsenals of state and local law enforcement agencies specifically to help launch the drug war in inner cities. Lawmakers joined in the hysteria by passing extreme mandatory minimum sentencing laws, often harshly targeting drugs associated with inner-city blacks rather than middle-class whites.

For his part, President Clinton signed the biggest law enforcement bill in American history and ushered in unprecedentedly cruel "one strike" penalties for ex-felons, banning them from public housing and food stamps for life (pgs. 55-7). Clinton, whom Alexander credits with having done more to create today's racial caste system than any other president, also oversaw the biggest expansion of the prison system in the history of the United States (p. 56). Mass incarceration quickly became a bipartisan set of policies and has since been set on cruise control—if not acceleration—by successive administrations, including the current one (pgs. 238-41).[4] The result? The prison population in the U.S. has increased from 300,000 in 1980 to nearly two and a half million today—by far the biggest prison population of any country in the world, both proportionally and numerically. Crucially, drug offenses account for two-thirds of the increase in federal prisoners and over half of the increase in state prisoners (p. 59).

Rounded up, Locked up, and Locked out

Alexander likens mass incarceration to slavery and Jim Crow on the grounds that each racial caste system functions as a "tightly networked system of laws, policies, customs, and institutions that operate collectively to ensure the subordinate status [of African Americans]" (p. 13). Mass incarceration, she continues, can be largely understood as functioning in three distinct phases: rounding up men of color, placing them under formal correctional control, and branding them as felons for life (pgs. 180-2). While the author thoroughly and carefully takes into account a great many variables in the book, including history, politics, and legal precedents, it is worth briefly examining here the three distinct phases she highlights.

Police agencies have a tremendous amount of discretion when it comes to enforcing drug laws. Countless studies of policing practices across the country consistently reveal enormous—almost pathological—racial biases against black and brown men. This is especially true with the War on Drugs despite the fact that blacks and Latinos are no more likely to use or sell illegal drugs than their white counterparts. With the blessing of the courts, police officers are encouraged to stop massive amounts of people—whether driving or walking—to conduct searches, or fishing expeditions, for drugs. The vast majority—upwards of 80 to 90 percent—of those targeted have been people of color. In cities like New York, this translates into over one thousand black and brown men being arbitrarily searched and harassed every day according to the NYPD's own figures. Many city police departments across the U.S. also keep mass biographical databases of racial minorities irrespective of crime. Rationalized as a means of monitoring "gangs" and "crime," the databases seek to build profiles on anyone "using slang" or wearing "baggy" pants (read: any person of color). In Los Angeles and Denver, for example, it has been revealed that the vast majority of blacks and Latinos residing in these cities were on mass databases of suspected criminals (pgs. 131-4). As Alexander points out, the courts have essentially closed the doors to claims of racial discrimination (absent an admission of racial hatred on the part of officials, McCleskey v. Kemp, 1987, p. 106-9, 189) with the Supreme Court going so far as to declare race to be a legitimate—if not determinative—factor in police discretionary decision making (United States v. Brignoni-Ponce, 1975, pgs. 128-33).

Incarceration rates dramatically reflect racist policing patterns and political priorities. Because the quintupling of the prison population is largely a result of incarcerating black and brown drug offenders, the majority of prisoners today are locked up for nonviolent offenses. And despite the fact that blacks are no more likely (and perhaps less likely) than whites to engage in drug use or sales, in many states blacks have been sent to prison on drug charges at rates ranging from twenty to nearly sixty times the rate of whites—a pattern which fundamentally holds true for adolescent offenders as well. In Illinois, for example, blacks are less than twenty percent of the state's drug users and sellers, but constitute 90 percent of all incarcerated drug offenders. As a nation, whites are the overwhelming majority of drug users and sellers yet the vast majority—75 percent—of all drug offenders sent to prison are black or Latino (pgs. 96-7).

