Category: Policing

  • A "Safety Ambassador" with the Downtown Ventura Partners Improvement District hands out a free face mask on August 11, 2020, in Los Angeles, CA.

    Woven into the municipal fabric of the U.S. is a little-known mechanism of privatization and corporate control: the Business Improvement District (BID). In hundreds of urban centers, invisible borders designate zones wherein local governments have granted control of the commons to private interests. Within the bounds of a BID, its corporate operators are empowered to contract for-profit companies to clean streets, make aesthetic and tourism upgrades and, more insidiously, enforce “security” in collaboration with police. In practice, this often results in the exclusion and harassment of populations that businesses find “undesirable” — anyone that is perceived as a threat to consumer activity and profit, and especially the unhoused.

    BIDs are not unlike private governments; autonomous and often opaque, many operate free from meaningful oversight. From their financial structures to their influence on policy, they are typical of corporate privatization in that they divert public resources to serve the interests of the ownership class. The recent renewal of a multi-year BID contract in Portland, Oregon, rammed through against significant public opposition, was representative of the sort of unilateralism and impunity that characterizes BID operations. Analogous dynamics can be found across the United States, replicated within the over 1,200 BIDs nationwide.

    The Imposition of BIDs

    The BID model was first proposed in the 1970s by business interests in Toronto, Canada. Citing what they perceived as inadequate state maintenance services, they developed the concept to confer those powers upon themselves. BIDs have since proliferated, their mandate expanding to include security, marketing and political advocacy, including anti-homeless lobbying. They can wield considerable influence over local governments, often with the latter’s willing collaboration.

    Paul Boden, executive director of the Western Regional Advocacy Project (WRAP), a homeless rights coalition, told Truthout, “Local governments across the country have decided that our neighborhoods, sidewalks, plazas and parks are theirs to negotiate away to business entities. [BIDs] are seeking to transform our neighborhoods to best suit the interests of the largest, overwhelmingly corporate property owners.”

    Commercial areas in Portland are overlaid with a trio of BID zones, known locally as Enhanced Services Districts (ESDs). The largest of these, the innocuously titled Clean & Safe, was scheduled for a reassessment of its 10-year contract in September 2021. Sidestepping activist demands, public testimony and the recommendations of the city’s own auditors, Portland’s City Council pressed ahead, voting 4-1 to renew the contract for five years. To placate opponents, minor alterations were allowed: a cap on armed security guards, a mental health team and complaint reporting measures. Such marginal concessions did little to address deeper concerns about discriminatory policing and extractive financial structures. Councilor Jo Ann Hardesty, responsive to public outcry, remained the lone vote against.

    The eagerness to renew the contract against all opposition and resident testimony is indicative of the sway of business interests over the council and Mayor Ted Wheeler — especially the leverage of the powerful Portland Business Alliance (PBA), the Chamber of Commerce equivalent that operates (and profits from) Clean & Safe. An auditor described the closely entwined PBA-Clean & Safe power structure as “a city within a city.”

    Without the work of WRAP and allied organizers in Portland, the Clean & Safe contract renewal would have occurred behind closed doors, shielded from public input entirely. Activists successfully applied pressure to the city council to open the process to testimony. This testimony, along with an email campaign, resulted in the more sympathetic Councilor Hardesty introducing an amendment to delay the renewal. (It was voted down by the rest of the council.)

    WRAP-organized protests, research and public awareness efforts around BIDs have been ongoing for years, surfacing invaluable information on their iniquitous practices and unaccountability. In fact, oversight of Portland’s BIDs was so wanting that without pressure from WRAP, a damning audit in August 2020 may never have been conducted — it was WRAP that first brought the iniquitous influence of the districts to the attention of the auditor’s office.

    The End Clean & Safe coalition, comprising WRAP, the ACLU of Oregon, Stop the Sweeps PDX, Portland Jobs With Justice, the Portland Democratic Socialists of America, and numerous others, ran a campaign during the lead-up to the contract renewal to inform residents about the obscured realities of the structures in their city, urging them to testify in opposition. Activists also organized rallies against the renewal, among many other tireless efforts.

    Among the WRAP activists who opposed the Clean & Safe contract is researcher Kaitlyn Dey. “This contract renewal is a testament to the egregious influence the Portland Business Alliance has over our city. And this isn’t unique to Portland,” Dey told Truthout. “BIDs have managed to grasp control of numerous city councils in order to maintain policing and lobbying activities that directly harm unhoused people.”

    Private Cops, Public Spaces

    A central critique of the BID model is its role in exacerbating the criminalization of the unhoused. In the United States, rife with economic austerity and housing insufficiency, a catastrophic homelessness crisis has been growing for decades. In response, the state has proven its readiness to resort to punishment and exclusion, repressing unhoused populations with measures like sit/lie ordinances, encampment sweeps and bans on panhandling, camping, vehicle dwelling and food sharing. BIDs encourage and capitalize on these practices, both by lobbying for anti-homeless legislation and through their own direct enforcement.

    This is certainly the case in Portland. The city audit released in August 2020 confirmed what activists had long contended: Clean & Safe and the other BIDs intensify policing. According to auditors, their “enhanced law enforcement or criminal justice services create a risk of disparate outcomes compared to other parts of the city.” In 2017, over 50 percent of arrests by police in Portland were of the unhoused. Outside of BID boundaries, the average rate of arrest of unhoused people per square mile was 6.1. Within them, it was a staggering 137.7.

    These dynamics are not exceptional, and are just as pernicious elsewhere. Portland, with a total of three, actually has comparatively few BIDs — New York City alone has 76, and California has 200 altogether. Roughly another thousand are strewn throughout the United States. A study of Californian BIDs conducted by the UC Berkeley School of Law concluded that “BID involvement in social services is experienced by homeless people as an additional form of policing, surveillance and harassment.” The report surveyed BIDs in 69 California cities and conducted in-depth case studies of the model in Berkeley, Chico, Los Angeles, Oakland, Sacramento, San Diego and San Francisco. Researchers found that more than 90 percent “coordinate closely with local police departments — and sometimes use their own private security — to enforce anti-homeless laws and otherwise exclude or remove homeless people from their districts.… Enforcement in California is growing and is increasingly based on homeless people’s status, rather than their behavior.”

