By Kevin D. Williamson
Tuesday, June 23, 2020
The recent run of violence inside the hot zone of
militia-occupied Seattle — a teenager has been shot dead, another man suffered
life-threatening gunshot wounds, etc. — is the least surprising development of
the episode. Of course there’s violence: You can call your dopey little
Champagne Radical playground the Republic of CHAZ or the more Jacobin-aligned
CHOP, but those are Americans in there — somebody’s going to get shot.
Every bad shooting by a police officer (and many of the
justifiable ones) is taken to be an important and indisputable indicator of the
corruption and racism of the corporate cultures of police departments. Will the
militia in Seattle apply the same thinking to itself and the community it has
created? If not, why not? Autonomy brings with it responsibility.
A state, as Max Weber defined it, is a geographically
defined monopoly on violence. A state operates over a given territory, though
the borders may be disputed, and it claims for itself the sole legitimate use of
coercive physical force, though this monopoly may be violated by criminals or
challenged by revolutionaries. A state has the power to tax, to impose fines,
or to seize assets, actions that would be understood as robbery or extortion if
undertaken by a non-state actor; a state has the power to arrest and
incarcerate; i.e., to legitimately engage is what would otherwise be understood
as kidnapping and hostage-taking. A state can put people to death through
capital punishment, though relatively few modern states choose to do so, and
states claim the power to legitimately put to death the citizens of other
countries and destroy their property in war.
The word violence has taken on pejorative
connotations. We are nice people, and we do not like to think too much about
violence. And perhaps it is the case that violence is a lamentable means even
when it is used toward desirable ends. It wasn’t persuasion that freed the
slaves, and it wasn’t the Emancipation Proclamation — it was men doing violence
under the flag of the United States, led by General Ulysses S. Grant, a statue
of whom was just pulled down by the illiterate cretins in San Francisco. (What
we are not talking about: More than a third of San Francisco’s black population
has been driven out of the city since 1990, and it wasn’t General Grant who did
that.) It was not rhetoric that ended the Third Reich and stopped the Holocaust
— it was violence on a massive scale. If you are lucky enough to live in a
place where you are secure in your person and your property (which is to say,
not in Seattle), then you should know that it is not the milk of human kindness
that keeps you so — it is violence and the threat of violence.
For libertarians, this provides a useful if very limited
heuristic for judging limits on state action: If you wouldn’t be willing to
walk over to your neighbor’s house and stick a gun in his face over the issue,
then maybe you shouldn’t deputize the state to kick in his door and stick a gun
in his face over the issue on your behalf. This is, of course, a very rough
rule of thumb, and in the real world legislation and regulation are necessarily
(really, it can’t be helped) far too complex to satisfy the more simplistic
kind of moralistic demand. For example, I myself do not think that the state
has any business sticking a gun in my face and telling me that I can’t buy a
Toyota because it comes from Japan and competes with American (put a big ol’
asterisk there) companies employing American workers — if Americans want to
sell me a car, let them build a better one at a better price. But the actual
implementation of trade is complex: For example, the United States, Germany,
and Japan do not have precisely the same automotive-safety regulations or the
same emissions rules, and these are not in all cases unreasonable impositions.
Coordinating complex design and production across multiple complex legal
environments multiplies complexity by complexity. There is nothing as simple as
Thou shalt not steal that will do in that situation.
Some of us may dream of one-sentence free-trade pacts
(“There shall be free trade between x and y”) rather than the
thousands of pages found in our actual trade compacts, but that ideal does not
stand up to very much investigation: Are we permitted to impose restrictions when
it comes to military equipment or sensitive intelligence technology? What about
local reservations when it comes to materials for publicly financed
infrastructure projects? Are programs that privilege veteran-owned businesses
in government contracting a violation of free trade? Decisions have to be made,
compromises have to be worked out, the fruit of those negotiations has to be
written down, and, presto!, the
USMCA runs 1,809 pages (1,572 pages for the text of the treaty, 237 pages of
supporting material). Somewhere in all that mess is probably a footnote about
the grading of soybean derivatives enshrining a regulation that I would not
choose, in isolation, to see enforced at the point of a federal bayonet. But
enforcing the terms of the treaty is a necessary function of the state, which
necessarily acts, in extremis, through violence.
The violence-based model of organizing community life (or
at least certain aspects of it) requires the employment of men with a capacity
for violence. American Sniper popularized the “wolf/sheep/sheepdog”
formulation, but there is a lot of wolf in a dog. (Canis familiaris is
directly descended from Canis lupus.) Some of the things that might make
you a good police officer or a good solider are also things that might make you
a good criminal: capacity for violence, openness to risk, physical courage,
aggression, etc. These are also characteristics that might make you more likely
to resort to force, including deadly force, in a stressful and dangerous
situation. Police forces disproportionately employ members of the prime
criminal demographic: young men. Young men account for about 73 percent of all
arrests and 80 percent of the violent-crime arrests.