It is no surprise then that one in every three young black men in America is either locked up or on probation or parole; nationwide, the figure is nearly 50 percent when those who have been permanently labeled as felons are included.[5] It should be emphasized that the status of those on probation and parole—especially the latter—is equivalent to having no civil rights; often times the slightest infraction—for example, missing an appointment or failing to find a job—is enough for the state to tear the individual from his family and community and lock him in a cage for months or even years (p. 93). For many inner-city communities, prison has become the rule rather than the exception. To cite just one example, in Washington DC, three out of every four young black men—irrespective of class—can expect to be incarcerated (p. 159). At the current rate of incarceration, one out of every three black male babies born at the turn of the 21st century will end up in prison.[6] Today, due largely to the mass incarceration of black men, an African-American child is less likely to be raised by both parents than a black child born during slavery (p. 175) and almost ten times more likely than white children to have a parent incarcerated.[7]

Once branded a felon, individuals are permanently relegated to a second class status. Drug felons specifically are banned from receiving subsidized loans for college. All felons are banned from public housing and can be legally discriminated against in private housing. They are also required by law to "check the box" on job applications and employers are entitled to legally discriminate against them. In fact, surveys show the vast majority of employers admit that they will not consider hiring a felon. Barred from affordable housing, educational opportunities, and shut out of the job market, felons also lose the right to eat; they are banned from receiving food stamps for life. In addition to losing the right to possess firearms, felons are completely excluded from serving on juries; because of this, fully 30 percent of black men in America have been automatically excluded from serving on juries (p. 119). This is in addition to Supreme Court rulings which allow courts to, in practice, systematically exclude blacks from juries for admittedly "silly" and "superstitious" reasons which serve as legal cover for maintaining the all-white jury, which is and always has been a staple institution in American life (pgs. 188-9). Perhaps worse yet, felon disenfranchisement laws deny the right to vote to millions of African Americans across the country. In fact, as of 2004 more black men were disenfranchised than in 1870, which was the year the fifteenth amendment was ratified which outlawed the denial of voting rights to people on the basis of race (p. 175).

Racial Caste: Defining What it Means to be Black

Because mass incarceration and felony branding policies have been unjustly directed primarily at African Americans and other people of color, Alexander argues that the current system amounts to a restructuring of racial caste in America. This charge is not without merit; in cities and states where African Americans are highly concentrated, huge majorities of black men have been locked up and/or labeled as felons for life—mostly for minor, nonviolent drug offenses—making it perfectly legal to discriminate against them in all of the same ways that the Jim Crow system discriminated against their parents and grandparents several decades ago. In Chicago, for example, fully 80 percent of the black male workforce has been branded felons for life. The criminalization of black men in Chicago—and black men in urban America generally—is, of course, largely a phenomenon of the War on Drugs; since 1985 the number of black men incarcerated for nonviolent drug offenses in Chicago has increased by nearly 2,000 percent (pgs. 183-5, 191). The trend generalizes across the U.S.; as of the year 2000, on a national level African American incarceration for drug offenses represented a 26-fold increase since 1985 (p. 96). Much in the same way that segregation and ghettoization of African Americans in the North was the result not of market forces nor human nature but rather the outcome of specific federal and local policies designed for those ends, mass incarceration is the result of deliberate policy choices aimed at strengthening the historical racial order in America, ensuring that African Americans remain in a subordinate and stigmatized position on the social and racial hierarchy.[8]

The policies of mass incarceration—coupled with paralleled, racialized political and media campaigns—in recent decades have served to define in racial terms what it means to be a criminal. As Alexander points out, every system of racial caste in America has had as its primary function, the ability to define the meaning of race in its time (pgs. 192-5). During slavery, to be black was to be a slave and to be black under Jim Crow was to be a second class citizen. In the age of mass incarceration, to be black—and this is especially true for men—is to be a criminal (pgs. 192-5). In our society, the racialization of what it means to be a criminal amounts to the stigmatization of African Americans as a group. The War on Drugs has been the primary vehicle for creating both the on-the-ground reality as well as, in part, the ideological foundations for racial caste in an America that is officially colorblind; although all studies show that the majority white population is just as likely—perhaps even more so—to engage in drug use and sales, black men—and to a lesser degree, Latinos—are the ones who have been targeted, incarcerated, and branded as criminals en masse. While whites who have been branded as felons surely experience the stigma associated with incarceration, their stigma is by no means a racial stigma; the term "white crime" is unfathomable and nonexistent while "black criminal" is nearly redundant (p. 193). In fact, Alexander insists that the fact that blacks "only" comprise 80 or 90 percent of those incarcerated for drug offenses in some states—instead of 100 percent—actually serves to reinforce the legitimacy of racial caste in an officially colorblind society; the exception that justifies the rule (pgs. 198-9).