    Portland’s Clean & Safe fields both armed security guards and four Portland Police Bureau officers — public employees in the pay of private enterprise, a kind of mercenary activity that raises obvious conflicts of interest. The injustices and intrinsic biases of law enforcement are reinforced by the perverse incentives within BID borders that compel the exclusion of “undesirable” individuals at the behest of business.

    Barbra Weber lived outdoors for a year and a half on Portland’s NW Davis St., where she experienced the enforcement arm of Clean & Safe firsthand. “What the police and Clean & Safe would do is they wouldn’t let anybody sleep…. Sleep deprivation is one tool they use. Sometimes they’ll just outright lie to you and tell you you’re on private property, or you’re bothering this business,” Weber told Truthout. “We went through this on a daily basis…. They’ll say they saw somebody using drugs or something, so they have a reason to call the police, and the police come and harass them.”

    Weber says that Clean & Safe and police are directly responsive to requests from business owners. “They claim that we’re stopping their business from making money. I understand if there’s an incident, but these things are happening when there’s not an incident — somebody’s just sitting there.… They don’t even consider us human beings.”

    Some BIDs extend their influence beyond the streets and into criminal legal systems. In Portland, it was found that BIDs were paying the salaries of dedicated assistant district attorneys and funding a community court in hopes of increasing enforcement. Further, some of those convicted by this BID-funded court were sentenced to community service for the BID’s own cleaning program, performing at least a million dollars’ worth of free labor: a complete circle of exploitation. A similar pattern was unveiled in St. Louis, Missouri. In Bogan v. Bonner, a state court ruled a community court unconstitutional, as the court and the presiding judge were in the direct pay of a local BID.

    Structures of Profiteering

    The problems with the BID model extend beyond their role in criminalization. The creation of a BID largely circumvents public input. They can be instituted by cities at the request of business or property interests, which, most commonly, petition the government to establish the zone and form a nonprofit to operate it.

    As in the recent case of Portland, cities and business have overridden public opposition in creating or renewing the zones. In California, the decision to found a BID is put to a vote among affected property owners. However, in Los Angeles, among other cities, it is the largest owners that have a disproportionate say — votes scale with property value. In a BID vote in Los Angeles’s Chinatown, this weighting tipped the scales to keep a BID structure intact; the same occurred when the City used its weighted votes to push through a Venice Beach BID against majority opposition.

    BID overseers collect fees from both private and public property owners in-district, “fund[ing] their activities partly with assessments on publicly owned buildings — in effect, using taxpayer money to achieve their goals,” noted the Berkeley report. This siphoning of public and private funds alike is facilitated by a legally binding assessment fee structure that is tantamount to private taxation.

    Some who own properties in the district object to the levied fees, questioning the utility of improvement programs and aspects of their financing. One point of conflict over the Clean & Safe renewal centered on the fact that, as Willamette Week reported, Clean & Safe funds are channeled to the Portland Business Alliance, paying 45 percent of PBA staffing costs. These types of exploitative practices reflect a dearth of oversight and a fundamental accountability problem with the BID model.

    Furthermore, BID income is commonly put toward lobbying in favor of criminalization ordinances. From the Berkeley report: California BIDs “advocate for anti-homeless policies … [using] property assessment revenue, including from public properties,” in violation of state law. The report also found a close correlation between the rising number of California BIDs and an increase in anti-homeless ordinances.

    Examples abound: BIDs fervently supported sit/lie ordinances in San Francisco, while in Berkeley, a BID CEO was a major financial backer of another sit/lie law. To support a Chico, California anti-homeless ordinance, a BID coordinated with police and encouraged its members to attend and testify at city council meetings. A BID in Los Angeles advocated that the municipal code be amended “to preserve the city’s ability to confiscate homeless people’s property.” Relatedly, in 2017, the City of Los Angeles settled a lawsuit alleging that Los Angeles Police Department officers led BID contractors to confiscate the property of unhoused individuals, while threatening to arrest anyone who attempted to stop them. For their part, the California legislature has also been complicit: A 1994 law reduced oversight of BIDs and broadened their power to collect and spend revenue.

    BIDs can be found lobbying against a payroll tax on big business in Seattle, or, in Denver, urging the city to pass a camping ban, then enforcing it. A BID in Washington, D.C. took over management of a public park and moved to expel unhoused people that had gathered there. California BIDs have also acted collectively, partnering together in a statewide alliance to oppose an act that would have limited anti-homeless laws in the state legislature. And, in a telling example, this coalition worked to defeat the passage of an unhoused bill of rights.

    BIDs, of which the public is largely unaware, effectively grant private interests an arm of forcible social control, which they readily deploy to ward off perceived threats to the flow of profit. It’s true that they may contribute to city beautification and urban improvements, and some do at least attempt to connect unhoused people with services. But any fringe benefits of the model do not justify its exploitative architecture. It is not necessary to cede public spaces to private control, empowering business conglomerates to make decisions affecting the public square, in order to achieve the same ends.

    BIDs worsen the discriminatory policing already ubiquitous in U.S. society and represent another conduit of the creeping privatization of public services. The result is that inequalities are reinscribed: The unhoused and underserved, the majority of them people of color, are immiserated, subjected to harassment and punishment and driven deeper into abjection. These structures represent another incarnation of the primacy of the profit motive over civil rights in the United States — and the unconscionable human toll that those imperatives exact.

    Weber, reflecting on her experience with Portland’s BID police and security, said that their treatment was the source of “some of the roughest times I had to go through as a homeless person. You’re living on the streets, doing everything you can, you’re feeding each other and taking care of each other. And that’s offensive to them. Why?”