Given the demographics, it is no surprise to find that
police officers commit a lot of crimes both on and off the job. The total
arrest rate for the general population is about 31 per 1,000, according to the
FBI; the arrest rate for property crimes is about 3.6 per 1,000 and the arrest
rate for violent crimes is about 1.6 per 1,000. (The bulk of the arrests are
for things classified neither as property crimes nor violent crimes, from drug
possession to unpaid speeding tickets.) By way of comparison, the rate for
officers of the New Orleans police department is 44 arrests per 1,000 officers;
in Milwaukee, it’s 37 arrests per thousand; in Norwich, Conn., it’s 62 arrests
per 1,000 officers; in Hackensack, N.J., it’s 77 per 1,000.
This information comes from a report titled “Police
Integrity Lost: A Study of Law Enforcement Officers Arrested,” by Philip
Matthew Stinson, John Liederbach, Steven P. Lab, and Steven L. Brewer Jr. There
are some caveats about that study that will be obvious to you if you read it,
largely having to do with how incidents are compiled. As the authors themselves
complain: “There are no comprehensive statistics available on problems with
police integrity, and no government entity collects data on all criminal
arrests of law enforcement officers in the United States.” The authors
continue:
The lack of data on police crime is
clearly a problem, since the development of strategies to mitigate police crime
in the least requires that they be documented and described in some sort of
systematic and generalizable manner. From an organizational perspective, more
comprehensive data could provide comparisons among agencies on rates of police
crime, and subsequently contribute to the development and implementation of
policies to deter police crime and lessen damage to police-community relations
in their aftermath. From a scholarly perspective, the collection, analysis, and
dissemination of more comprehensive police crime data could instigate studies
designed to identify significant correlates, explore relationships between
police crimes and more general forms of police deviance, and provide
information on how police culture and socialization potentially contribute to
the problem. Scholars have yet to fully pursue these and other important issues
associated with the problem of police crime because we lack any sort of
comprehensive data on the types of crime that police commit and how frequently
they commit them.
You can tell a lot about a society by what questions are
not asked.
The authors of the study posit that police criminality is
rooted partly in culture and partly in demographics. For example, a substantial
share of police crime is alcohol-related: “Excessive alcohol consumption is
certainly due at least in part to demographics and the over-representation of
young males among police officers, in particular patrol officers. Men are more
likely to have problems with alcohol than women, and alcohol use disorders are
most prevalent among 18-24 year-olds.” Partly, the issue is situational: How
many opportunities have you had to extort money from a drug dealer?
Most police crime happens off-duty, but, as the authors
report:
The data demonstrate that the
source of a significant portion of these so-called off-duty crimes also lies within
the context of police work and the perpetrator’s role as a police officer,
including instances where off-duty officers flash a badge, an official weapon,
or otherwise use their power, authority, and the respect afforded to them as a
means to commit crime. More broadly, the data show that police crime is not
solely or even primarily the product of deviant or defective people; but
rather, deviant or defective people who work within an occupational context
that provides them unique and unprecedented opportunities to perpetrate crimes
whether they are on or off-duty.
Another word for “deviant or defective people” is
“people.”
Human destructiveness is not a problem to be solved;
it is a problem to be managed. From the world of Leviathan
forward, we have attempted to manage the problem of disorganized violence with
organized violence in a framework of imperfect and imperfectly enforced rules
and formal procedures of accountability. If the people who are calling for
abolishing police — “Yes,
We Mean Literally Abolish the Police,” as activist Mariame Kaba put it in
the New York Times — succeed to any extent, they will face the same
basic problems. Whatever innovative public-safety models they dream up (and I
am open to many of these) will be handicapped by the same shortcomings that
characterize current police practice, i.e., the presence of human beings in the
system and the centrality of human judgment to that system’s operation. Kaba is
selling the usual utopian horsepucky, a promise that the same people who have
proved unable to reform police departments can reform the whole of human life,
building “a different society, built on cooperation instead of individualism,
on mutual aid instead of self-preservation. What would the country look like if
it had billions
of extra dollars to spend on housing, food and education for all?” We can
answer that question, in a way: As a result of the so-called Great Society, we
did put many billions of extra dollars into housing, food, and education for
all. The result? Minneapolis, Detroit, Cleveland . . . Tinkerbell may look
dead, but keep clapping! “This change in society wouldn’t happen immediately,”
Kaba writes — you don’t say — “but the protests show that many people are ready
to embrace a different vision of safety and justice.” Perhaps they do show
that.
And the murders in militia-occupied Seattle show that
they can’t have it.
Incidentally . . .
About the foregoing, I will say this: If I were betting my own money on it, I would not bet on Donald Trump’s being reelected in November. But if there were an exceedingly clever conspiracy to get Trump reelected, it would look like what’s happening in Seattle right now, like Mariame Kaba’s daft New York Times essay, all these panicked Vox readers being stampeded into promising to disband the police departments, etc.
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