As a system of racial caste, mass incarceration doesn't just apply to those officially branded as felons. "Just as African Americans in the North were stigmatized by the Jim Crow system even if they were not subject to its formal control," Alexander writes, "black men today are stigmatized by mass incarceration—and the social construction of the "criminalblackman"—whether they have ever been to prison or not" (p. 194). This is evidenced in part by dominant media and cultural narratives, institutionalized (and legalized) racial profiling, and police efforts to build mass databases of "suspected criminals" which contain information almost exclusively on racial minorities who have often done nothing criminal at all aside from having been born to black and brown parents. In addition to the numerous studies showing that most white Americans see crime in racial (nonwhite) terms, studies conducted by Princeton University also reveal that white felons fresh out of prison are more likely to get hired for jobs than equally qualified black men with no criminal record.[9] African American men without criminal records are more ostracized and widely perceived as being more criminal than white men who have actually been convicted of felony crimes. That is how deeply black people have been stigmatized as criminals and social pariahs in our society. Whole black communities have been stigmatized by the presence of felons in their midst and black men have, Alexander aptly observes, become "the new untouchables" (p. 194). Worse yet, Alexander contends that the racial solidarity which existed to a substantial degree among blacks during Jim Crow has been significantly destroyed by mass incarceration: "[T]he shame and stigma of the 'prison label' is, in many respects, more damaging to the African American community than the shame and stigma associated with Jim Crow. The criminalization and demonization of black men has turned the black community against itself, unraveling community and family relationships, decimating networks of mutual support, and intensifying the shame and self-hate experienced by the pariah caste" (p. 17).

The campaign of drug criminalization in recent decades begs comparisons to the birth of Jim Crow in the late nineteenth century. Following Reconstruction, white Southerners sought to reestablish the white supremacist racial order but were constrained in doing so by new realities imposed by the federal government, including the abolition of chattel slavery. Lawmakers instead chose to criminalize minor offenses which were often colorblind on paper, such as loitering, vagrancy, "using obscene language," and so forth, in order to establish pretexts for imprisoning black men and forcing them back on to the plantations via contracted prison labor—a vast system of re-enslavement through mass incarceration which was, in many respects, worse than traditional slavery.[10] While Jim Crow eventually included many laws explicitly discriminating on the basis of race, a major part of this racist system centered on how seemingly race-neutral laws were enforced and who was targeted. This was true for disenfranchising black voters as well. Because the federal government outlawed denying the vote to citizens on the basis of race, southern officials introduced ostensibly colorblind literacy tests and poll taxes, but everyone knew that the laws were aimed at black folks and were almost exclusively enforced accordingly to achieve that end. The War on Drugs is similar; initiated largely by the federal government, the drug war policies have criminalized minor offenses and activities—drug use and sale—which exist in all human societies and exist equally across racial lines in America, and took care to enforce these laws overwhelmingly against blacks and other racial minorities.

The New Jim Crow does an excellent job of dispelling common myths often cited to explain in colorblind terms the reasons for the mass incarceration of African Americans. In addition to setting the record straight on the prevalence of drug activity along racial lines, Alexander also explains that the War on Drugs has not been waged in poor communities of color because of higher rates of violent crime among poor blacks. Comparatively speaking, higher rates of violent crime in black communities is independent of drug activity and has very little to do with the recent prison boom; citing William Julius Wilson's When Work Disappears, Alexander notes that rates of violent crime are directly related to concentrated joblessness.[11] When the racial disparity in joblessness is accounted for, violent crime rates for blacks and whites are virtually indistinguishable (p. 50). Moreover, the drug war is expressly not aimed at reducing violent crime or even going after drug kingpins; the main purpose is to amass high volumes of arrests and obtain as many convictions as possible—the vast majority of which are possession charges for small amounts of marijuana and other drugs.

How Does it Feel to be a Problem?