    This post was originally published on Latest – Truthout.

  • 7 October 2021 marks the first anniversary of the death of Lamont Roper, a young Black man who died during a police pursuit in Tottenham, London. He was found dead in a canal having been pursued by officers. And on the anniversary, Roper’s family speak out for the first time, saying he wouldn’t have jumped in of his own accord because he was “terrified of water”.

    Another death following police contact

    Roper, a 23-year-old Black man, fell into the Tottenham’s River Lea after a police chase on 7 October 2020. He was found dead in the water the next day. Speaking out for the first time on the first anniversary of his death, Roper’s family told INQUEST:

    We do not believe that he would have entered the water voluntarily as he could not swim and was terrified of water.

    On 7 October 2020, plain-clothes Metropolitan Police officers approached Roper and a group of friends. Officer PC Collins proceeded to pursue Roper along the River Lea towpath. Both Collins and Roper were riding electric bikes. It remains unclear how Roper came off his bike. But according to INQUEST, Roper fell into the water following Collins’ use of force. 

    The Met Police Marine Unit and London Fire Brigade searched the river that night, but called it off around midnight. On 8 October, a Met Police diver found Roper “within a couple of minutes”. He was pronounced dead at the scene. An inquest into Roper’s death opened in 2020, with the final hearing due to take place between 22 and 30 November 2021.

    Still searching for answers

    Some of the officers present during the pursuit activated their body worn video cameras. But Collins did not. One year on from Roper’s death, his bereaved family is still seeking access to the existing footage.

    Roper’s family released a statement on the first anniversary of his death. They told INQUEST:

    We still have so many unanswered questions about how Lamont lost his life… We hope that the inquest into his death will robustly explore the circumstances of his death and in particular how he came to be in the water. We miss him every day and will not give up the fight for the truth.

    Towards abolitionist alternatives

    Sadly, Roper’s case is not an anomaly. On 6 April, 17-year-old Ronaldo Johnson died as a result of injuries sustained during a pursuit by Greater Manchester Police officers. Kids of Colour and the Northern Police Monitoring Project campaigners joined Johnson’s bereaved family and friends on 6 October to remember the young man’s life and demand justice for his untimely death:

    There have been at least 432 deaths during or following police pursuits in England and Wales since 1990. In spite of these figures and recent tragedies, the government’s draconian Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Bill proposes to further increase officers’ powers when pursuing people.

    We have seen an increase in anti-police sentiment following then serving police officer Wayne Couzens’ false arrest, kidnapping, rape and murder of Sarah Everard, and the heavy-handed policing of her vigil in Clapham.

    Deaths during or following some sort of police contact are tragically familiar. Since 1990, there have been at least 1,797 deaths in police custody or following police contact in England and Wales. Racially minoritised people are overrepresented in these numbers. In spite of these significant figures, the June 2021 conviction of PC Benjamin Monk for the killing of Dalian Atkinson was the first time in 35 years that a UK police officer had been found guilty of manslaughter following a death in police contact or custody.

    Stressing the importance of remembering all victims of state violence, one Twitter user said:

     

    Drawing attention to the under-reported inquest into Shane Bryant’s death at the hands of police, another Twitter user shared:

    While bereaved families and friends continue to seek answers, communities and campaigners continue to seek ways to resist state violence. For example, direct action feminist group Sisters Uncut recently announced plans to launch a network of CopWatch patrols to intervene in policing on the streets, and prevent more deaths in police custody. Anyone looking to get involved in the group’s police intervention training can sign up here.

    These recent tragedies and the government’s plans to further increase police powers demonstrate just how vital it is that we continue to resist state violence, which preys on the most vulnerable and marginalised in society. It’s time to maximise current anti-police sentiment and build a sustainable, broad-based movement towards accountability and abolitionist alternatives.

    Featured image via Tadas Petrokas/Unsplash

    By Sophia Purdy-Moore

    This post was originally published on The Canary.

  • This article originally appeared at Eoin Higgins’ newsletter, The Flashpoint.

    “I couldn’t resist!!!”

    That’s the last line of a particularly racist email sent by Leyden, Massachusetts Police Chief Daniel Galvis to town officials and fellow officers on March 8, 2016.

    The email, a chain forward called “FW: How Is Tarzan Doing?” ends with the noble savage telling a nameless third party that a chimpanzee named “Cheetah” got plastic surgery, married a lawyer, and lives in the White House. A photo of a chimp and a photo of Michelle Obama are then juxtaposed as the punchline.

    The email was shared with the public during a Select Board hearing on September 7 on whether or not to reappoint Sgt. Tina Riddell. The hearing, which ended with Riddell not being reinstated despite significant public support, hinged on her treatment by Galvis and the general culture in the small town’s police department.

    Other emails from Galvis, some of which are included at the bottom of this article, make similarly crude and racist jokes—and were sent to the very members of town government who are now being asked to hold the chief accountable.

    “There’s a lot more under the surface”

    The Select Board’s staunch support of Galvis has residents in this small western Massachusetts town frustrated.

    According to the Greenfield Recorder:

    During the Sept. 7 meeting, Select Board member Bill Glabach described the use of the emails in Riddell’s argument as a “character assassination” and questioned their relevance to the current events. Select Board member Jeff Neipp also interjected, saying that “Galvis is not on trial.”

    Erica Jensen, the board’s newest member—and who was not a recipient to the emails from 2015 and 2016—told me that the revelations of the emails have led to “a call to action for a number of people in town that Galvis should either be forced to resign, asked to resign, or replaced, or fired.”

    “I think that there’s a lot more under the surface,” she added.

    The Recorder’s reporting bears that out.

    When asked if the jokes were something he realized now were inappropriate and would not be sent today, Galvis said the emails were from “way before all this changed,” referring to the social climate and attention on policing race relations and the Black Lives Matter movement.

    While the emails are only as recent as 2016, Riddell alleges recent behaviors emphasized her concern. While attending training at a firing range with other officers on Nov. 21, 2020, Riddell claims Galvis referenced a silhouette target down-range and asked “What is this, an unarmed Black guy?”

