When my soon-to-be 19-year-old son texted the other day to inform me that he would be participating in protests against police shootings of young black men, I felt some unease. Just the day before, a similar protest in Dallas ended in tragedy when a protester opened fire on the police, killing five and seriously injuring seven others. It was not an auspicious moment to go to demonstrate.
Still, I called my son to give himmy support, albeit a tepid one. I advised him to be watchful of people around him who may have different objectives. And at the slightest sign of violence, he was to get away. He assured me that he had intended to do all of that.
What I didn’t tell my son is that I am ambivalent about the value of such protests.
At the outset of the “Black Lives Matter” movement last year, I found myself in the odd position of turning down the invitation of a white colleague and friend to join the protests with her.
The one and only time I participated in a demonstration was in summer 1977, when I was an undergraduate. The event was the then annual African Liberation Day march organised by the black activist Stokely Carmichael. To participate, I journeyed by hired bus from near Dayton, Ohio to Washington, D.C.
It was not so much out of any ideological convictions, political fervency or grand expectations. It was more of the youthful inclination to be a part of something. Besides, my fervent black American girlfriend was going and it behooved me to go along.
Clad in white attire, we marched through the streets of Washington, by the White House and the National Mall, with the summer sun beating down quite harshly on us. The keynote speaker was, of course, Carmichael himself. His lengthy speech covered everything from the commonality of the black experience in the United States and Africa to unity and economic empowerment.
If the objective was to enlighten and inspire, the occasion was worth it. But that didn’t require rallying around Washington brandishing placards. We could have done that at a conference venue anywhere. What eluded me was how the demonstration affected Washington’s policies and diplomacy.
The same is true of much of the “Black Lives Matter” protests. Though I very strongly share the concerns, I don’t know what most of the protests are expected to accomplish, let alone what they can accomplish.
During the heyday of the civil rights movement, protests had clear objectives and were accordingly targeted. The historical Selma-to-Montgomery march, for example, had the specific objective of dramatically presenting a petition to the Alabama
State Government to desegregate public institutions and grant rights that were denied to blacks.
State Government to desegregate public institutions and grant rights that were denied to blacks.
The same could be said of protests in Ferguson, Missouri, after the questionable killing of an unarmed young black man there. The protests were targeted at the municipal government to force changes. Before the protests, the predominantly black city had a predominantly white police force and city government. The protests forced changes in this regard.
In contrast, when the police in a city in Louisiana and Minnesota wantonly shoot and kill two young black men, I am not sure what protests in Texas and Alabama would accomplish.
Moreover, some of the protests are in cities that should be applauded. For example, Birmingham already has an exploratory programme for improving police-community relations, and Dallas has dramatically reduced incidents of police shootings. What more would protests in these cities accomplish?
Perhaps it is a matter of catharsis, just venting the frustration of watching unacceptable events repeated over and over. When an unarmed young black man was shot and killed in Ferguson, Missouri in August 2014, I suspended judgment. Police said there was a robbery-in-progress in the area. And in the darkness, the policeman may have honestly misjudged the young man’s intent.
But how would one explain a chokehold that killed another young black man in New York for the offence of selling cigarettes on the street corner? How did another young black man have his spinal cord broken, resulting in his death while in police custody in Baltimore?
Why would a policeman in Baton Rouge, Louisiana shoot someone who had been subdued on the ground by him and other officers? They said the man was reaching for his gun. But why couldn’t they stop the reach and secure the gun themselves?
Why would a highway patrol shoot a black woman who refused to put off the cigarette she was smoking to calm down her nerves after being pulled over for a tenuous reason?
Might the police be unduly fearful for their lives because of the proliferation of guns in the United States? But then, why would a policeman point his gun at a young black woman in a bikini who was fleeing from a swimming pool?
For that matter, why do such incidents so often involve a white policeman and a black person? Is there a perception issue, the notion that young blacks are violence prone? Why do juries and judges almost always acquit the policemen? And why is a sizable number of whites unfazed by it all?
There are so many questions and so few answers. Any wonder people turn to protests without specific objectives.
What is anomalous is what happened in Dallas. There a young black man, using his experience as a former army reservist, ambushed and massacred innocent white policemen. He said it was to avenge the killings of young black people like himself. But that’s lunacy. By his logic, policemen anywhere in the country could similarly massacre any group of black people anywhere.
When I heard of the killing of the Dallas policemen, I immediately thought of my recent travel through the Dallas airport on a return trip from Los Angeles. I couldn’t help thinking that some of the murdered and injured police officers may have ensured my safe trip.
Back to the protest in Birmingham that my son joined. Because of the killings in Dallas, it turned into a solidarity rally — solidarity against wanton killings of whomever by whomever. The protesters shook hands with the police to express appreciation for their service. In turn, the police offered assurances that they were in the service of protecting not killing.
Too often in life, our perceptual prisms get in the way of solidarity. The “protest” in Birmingham demonstrates that it doesn’t have to be that way.
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