Like slavery and Jim Crow, mass incarceration is all but invisible to whites in the sense that it appears completely normal and doesn't directly affect most white communities.[12] In fact, in recent years it has become almost cliché—though indeed accurate—to observe that the number of black men in prisons has drastically eclipsed the number of black men in college; before the current drug war, in 1980, however, black men in college outnumbered black men in prison by a ratio of three to one.[13] Consider the militarization of policing, paramilitary-style sweeps of entire neighborhoods, routine violence and police brutality, constant, arbitrary, and humiliating searches and invasions: such a violent campaign of dehumanization and oppression could never feasibly target white drug users and dealers on college campuses and in the suburbs as it has black and brown citizens in the inner city (pgs. 199-202). Yet whites overwhelmingly take mass incarceration and racial caste—though not by those names—for granted, as if the wholesale imprisonment and stigmatization of blacks is something natural or inevitable; after all, crime—and therefore, mass incarceration—is a black problem. In The Souls of Black Folk, written in 1903, W.E.B. Dubois describes the prevailing attitude of whites towards African Americans in the terms of an implicit question whites often leveled at blacks on the issue of race: "How does it feel to be a problem?"[14] Today when whites talk about getting "tough on crime" and when they call on African American leaders—or when such "leaders" do so voluntarily—to take the black community to task for alleged cultural deficiencies supposedly at the heart of African American social and economic problems, they are essentially saying the same thing as the whites of Dubois' era: "How does it feel to be a problem?"

The "sprinkling" of a select few of people of color in universities, the government, corporations, television—and even in the White House—helps to perpetuate the myth of racial equality and "black progress"—a loaded and historically insulting term—in post-Civil Rights era America. While nobody can deny that great gains have been achieved as a result of popular activism led by African Americans in the 1950s and '60s, the painful reality is that in many key respects, the black community in America is no better off—and in some respects, worse off—than it was in 1968 when Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated (pgs. 233-6). Schools are more segregated and unequal today than they were in 1950; residential housing is more segregated in the Midwest and Northeast than in the South.[15] Poverty rates in the black community remain high and have changed little, especially if prisoners are included. Among black children, poverty rates have actually increased, according to Alexander (p. 233). Joblessness continues to be disproportionately high for African Americans, notably young black men, of which one in three are unemployed (p. 149). For those who don't complete high school, the rate of joblessness soars to 65 percent (p. 149). Rampant police brutality in the black community continues to persist. And of course, incarceration of black men—and black women for that matter—is at all time, astronomical highs.

In The New Jim Crow, Michelle Alexander brilliantly and systematically lifts from readers' eyes the veil of colorblind rhetoric, affirmative action, and tall tales of progress and equality in America and urges us to face the racial nightmare and human rights catastrophe that has been taking place on our watch. While impeccably documented and full of careful legal analysis, this is not a book so much for lawyers as it is for regular people who care about justice and freedom. The New Jim Crow is above all, a movement-building book. And considering what is at stake, nothing short of a militant, mass based civil rights style movement can hope to dismantle mass incarceration and racial caste in America once and forever.

Max Kantar is an independent writer and Michigan-based human rights activist. He can be reached at maxkantar@gmail.com.

Notes.

[1] Michelle Alexander, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness (New York: The New Press, 2010). References to specific information in the book throughout this review will be cited parenthetically in the text.

[2] W.E.B. Dubois, The Souls of Black Folk 3rd edition (Cambridge: University Press, 1903).

[3] This is if you include black men in both prison and jail in the US. The rate is about three and a half times higher than apartheid South Africa if incarceration rates only include those in prisons. See William J. Sabol, Todd D. Minton, and Paige M. Harrison, "Bureau of Justice Statistics: Prison and Jail Inmates at Midyear 2006" (Washington, DC: US Department of Justice, June 2007), NCJ217675, p. 9, Table 14.

[4] On Obama's presidential record on these matters, see "The Obama Administration's 2011 Budget: More Policing, Prisons, and Punitive Policies," Justice Policy Institute, February 2010, http://www.justicepolicy.org/images/upload/10-02_FAC_FY2011Budget_PS-JJ-AC-BB-DP.pdf (accessed November 5, 2010).

[5] Marc Maurer and Tracy Huling, "Young Black Americans and the Criminal Justice System: Five Years Later" (Washington DC: The Sentencing Project, 1995).

[6] Gary Younge, "30% of black men in US will go to jail," The Guardian, August 19, 2003.

[7] Bureau of Justice Statistics, "Incarcerated Parents and Their Children" (Washington, DC: US Department of Justice, August 2000).

[8] Regarding government policies which created segregation and ghettoization in the North, see Douglas Massey and Nancy Denton, American Apartheid: Segregation and the Making of the Underclass (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1993).