    Multiple attempts to reach Galvis, through phone calls and emails, went unanswered. But in comment to the Recorder earlier this month, he said that the emails were sent “way before all this changed,” referring to the Black Lives Matter protests from 2020 over the death of George Floyd. At that time, Galvis said that Floyd deserved some of the blame for his own murder.

    Select Board Chair was a recipient of five emails

    Select Board Chair Neipp, a recipient of five of the seven publicly revealed emails and who defended Galvis during a recent meeting, hung up on me when I finally got through to him on Friday.

    One email Neipp was a recipient of was a grotesquely racist anti-Muslim tirade from December 6, 2015. The chair has denied seeing any of the offensive emails addressed to him.

    Sgt. Riddell’s attorney, Michael McHale, told the board that whether or not they had read the emails at the time, the invective in them should be enough to spur action now.

    “The contents of the emails are such that even though the most recent is from 2016, it gives me pause,” McHale said. “These alone should disqualify Galvis from being the police chief of any department.”

    That Neipp still has not seen the emails is, at best, a dubious claim, Jensen told me.

    “It’s an unusual thing to say that you didn’t read very particular emails that came from the official police department email,” Jensen said. “It would be unusual not to read something that came from the chief of police.”

    “It’s unacceptable”

    Leyden resident Sara Seinberg brought a petition to the next Select Board meeting on September 27 demanding Galvis resign immediately or be removed. The chief’s position is untenable, the petition said, because “unbiased application of the law is the primary function of law enforcement… this function has been irrevocably corrupted.”

    “We all know that no institution in the United States, public or private, would tolerate this racist content being shared through official communications without the swiftest and most severe consequences,” the petition added.

    According to Seinberg, Galvis’s racism is indicative of “the sickness of our nation.”

    “We cannot let these things just get swept under the rug,” Seinberg told me. “It’s unacceptable.”

    Some of the emails are reproduced below.

    September 3, 2015. Sent to Neipp as well as other town officials, including Galvis’s wife Gilda, a captain in the police department.

    December 6, 2015. Sent to Neipp as well as other town officials, including Galvis’s wife Gilda, a captain in the police department.

    March 30, 2016. Sent to town officials, including Galvis’s wife Gilda, a captain in the police department.

    March 8, 2016. Sent to town officials, including Galvis’s wife Gilda, a captain in the police department.

    The post Massachusetts Chief of Police Sends Racist Emails to Town Officials, Keeps Job appeared first on Shadowproof.

    This post was originally published on Shadowproof.

  • On 3 October, the government announced that it would make the Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Bill even worse. In a blustering attempt to show that they control the people, Patel and Johnson have said that they will seek to introduce a six-month custodial sentence, unlimited fines – or both – for obstructing a public highway. The current maximum punishment is a £1,000 fine.

    As more and more draconian laws are passed, and as more people are set to be imprisoned for dissent, it’s difficult to see how the government will uphold its façade to the rest of the world: that we are a country that values democracy.

    The announced amendment to the bill has come off the back of Insulate Britain’s motorway protests, which have been going on for weeks and have caused gridlock on the M25. And on 4 October, activists blocked three major routes in London.

    The government has already taken out an injunction on the activists, effectively making it an imprisonable offence to block the M25.

    The audacity of Johnson

    Johnson had the audacity to say that the right to protest is “sacrosanct”. He went on to say:

    This government will always stand on the side of the law-abiding majority, and ensure the toughest penalties possible for criminals who deliberately bring major roads to a standstill.

    Clearly, Johnson doesn’t grasp the point of protest. The whole reason we take to the streets (or motorways) is to try to bring about significant change. And yes, that will often mean that we’re not “law-abiding” when we’re protesting to change said-laws. It means that we might cause a “serious disruption“, something that the government is cracking down on in the new police bill. If we didn’t, what would be the point? But that’s exactly what Johnson and Patel want: a population too fearful to even sit in a road. To them, the extent of “sacrosanct” protest will be standing in a designated police pen, waving a pretty banner for a couple of hours, and then heading home.

    As Johnson announced that the government will crack down on “illegitimate” protesters, the Network for Police Monitoring (Netpol) pointed out that:

    Regimes deciding what is or isn’t “legitimate” protest is the kind of thing the Foreign Office has criticised when it involves repressive states the British government doesn’t like.

    Netpol told The Canary that the latest proposals are a continuing “vendetta against protest”. It went on to say:

    The poorly-conceived intention here is to make it easier for the police to hold detainees on remand until a trial, which they cannot do right now because blocking a road is not considered a serious enough offence.

    Imagine being held in prison until your trial because you joined a street protest. This is what could happen if Patel and Johnson have their way.

    Supreme Court ruling? Pah, we’ll just ignore it…

    The government’s announcement also completely ignores a recent Supreme Court ruling, which gives a “clear and unequivocal vindication of the right to obstructive protest”. In fact, the Supreme Court ruled that:

    Intentional actions by protesters to disrupt, by way of obstructing others, enjoys the guarantees of Articles 10 and 11 [of the Human Rights Act], and restriction on those rights will not necessarily be justified, even in a case such as this, where a road is blocked for 90 minutes.

    No wonder the government keeps threatening to strip us all of our pesky human rights

    Abusing stop and search powers

    The government has also promised to amend Section 60 powers to enable police to stop and search activists. Currently, Section 60 is only supposed to be an emergency measure for violent crime, and the police do not need ‘reasonable suspicion’ to search a person. In practice, however, the government abuses these powers – especially in Black communities.

    Netpol said of Johnson’s announcement:

    It will mean that anyone linked to a protest movement that has used civil disobedience tactics is liable to face targeting and harassment – for example, just for wearing a badge or carrying a protest banner that identifies them as a campaigner. This kind of criminalisation rarely succeeds but as these powers are used more often – and we suspect the police will embrace them eagerly – then it risks more people facing searches that have a chilling effect on their human rights.

