Jail Ain't Justice
The only semblance of justice for people who died by the system is the death of the system.
Yesterday, Brett Hankison, one of three officers that Black America wanted to be arrested for the murder of Breonna Taylor, was the sole officer charged for their actions that March night. He wasn’t charged for murder or manslaughter, but three counts of wanton endangerment for shooting into nearby apartments. The light charge reeks of Louisville DA Daniel Cameron feeling compelled to do something to quell potential backlash from citizens while placating the blue wall.
The solitary charge wasn’t received as justice for anyone who had been seeking it in the six months since Taylor’s death. But what is “justice” here, anyway? No charge or policy equals the loss of life. Was Breonna Taylor’s murder an anomalous instance of police brutality, or is the police system inherently brutal? If you agree with me that it’s the latter, then what’s the definition of “justice” for her, or anyone assailed by the state? How can we possibly seek justice via an unjust system?
America has socialized us to consider “justice” for death to be a prison sentence that makes the aggriever feel like they’re dying. But no one is better in that instance. Harm isn’t undone. Society doesn’t change by one, or several people’s incarceration. The Bureau Of Prisons spends $80 billion a year on punitive punishment when that money could be better spent on a society without brutal policing and warehousing. While some people would have felt satisfied with the officers going to jail, the next police killing would just expose the impotence of demanding racial justice from a racist system. All summer, there’s been police violence at protests fighting police violence.
In June, St. Louis rapper and activist T-Dubb-O recalled on Instagram that “30+ cops crashed” his studio. He also said they “threatened to kill us all. Whispered they didn’t get us during Ferguson, be quiet or they will get us this time.” Calls for accountability only rile the police.
Earlier this week, LMPD Sgt. Jonathan Mattingly, one of the other cops being investigated in Taylor’s death, sent a lengthy email to over 1,000 officers framing the fight for racial equality as “good vs. evil.” His comments highlight the ambiguity of virtue-signals like “truth,” “good,” “morality” and “evil,” especially in a country built on hate. An unequal system produces few societal truths. The ideas we perceive to be absolute are a matter of perspective. Mattingly believes that “we did the legal, moral and ethical thing that night.” Many others believe the complete opposite. Reform isn’t going to change either side’s mentality. Where do we go from here?
The carceral state will not fix the carceral state. The cost of justice is more than cuffs. The prison system works symbiotically with the police system to enforce violence and racial inhumanity. How could they condemn each other? They’re key cogs of American empire. Incarcerated people are free labor that sustains capitalism. Prison is a brutal venue responsible for the violent trauma that causes recidivism — and sustains free labor. The carceral state is a business model, not a solution.
Yesterday I almost tweeted about “not understanding what people expected” from the verdict but I know better. There are intelligent, charismatic, well-spoken Black people who financially benefit from the status quo. These are the figures who fixate on the solitary action of voting with no mention of who, or what, we’re actually voting for — because acknowledging the system’s illegitimacy sabotages the Democratic party line. They tell us that the system is broken, knowing full well that it’s been fixed against us for 400 years. They shame radical theory, and project oppression as a case-by-case, day-by-day, “it’s only a matter of time” fight instead of a matter of abolition. It’s no wonder that so many of us, indoctrinated by this centrist spell, seek solitary placations and genuinely expect the plunderers to condemn themselves. We’ve been immersed in an illusion that’s hard to unlearn.
Recently, I’ve been interested in the concept of Afropessimism. One of the theory’s Taos, as I understand it, is that Black people are not considered human by the western definition of the term, and we are actually “socially dead.” As Vinson Cunningham interpreted Frank B. Wilderson’s theory, “the state of slavery, for Black people, is permanent: every Black person is always a slave and, therefore, a perpetual corpse.”
For a bit, my hubris dissuaded me from engaging such a theory. But Hankison was charged for shooting at property; no one was charged with shooting Taylor. Our cries over Taylor and George Floyd’s deaths were overshadowed by the establishment’s cries about looted stores and burning buildings. For whiteness to understand that windows are replaceable but Black lives are not, it would have to care about individual Black lives. In America, as is, we’re just capital. The current system was created with Black people as subhuman cogs of industry, and I’m realizing that it can only be that. Some people may interpret that realization as a depressing, self-defeating affirmation. But broaching the idea only compels my desire for abolition, because I know we regard ourselves as so much more.
We owe ourselves more than to beg the establishment for a conciliatory gesture that Taylor, or any Black life, mattered to them. We owed Breonna more than memage. She deserves more than to have her legacy become fodder for America’s bread and circuses, trivialized by people seeking PR points. This moment has angered, saddened, and disheartened so many people. Hopefully, it also radicalizes us all.
There is no reforming any of this. The system will not destroy itself. We can’t expect to play legal wack-a-mole, arresting the occasional cop and calling that progress — until the next murder happens. Even if every officer involved in her death were given life sentences, that’s not a blip for a police system that will continue its function of violating Black people until it’s abolished. The only semblance of justice for people who died by the system is the death of the system.
This is a free newsletter. Those who wish to support can contribute here:
Venmo: Andre-Gee
Thank u Andre.
A couple questions as usual:
1 - what’s your favorite work of Wilkerson?
2 - how do you try to live abolitionist principles in your life?
3 - u heard Rocky Badd’s latest work? 🔥 🔥 🔥