[9] Devah Pager and Bruce Western, "Race at Work: Realities of Race and Criminal Record in the NYC Job Market" (Princeton University, December 9, 2005). For online access see http://www.princeton.edu/~pager/).

[10] Douglas A. Blackmon, Slavery by Another Name: The Re-Enslavement of Black People in America from the Civil War to World War II (New York: Anchor Books, 2009).

[11] William Julius Wilson, When Work Disappears: The World of the New Urban Poor (New York: Vintage Books, 1997).

[12] There is one major exception here: in recent decades, many prisons have been built in rural, predominantly white towns across America. These towns have a huge stake in mass incarceration due to the amount of jobs that prisons bring to these communities. Nonetheless, the point remains the same: prison is not a part of life for many white families, whereas in many African American communities one would be hard pressed to find families without someone currently or recently incarcerated. See Alexander, New Jim Crow, 188.

[13] Fox Butterfield, "Study Finds Big Increase in Black Men as Inmates Since 1980," New York Times, August 28, 2002.

[14] Dubois, The Souls, 1-2.

[15] Gary Orfield, "Reviving the Goal of an Integrated Society: A 21st Century Challenge," The Civil Rights Project, UCLA, January 2009, http://civilrightsproject.ucla.edu/ (accessed November 5, 2010); Jonathon Kozol, The Shame of the Nation: The Restoration of Apartheid Schooling in America (New York: Random House, 2005); "American Urban Segregation," BlackDemographics.com, http://www.blackdemographics.com/geography.html (accessed November 5, 2010).


Monday, June 21, 2010

Talking Drugs and the New Jim Crow.

This interview is taken from an awesome site, Talking Drugs. They have a lot of resources on the prison industrial complex, drug policy, etc. Please check them out once you read their stuff.

--------------from Talking Drugs--------------

Michelle Alexander, the author of The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness answers some questions from TalkingDrugs.


Q1. Outside the US mass incarceration appears to be a monumental social injustice, why do you think the problem has existed for such a long period of time and received so little media exposure both inside and outside the country?


The answer boils down to race. If the drug war was being waged in middle-class white communities or on college campuses, there would be a media frenzy and a fierce political backlash. Our nation would likely be teetering on the verge of revolution if police sweeps of middle class, white neighborhoods were occurring on a regular basis, and white youth were routinely stopped, frisked, and brutalized by the police while walking to school, standing on the street corner, or driving to the store. If the majority of young white men were under the control of the criminal justice system in major areas, we would be asking ourselves: “What is wrong with our country, our courts, our laws to have criminalized such an enormous percentage of our youth? Why are we forcing so many young people into a permanent second-class status simply because they were once caught with drugs?” We would be asking those questions if the primary targets of the drug war were white. But because they’re not, an eerie silence exists, even in communities of color. As a nation, it feels comfortable and familiar to have a racially defined group of people ostracized and excluded from the mainstream economic, social and political structure. It seems normal. Even in the age of Obama.


Q2 The use of the phrase ‘Jim Crow’ and your quoting of H.R. Haldeman, (“The whole problem is really the blacks. The key is to devise a system that recognizes this while not appearing to.”) creates the impression that your belief is that the situation is a result of deliberate action by some politicians rather than an ‘unintended consequence’ of the war of drugs. Would you comment on this?


The historical record is clear. Former segregationists and conservative politicians embraced “get tough” rhetoric on crime and welfare in their effort to appeal to poor and working class whites voters, particularly in the South, who were threatened by, anxious about, and resentful of many of the gains of the Civil Rights Movement - particularly busing, desegregation, and affirmative action. Pollsters and political strategists found that “get tough” appeals on crime and welfare were extremely successful in providing an outlet for conscious and unconscious racial biases. Although the rhetoric was colorblind on the surface, voters understood that politicians who used “get tough” rhetoric were aiming to crack down on African Americans. The politicians who led the “get tough” movement in the early years were the same politicians who had been rabid defenders of Jim Crow. After the Civil Rights Acts were passed, it was no longer acceptable to employ explicitly racist rhetoric, but some political advisors, like Haldeman, admitted openly that they were searching for a means to devise a system to deal with the “black problem” following the collapse of Jim Crow. There can be little doubt that the War on Drugs was an effort to make good on political promises to crack down on a group of people who had been not-so-subtly defined in the political discourse as black and brown.