    Slipping into totalitarianism

    The police bill, which is passing through the House of Lords, also strengthens the police’s ability to impose conditions on a protest, or arrest people if the noise from a protest causes people “serious unease“. According to Netpol, it also “introduces new offences for one person protests for breaching conditions based on noise and impact”. The bill will give the police far greater powers to look after corporate interests, effectively shutting down protest against companies and criminalising those who take part in a demonstration.

    On top of this, the bill will create a new statutory offence of public nuisance. In other words, actions that cause “serious distress, serious annoyance, serious inconvenience or serious loss of amenity”. According to Netpol:

    Previously, charges for public nuisance during protests have been relatively rare. Anti-fracking campaigners jailed in 2018 for this offence were the first to face imprisonment since 1932. A new statutory offence would result in a maximum sentence if tried in a Magistrates Court of 12 months in prison and a fine (or both) and for more serious cases tried in a Crown Court, of up to 10 years in prison.

    Any kind of dissent can be deemed a “serious annoyance”, so all protesters will, in future, risk being imprisoned.

    The next sitting in the House of Lords for the Police Bill is on 20 October. The bill has seen massive protests all over the country so far. It’s important that we keep fighting it right through to the bitter end.

    Featured image via screengrab

    By Eliza Egret

    This post was originally published on The Canary.

  • An officer stands in front of a displayed photograph showing counterfeit fentanyl pills during a press conference on May 13, 2021, in Los Angeles, California.

    The Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) issued a “public safety alert” this week warning people about a sharp increase in the availability of counterfeit prescription pills — a potentially toxic drug supply that experts say ballooned in the wake of policy failures and heavy-handed enforcement by the DEA.

    Citing a rapid increase in the number of counterfeit pills confiscated by drug police, the DEA warns of a “nationwide surge” in counterfeit pills containing black market opioids, stimulants and benzodiazepines that are made to look like popular prescription medications such as Percocet, Adderall and Xanax. Counterfeit pills are contributing to the overdose crisis, the agency said, which reached terrifying new heights during the pandemic lockdowns last year.

    The increased demand for prescription pills in the illicit market comes amid a nationwide crackdown on the prescribing of controlled substances that followed sensational coverage of the overdose crisis, which the media often links to aggressive marketing of opioid painkillers in the late 1990s and early 2000s. However, experts and advocates for medicine access say the link between painkiller “overprescribing” and the overdose crisis is overblown and ignores a complex web of socio-economic factors, especially now that opioid prescribing has plummeted to the lowest levels in a decade.

    The prescribing crackdown has made it more difficult for patients suffering from chronic pain, anxiety, and other conditions to access medicine, according to Claudia Merandi, an advocate for pain patients and founder of The Doctor Patient Forum. In an interview, Merandi said she receives requests for help from 300 to 400 patients every week who suffer acute or chronic pain but are unable to access painkillers. Others are forced to take lower doses of medicine they have depended on for years or taper off altogether.

    “People have taken their lives because they have been cutoff of medication that gave them a quality of life,” Merandi said. “People have lost their livelihoods — they just stopped living and retreated to their beds.”

    Experts say women, low-income people and people in rural areas are disproportionately affected by the prescribing crackdown. The same goes for people of color and Black people especially, who are more likely have their pain dismissed by doctors or be profiled as a drug addict or dealer due to stigma and racism.

    Despite the crackdown, the number of overdoses involving prescription opioids continued to increase until 2017, although researchers now say the Centers for Disease Control “misled” the nation for years with faulty data that grossly exaggerated the number deaths involving prescription painkillers. Now, the CDC reports that skyrocketing rates of fatal overdose are driven by drugs laced with synthetic opioids such as fentanyl and stimulants such as methamphetamine, the same drugs pressed into counterfeit pills that have replaced what experts call a “safer supply” of prescription medications.

    Prescription pills are considered safer to use than counterfeit pills even if a user does not obtain them legally from a doctor. Counterfeit pills contain drugs produced in foreign black market labs and can vary widely in quality and potency. For example, a counterfeit pill made to look like a 10-milligram Percocet, a common opioid painkiller, could potentially be much more powerful, putting a user at increased risk of overdose.

    Ryan McNeil, the director of harm reduction research at the Yale School of Medicine, said counterfeit pills have been around for years. Demand for prescription pills remains high despite the decrease in prescribing, particularly of opioids for pain and benzodiazepines such as Xanax often used to treat anxiety. Counterfeit pills are increasingly filling the gap. Experienced drug users can often tell the difference between a counterfeit and pharmaceutical pill, but a naïve user or patient who recently lost a prescription may not, making them vulnerable to side effects and even overdose.

    “We know that people who were cut off from pain medications turned the illicit market to gain access to medication, that is basically an inarguable point at this stage of the overdose crisis,” McNeil said in an interview. “Currently, these counterfeit pills are meeting that gap, as well just generally a demand for psychoactive substances that has been around as long as humans have existed.”

    Opioid prescribing rates slowed over the past decade and dropped dramatically during the Trump administration, which capped painkiller production quotas and attempted to reduce prescribing by more than 30 percent. In 2016, the CDC released restrictive prescribing guidelines that have divided medical experts and were widely misapplied by doctors and state policymakers. The guidelines also enraged pain patients, who are clamoring to have them rewritten or removed.

    Meanwhile, DEA agents scrutinized prescription drug monitoring databases set up by most states in response to the overdose crisis that track patients, doctors and prescriptions in order to raid and shut down medical clinics and pharmacies accused of overprescribing.

    “We can confirm that law enforcement, the DEA and insurance companies all have access to patient information that they use to target to the highest prescribers,” Merandi said, arguing that drug police should not be able to access to sensitive patient data without a court order. “That’s new, we didn’t know that was happening a few years ago.”

