The recent incident in which an African-American Harvard Professor was arrested by Cambridge police after forcing his way into his own home has sparked much debate. And a recent discussion on Facebook has forced me to look at my own views, not so much on race, but on why I (as a white male) distrust the police.
I will try to refrain from my usual colorful language because my Facebook comment that "law enforcement tends not to draw from the deep end of the gene pool" has already caused its share of backlash.
With that said (or not said), let's move on.
The aim of law enforcement at the local, state, or federal level, is to keep order. Now that may mean several things. It may, for example, mean following the letter of the law. Or the spirit of the law. Or it may mean ensuring that those who have money and power keep their money and power. But in the broadest sense, and that most applicable to local law enforcement, it means that anyone who disturbs the calm ordered progression of societal commerce is, by definition, suspect. And while that can and obviously does include the mugger, the arsonist, the rapist, ad the murderer...it also includes the diabetic who is driving erratically because he is having a medical crisis, the driver who is speeding because he and his family are racing to the hospital to see a dying loved one, and the professor trying to gain access to his home after heat has caused the door to swell shut. These people, tho guilty of no crime, have disturbed the calm and ordered commerce of society. And while it would seem that law enforcement officers should help them, rather that treat them as criminals, there is no provision for such aid in the police code of conduct. And when that situation is added to the preexisting issues of race in America, you have what might be called a perfect storm...resulting in mistreatment of the very people that law enforcement should be helping, and a public relations nightmare for whatever local police department is involved.
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When I was called for jury duty a few years ago, I was astounded at how many prospective jurors raised their hands when asked if they were related to, married to, or knew a police officer. So I am sure that many people do have a positive emotional tie to law enforcement. I am just not one of those people.
My grandfather was a small-time numbers runner and occasional bootlegger, so in one sense, my people played for the other team. Also, as a recovering drunk, I've known alot of basically good guys who have done (or are doing) time.
My personal encounters with law enforcement have been less than stellar:
• In the summer of 1985, my girlfriend and I were renting a room in a group house just off the Penn campus. We heard a disturbance outside and when we opened the door were greeted with the sight of a couple fighting outside their car (which had been hastily pulled to the curb). Soon the guy picked up a 2x4 and was hitting the girl with it. My girlfriend hollered some choice words at him, while I ran inside and called the cops. When the police arrived, they gave the guy a "talking to" and sent everyone on their way. After he was BEATING HER WITH A BOARD. When my girlfriend (a vocal feminist and now lawyer) asked the officer in charge, "What the fuck?", she was told to stay out of it, it was just a "domestic." Again, the guy was beating his girlfriend WITH A BOARD. You'd think that'd earn him a night in jail, at least. Now, did race play a part? All participants were white. Would the outcome have differed had the perpetrator been African American? I'll let you answer that one.
• More recently, in October 2004, I inadvertently locked myself out of my own car while it was running. (Don't buy a Subaru, they have no warning bell when you leave the keys in your car.) Admittedly, it was a stupid thing to do. But I had my share of distractions that day. Cecily was in the hospital, having just lost our twin sons to preeclampsia. I was with my Alzheimer's-suffering mother, running an errand at her local drug store. And so I left they keys in the ignition. The drug store manager called the police, and an officer soon arrived with a slim-jim. Before opening the car, he asked if I had my registration. "Yes," I told him, "in the glovebox." He needed to see it, he said, to be sure I wasn't trying to steal the car. I cannot imagine the scenario under which a guy (with his hapless and demented mom in tow) happens upon a locked car, running with the keys in it, and CALLS THE POLICE TO HELP HIM STEAL IT. I'm neither that stupid nor that brave. So when the officer did jimmy the door, I produced my registration. Of course, my luck, it was an old card and no longer current. I suggested the officer check the sticker on the plate, which WAS current. I was lucky, he informed me, that he didn't cite me for expired registration. Again, both I and the officer were white. I cannot imagine making my case to him had I been African American.
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And now just a few impressions. Cops on TV are always sensitive, insightful, intelligent human beings of deep compassion and feeling. And just like the picture on the menu never quite matches the food that arrives on your plate, actual officers have, in my experience, seemed, well, less than insightful, compassionate, or intelligent.
I am a big supporter of Civilian Review Boards for every police force for the simple reasons 1) that unfettered power is likely to be abused, and 2) that groups with a shared power interest (be they investment bankers, priests, or fraternity brothers) tend to cover-up the transgressions of their members.
So, whatever the outcome of the Gates fiasco, I'm not likely to feel all warm and fuzzy about law enforcement in the near future.