Now, does that mean I think the conservatives of the 1970s and early 1980s aimed to create precisely the system that we have today? No, the War on Drugs has succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. And do I think everyone working within law enforcement today has consciously biased motives? No. In fact, most people who work in law enforcement believe that they are unbiased. The targeting of poor communities of color for drug law enforcement, harsh mandatory minimum sentences, and perpetual, life-long discrimination against those branded felons has been rationalized. These laws, policies and practices are defended by politicians and media pundits without the use of explicitly racist language, making it easy for people to convince themselves and others that the policies have nothing to do with race. The problem lies with “those people,” it is said, not the laws or the system itself.


By the way, I am mystified why people refer to all of the laws authorizing discrimination against drug offenders in employment, housing, and public benefits as “unintended collateral consequences” of the drug war. Those laws were passed by the same legislatures that passed harsh mandatory minimum sentences for drug offenses. If you pass laws barring drug offenders from public benefits and food stamps, and barring them from public housing, and suspending their drivers licenses, and barring them from hundreds of categories of jobs, the predictable results cannot be described as “collateral” and “unintended.” If you legalize discrimination in housing, don’t act surprised that people can’t find a place to live. If you deny people food stamps and authorize discrimination against them in employment, don’t feign shock when they can’t feed themselves. The fact academics and policymakers describe so many forms of discrimination against drug felons as accidental by-products of the drug war is a revealing indicator of how deep our denial has become. We have a hard time acknowledging what is hidden in plain sight. We’ve created a new caste system, but we can’t - or won’t - admit it.


Q3 Do you think that the US Government has reneged on its commitment to its citizens as a signatory to the core conventions on human rights with respect to the mass incarceration of African Americans and do you think that it would be right to seek readdress through international mechanisms?


The mass incarceration of people of color in the United States can be counted among the most astounding, large scale human rights violations of the past century. It is my deep hope that the issue will attract more attention internationally. Many scholars believe that Jim Crow collapsed in large part because the U.S. government was concerned about the ways in which Jim Crow was tarnishing our nation’s image as leader of the “free world.” Today, it seems most people around the globe have bought into the idea that Obama’s election represents our nation’s “triumph over race.” Little do they know that the majority of black men in large urban areas are under the control of the criminal justice system or branded felons for life, largely due to a drug war that has been waged almost exclusively in poor communities of color. Perhaps if more people around the world knew that our nation has effectively re-created a racial caste system by waging a racist drug war, our government would be forced, once again, to reckon with deeply disturbing racial realities. International mechanisms will be useful, though, only to the extent they result in public debate and dialogue around the world. The U.S. government typically doesn’t care what international courts have to say about domestic human rights issues, and neither does the U.S. media.


Q4 How well do you think the wider drug policy reform movement has tackled the issue of mass incarceration?


The leadership of the drug policy reform movement has been overwhelmingly white and reluctant to acknowledge that the drug war, at its core, is about race. I am most encouraged by the work of the Drug Policy Alliance, but they, too, have their limitations. The reality is that the drug war, and mass incarceration as we know it, would not exist but for the racial divisions that inspired the “get tough” movement. We will not end the drug war, and we will not put an end to our nation’s habit of using drug laws to scapegoat racially defined groups, until we acknowledge and heal those racial divisions. There’s no way around it. Nevertheless, I’m frequently told that “ending racism” is too lofty a goal, and that it’s more pragmatic to talk about the virtues of drug treatment over incarceration. That argument might make more sense if the goal of the drug war was ending drug abuse. But that’s never been the primary goal of the war. This war was not declared to deal with drug crime; it was declared to deal with black people. So if you want to end the drug war, and if you want a more compassionate approach to drug use, you’re going to have to deal with our nation’s attitudes toward black people who aren’t Barack Obama.


Q5 What role do you think the stigma of drug use has played in preventing African –American communities from mobilising politically to fight mass incarceration?