    While some problematic prescribers were targeted, advocates say respected physicians and community pharmacies are also caught up in the enforcement dragnet, and untold numbers of patients lost access to medications and health care in the process. Some doctors became increasingly wary of prescribing opioids and other controlled substances. Other avoided accepting new patients with longstanding prescriptions. In some cases, patients suffered fatal overdoses of illicit drugs and others committed suicide.

    In a previous statement, the DEA said it does not “interfere with or advise on the practice of medicine,” and providers who follow the law and practice within the “normal course of medicine” are not subject to enforcement.

    Private companies have also combined the prescription monitoring data with personal health records to build algorithmic programs that are supposed to help doctors identify potential problem patients, but some patients say they have been unfairly singled out and denied medication due to errors. People with disabilities and chronic pain who struggle to access medication have found each other online and formed a growing movement that often spars with pundits and policymakers pushing to limit opioid prescribing.

    The DEA’s counterfeit pill alert assures the public that medications obtained from licensed pharmacies are “safe when taken as directed by a medical professional.” Merandi, who helped pass legislation in Rhode Island aimed at making it harder for the DEA to shut down prescribers based on CDC’s highly controversial prescribing guidelines, said such a statement is ironic coming from an agency that prevents doctors from prescribing to patients in the first place.

    “I work with doctors who are still prescribing, and I do my best to be sure the doctors are prescribing safely, and I do my best to protect the doctors from the feds,” Merandi said.

    The DEA says it has seized 9.5 million counterfeit pills so far this year, more than the past two years combined. McNeil said that’s likely only a drop in the bucket; law enforcement has never put a meaningful dent in the drug supply and prohibition has never quelled demand during the past five decades of continuous drug war.

    A main goal of the prescribing crackdown is to prevent the “diversion” of prescription pills to people who are not prescribed them. In theory, preventing diversion also prevents people from misusing drugs and eventually overdosing. Yet rates of fatal drug overdose remain stubbornly high.

    McNeil said diversion would become a moot point if policymakers changed laws to allow people access to a “safe supply” of pharmaceutical grade opioids in a compassionate setting.

    “A consequence of the crackdown on heroin and pills is that we now have a toxic drug market made up of adulterated drugs,” McNeil said. “Fears about diversion undermine our ability to intervene in the drug supply and provide safer alternatives.”

    For patients suffering from chronic pain, anxiety or ADHD, a safe supply typically means the ability to obtain medicine they depend on from a doctor and pharmacy rather than being turned away, stigmatized for treating their condition with controlled substances, or forced to taper off in order to receive care.

    For drug users living with addiction and marginalized by the harsh impacts of drug prohibition, a safe supply could mean access to their drug of choice and a safe place to use it. For example, medical grade heroin is available by prescription in other countries and credited with stabilizing patients and preventing overdose deaths. In the U.S., policymakers are slowly embracing safe consumption sites where people can use illicit drugs under medical supervision and access addiction treatment services, a model proven to prevent overdose deaths.

    Researchers are already discussing models for legalizing non-medical opioids that would include robust public education and training for those who wish to use them. After all, current policy has failed to end the overdose crisis or the illicit drug trade fueling the availability of counterfeit pills. But don’t expect to hear that from the DEA, which would face an existential crisis if the “war on drugs” finally came to an end.

    “With its counterfeit pill warning, DEA is almost making an argument for a safe supply here by pointing out how dangerous the illicit market is,” McNeil said.

    This post was originally published on Latest – Truthout.

  • On 30 September, the Investigatory Powers Tribunal (IPT) ruled in favour of one of the women deceived into a relationship by a spycop. The undercover policing inquiry found that police abused Kate Wilson’s human rights, drawing her ten-year legal battle to a close. The landmark judgement sets out a “‘formidable list” of human rights breaches from the Metropolitan Police. It concludes that the undercover policing operations against protestors were unlawful and sexist.

    Institutional sexism

    In 2003, environmental activist Wilson began a relationship with Mark Kennedy. She later found out that Kennedy was an undercover Metropolitan Police officer who had infiltrated a number of environmental groups. The tribunal considered evidence about Kennedy’s relationships with Wilson and a number of other women. The ruling found that the police violated Wilson’s fundamental human right to live free from inhumane and degrading treatment and her right to private and family life. It concluded that such deceptive relationships – which primarily impacted women – count as sexist discrimination. 

    The ruling highlighted that the force failed to put any structures in place to safeguard or protect the targets of undercover policing operations from officers seeking sexual relationships.

    The tribunal also considered evidence about the knowledge a number of senior Met Police officers had of Kennedy’s relationships with Wilson and other women. It concluded that the National Public Order Policing Unit (NPOPU) adopted a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy regarding officers initiating sexual relationships while undercover, with little regard for the impact on women’s lives.

    Other human rights violations

    The tribunal also considered whether the use of secret policing against protestors was “necessary in a democratic society” as set out by the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR). Five other officers spied on Wilson: Jim Boyling, Jason Bishop, Rod Richardson, Lynne Watson, and Marco Jacobs. The tribunal also found that police violated Wilson’s right to hold opinions and her rights to freedom of expression and association. It added that the force failed to put structures in place that would protect the private lives of Wilson and other targets of undercover policing operations, calling Kennedy’s poorly defined operation a “fishing expedition”.

    Regarding the right to hold opinions and exchange information and ideas, the tribunal found that this “must, in our view, include the right to do so without attracting the attention of the police and being monitored and placed under surveillance”. Contrary to this right, the ruling concluded that undercover police targeted Wilson because of her political views.

    A long list of failings

    The ruling also indicted the Metropolitan Police’s conduct during the case. It stated that the force provided “unsatisfactory” and at times incomprehensible evidence. And it added that without Wilson’s “tenacity and perseverance” over the course of her ten-year legal battle against the police, “much of what this case has revealed would not have come to light”.

    The judgement concludes:

    This is a formidable list of Convention violations, the severity of which is underscored in particular by the violations of Arts 3 and 14. This is not just a case about a renegade police officer who took advantage of his undercover deployment to indulge his sexual proclivities, serious though this aspect of the case unquestionably is.

    It added:

    Our findings that the authorisations under RIPA were fatally flawed and the undercover operation could not be justified as “necessary in a democratic society”, as required by the ECHR, reveal disturbing and lamentable failings at the most fundamental levels.

    Time for institutional change

    Welcoming the ruling after her decade long legal battle, Wilson said:

    The events in my case happened years ago, however the failure of the police to protect women from sexual predators within their own ranks, and police attempts to criminalise protestors are both still very live issues today.

    She concluded:

    We need to tackle the misogyny and institutional sexism of the police and there needs to be a fundamental rethink of the powers they are given for the policing of demonstrations and the surveillance of those who take part.

    Director of the Centre for Women’s Justice Harriet Wistrich, who was a witness and Wilson’s lawyer in the early stages of the case, said:

    This excoriating judgement could not have come at a more significant moment when we hear the details of the horrendous murder of Sarah Everard by a serving Met police officer who used deceit with the opportunities of his job to entrap her. What is it going to take to transform the culture of policing so that resources are used to protect women from abuse from violence, not to abuse them?

    Wilson’s case and the tribunal’s landmark ruling have provided unprecedented insight into undercover policing operations. The spycops inquiry is ongoing.

    Featured image via Cops Campaign/YouTube

    By Sophia Purdy-Moore

    This post was originally published on The Canary.

  • Content warning: the article below contains material some readers may find distressing

    On 30 September, Lord Justice Fulford handed down a whole life sentence to Wayne Couzens for the “devastating, tragic and wholly brutal” murder of Sarah Everard. Couzens was a serving Metropolitan Police officer when he kidnapped, raped and murdered Everard. He remained an officer after police arrested him in March. The force eventually sacked him in July, over a month after Couzens pleaded guilty to the kidnapping and rape of Everard, and a week after he pleaded guilty to her murder. Although the Met Police has attempted to distance itself from Couzens’ actions, campaigners have been quick to highlight that the institution is wholly complicit in Everard’s murder.

    Another death in police custody

    On 29 September, Couzens appeared at the Old Bailey for his sentencing in the kidnap, rape and murder of Everard. The court heard that Couzens – who was a serving Met Police officer at the time – handcuffed and falsely arrested Everard on 3 March in Clapham. Couzens showed Everard his warrant card before restraining her. Someone witnessed the off-duty officer handcuffing Everard and leading her to his car. They assumed that the young woman “must have done something wrong”. After kidnapping her, Couzens raped and murdered Everard, and left her body in the countryside.

    Reflecting on the devastating details of Everard’s murder, Roxy Legane tweeted:

    Jason Okundaye shared:

    In court, it emerged that Couzens may have may have used coronavirus (Covid-19) lockdown regulations to stop Everard, who was on her way home. Underlining the injustices of the unprecedented restrictions and new police powers that the government introduced in the wake of the pandemic, Moya Lothian-McLean tweeted:

    Sarah Everard’s horrifying death drew widespread attention. But people from Black and other racially minoritised groups are overrepresented in the number of deaths following police contact. Urging people to critically assess officers’ conduct on the streets, Kojo Coram shared:

    Not just ‘one bad apple’

    Scotland Yard issued a statement ahead of Couzens’ sentencing, saying

    Georgia Lewis responded:

    Pre-empting the force’s attempts to distance itself from Couzens’ heinous crimes, feminist direct action group Sisters Uncut tweeted:

    Otegha Uwagba also shared:

    Sharing this sentiment, Black Lives Matter UK shared:

    Underlining the toxic culture and lack of accountability inherent in the country’s police forces, Nottingham East MP Nadia Whittome shared:

    Feminist campaign group Level Up added:

    Calling for institutional accountability, senior researcher at the Center for Countering Digital Hate Sophie Wilkinson tweeted:

    No more police powers

    Highlighting the devastating impact of the government’s ‘law and order’ response to Everard’s murder, one Twitter user shared:

    Expanded police powers will hit people from already overpoliced and underprotected communities hardest – working class communities, communities of colour, disabled people, queer folks, and people from marginalised genders. Urging people to resist the inevitable expansion of police powers in response to Everard’s case, Ilyas Nagdee tweeted:

    Shahed Ezaydi explains carceral feminism as “feminism that pushes for increased policing, surveillance, and harsher laws and policies when dealing with gendered violence”. This is based on the flawed assumption that these systems and institutions are fundamentally just, supportive and benevolent to all victims and survivors. Seeking abolitionist alternatives to carceral feminist solutions to gendered violence, Sisters Uncut has launched a Copwatch Police Intervention project:

    Anyone looking to get involved in the Sisters Uncut’s new programme can sign up via the organisation’s online form. The horrifying details of Couzens’ conduct, and the lack of institutional accountability regarding the case show us just how vital it is that we maintain momentum in resisting the state’s increasingly authoritarian agenda.

    Featured image via Ehimetalor Akhere Unuabona/Unsplash

    By Sophia Purdy-Moore

    This post was originally published on The Canary.

  • Content warning: the video below contains footage some readers may find distressing

    On 20 September, footage emerged of Metropolitan Police officers allegedly brutalising 13-year-old Benjamin Olajive during a stop and search in Streatham, south London. This is the latest in a number of incidents in September which have intensified calls from campaigners to scrap the practice, which police continue to use disproportionately and excessively against Black people.

    Nothing but an afro comb

    On 20 September, a mob of Metropolitan Police officers stopped 13-year-old Olajive while searching for a Black person carrying a knife. Olajive, who has ADHD and PTSD, was wearing his school uniform at the time. In distressing footage, he can be heard crying out: “my hands, my hands” as officers forcefully handcuff him. Members of the local community soon rushed to support Olajive, and demand that officers answer for their actions.