It’s the stigma of drug crime - not drug use - that poses a major barrier to effective political action to defeat the New Jim Crow. Imprisonment is considered so shameful that many people avoid talking about it, even within their own families. Even in poor black neighborhoods where nearly every home has a family member currently behind bars or recently released from prison, there’s a reluctance to talk openly about one’s criminal history or that of loved ones. Although there is widespread acknowledgment in ghetto communities that the drug war is racist, there remains a lingering feeling that “criminals” are ultimately to blame; they have done wrong and so it’s their fault they can’t find employment or housing. It’s their fault they are cycling in and out of prison. The pervasive sense that drug offenders have done wrong and have brought shame and trouble upon themselves and their families, sometimes leads family members to turn against each other and frequently leads to political paralysis in the very communities hardest hit. The mother of one incarcerated teenager put it this way: “All of your life you been taught that you’re not a worthy person, or something is wrong with you. So you don’t have no respect for yourself. See, people of color have - not all of them, but a lot of them - have poor self-esteem because we’ve been branded. We hate ourselves, you know. We have been programmed that it’s something that’s wrong with us. . . . It’s hard, because, we’ve been labeled all our lives that we are the bad people.”

The belief that “we are the bad people” creates a profound silence about this system of control, and makes collective political action next to impossible. This book was an effort to break that silence.


Q6 How do you interpret the contrast between the widespread access to medical marijuana and prescription drugs for those that can pay and the harsh punishments for those who cannot access drugs via private medicine?


I think it’s fairly obvious that this drug war has little or nothing to do with ending the problems associated with the abuse of dangerous drugs. One commentator observed the war should be entitled the “War on Some Drugs.” I would argue that the war would be better described as the “War on Some People.” If you are relatively privileged, and have good access to health coverage , you may be prescribed a wide range of prescription drugs that will relieve anxiety, depression, insomnia, and nearly every other problematic emotional condition. And if you become addicted to any of those drugs, you will have access to drug treatment. The odds of you being subjected to stops, frisks, or sweeps of your home for suspected drug abuse are nil. Even if you begin selling those prescription drugs illegally to your friends and neighbors, it is highly unlikely that you will have any contact with law enforcement. But if you are poor and addicted to drugs, you will likely be subjected to police surveillance, put in a cage, and then relegated to a lifetime of discrimination, scorn and social exclusion. If we actually cared about the harms caused to people who are addicted to dangerous drugs, we would provide treatment, not cages, and support - not discrimination and scorn. Because we don’t actually care much what happens to “those people” -- people living in ghettos -- we put them in cages for extremely minor drug offenses and we imagine they need harsh treatment, not care, compassion and concern.


Sunday, January 17, 2010

The New Jim Crow: Race and Mass Incarceration

Just saw that this is out It looks worth the read. We don't talk enough about racism and the prison industrial complex here - you'd think the only racism we have in Arizona is Anglo against Latino ("citizen" v. "migrant" are the Southwest code words). We have huge racial disparities in AZ prisons, and pretty much anyone here who isn't Anglo is highly suspect for something criminal. 

It's time we get our racism out on the table and expose it to the daylight. It should come out in the House Committee on Sentencing - I don't rember that being mentioned at all when I was in the meeting. Maybe this is another book we should recommend to legislators...if anyone picks it up, let us know what you think.

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"The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness"
Jarvious Cotton’s great-great-grandfather could not vote as a slave. His great-grandfather was beaten to death by the Klu Klux Klan for attempting to vote. His grandfather was prevented from voting by Klan intimidation; his father was barred by poll taxes and literacy tests. Today, Cotton cannot vote because he, like many black men in the United States, has been labeled a felon and is currently on parole. —FROM THE NEW JIM CROW

As the United States celebrates the nation’s “triumph over race” with the election of Barack Obama, the majority of young black men in major American cities are locked behind bars or have been labeled felons for life.  Although Jim Crow laws have been wiped off the books, an astounding percentage of the African American community remains trapped in a subordinate status — much like their grandparents before them.

In this incisive critique, former litigator-turned-legal-scholar Michelle Alexander provocatively argues that we have not ended racial caste in America: we have simply redesigned it.  Alexander shows that, by targeting black men and decimating communities of color, the U.S. criminal justice system functions as a contemporary system of racial control, even as it formally adheres to the principle of color blindness.  The New Jim Crow challenges the civil rights community — and all of us — to place mass incarceration at the forefront of a new movement for racial justice in America.
A longtime civil rights advocate and litigator, Michelle Alexander was a 2005 Soros Justice Fellow. She holds a joint appointment at the Moritz College of Law and the Kirwan Institute for the Study of Race and Ethnicity in Columbus, Ohio, where she lives. The New Jim Crow is her first book.

Fall 2009
hardcover
6 1/8 x 9 1/4, 304 pages
978-1-59558-103-7

The New Press