    Sharing some footage of the incident, one person tweeted:

    After a 45 minute search, the ‘offensive’ item officers found turned out to be an afro comb. Criminal defence lawyer Aamer Anwar shared:

    Questioning officers’ decision to take the boy to the police station having found nothing but an afro comb, barrister Michael Etienne shared:

    Olajive’s mother Zeyna Kada has accused the Metropolitan Police of using excessive force against her son. She states that officers “manhandled”, “strangled” and “scratched” him, and failed to take his ADHD and PTSD into account. Photos allegedly show blood on the sleeves of Olajive’s school shirt from where officers handcuffed the boy.

    Another photo shows the 13-year-old with a swollen eye following the incident. Kada maintains that her son is traumatised as a result of his distressing encounter with police. According to the Metropolitan Police, the complaint regarding the incident is under investigation.

    Outrage

    Expressing her dismay at the incident, Streatham MP Bell Ribeiro-Addy shared:

    Highlighting the historic criminalisation of afro combs in Britain, Black and Asian Lawyers for Justice shared:

    Calling on the Met to provide Olajive with compensation and mental health support following the traumatic ordeal, children and young people’s mental health lead at the Centre for Mental Health Kadra Abdinasir said:

    Time to scrap stop and search

    The incident came just two weeks after footage emerged of a school-based police officer assaulting an autistic 10-year-old pupil. And on 13 September, a Metropolitan Police officer injured a 70-year-old Black man during a stop and search in Bromley, south east London.

    Meanwhile, an Independent Office for Police Conduct (IOPC) report published in September found that police racially profiled school support worker Dwayne Francis in a stop and search. These incidents reflect the reality that police continue to use stop and search powers disproportionately against Black people, with most searches not leading to an arrest.

    Highlighting the police’s excessive and disproportionate use of stop and search powers against Black people, Black Lives Matter UK shared:

    Explaining the harmful impact that state violence has on Black children, psychologist Guilaine Kinouani said:

    Calling for an end to harmful stop and search practices once and for all, Manchester-based campaigner Deej Malik-Johnson tweeted:

    Citing the incident as further evidence of the harm that investing the police with more powers could cause (as set out in the government’s proposed draconian Police, Crime and Sentencing Bill) John O’Connell said:

    Decades of evidence point to the fact that stop and search practices don’t work to curb crime, and only serve to control and traumatise marginalised people and communities. It’s time to scrap the harmful practice once and for all.

    Featured image via Metro – Screengrab

    By Sophia Purdy-Moore

    This post was originally published on The Canary.

  • Volunteers help victims of flooding from Hurricane Ida in the Flushing neighborhood in Queens, New York.

    When the remnants of Hurricane Ida arrived in the Bronx, I messaged all my group chats. Was everyone safe? Exhausted from everything that is already happening to our BIPOC communities, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop worrying. I panicked as friends sent videos of their flooding basement. One person’s Instagram showed people in a flooded bus lifting their feet. The videos of strangers’ apartments and water raging into train stops still haunts me. I finally broke when I got a text in a community organizing chat that someone in a wheelchair was stuck in their flooded apartment and needed to get out. We didn’t know their immediate needs, or if they were safe. They got themselves out, alone, and unfortunately had to stay in an inaccessible hotel for the night. However, what we knew from the beginning was that they were calling on the community, not 911, because they did not feel safe.

    This is a part of environmental injustice that many still don’t understand. We are taught in this racist, queerphobic, transphobic, ableist society to rely on racist, queerphobic, transphobic, ableist systems that exterminate us. Everyone says call 911, but why should we when, especially as people of color, we call 911 and could be killed? This person had to choose between risking their life in more ways than cisgender, heterosexual, able-bodied white people could ever consider.

    I tried not to cry, thinking about how this individual is just one of many who were and remain in worse situations, especially for unhoused community members, who for the sake of survival cannot put their lives, especially lives of color, in the hands of police. It is this distrust in a time crisis is exactly why we must reallocate funds from violent structures like police and into safer ones like housing, food security and the environment. Scientists predicted more extreme weather, and Ida was proof of it.

    Funding the police, whom I never see wearing masks on the Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA) during this pandemic despite all the signs on transit, was clearly a mistake. When the chance presented itself in 2019, the MTA increased police presence and it cost our community over $260 million. That money could have kept people safe through environmentally conscious steps such as improving ventilation on train cars, pollution reduction measures or improving water pumping systems. After Ida passed over, so many trains were down that it seemed almost impossible to get to work. As a dancer who has to train almost daily, I had to forego class, which reduces my chance at finding work.

    Last year, New York Mayor Bill de Blasio announced a budget cut of $1 billion from the police. This came alongside an increase in police funding in New York public schools. That money could have improved drainage systems, brought more renewable energy resources or could have been invested in housing to keep people safe, especially during COVID. Instead, we are counting deaths that this city could have prevented. We grieve for the people and families drowned in basement apartments, who could still be alive today in environmentally conscious and equitable housing.

    Throughout the Bronx, Brooklyn and Queens, community organizers immediately took to the streets to provide care and mutual aid. We are already donating clothes, food and cleaning debris. We are keeping us safe. We already have strategies for community safety and de-escalation that do not involve the police — not just during this crisis, but in our direct actions as well. Immediately, folks on the ground organized clothing drives, helped individuals gain flood assistance from the government, and more. We have yet to see police assist in post-Ida destruction, trauma or loss of life. Our tax dollars should be providing this relief, not our personal finances when we are already slammed by the pandemic and barely have the funds to remain housed.

    Whoever becomes the next mayor of this city will inherit a legacy of climate catastrophe, government failures and so much suffering for no reason other than that money was poorly invested in unsustainable sectors. I hope they make the right decisions. I have nothing but doubts.

    I think of the Senate that only last month voted almost unanimously to expand police nationwide by 100,000 and to deny federal funding to any municipality that defunded police. I invite all of them to move into a basement apartment in Queens without their paychecks. The people need that money for greener and more equitable solutions. Policing is not one of them.

    The United States government on every level has failed our communities by investing tax dollars into police instead of holistic community safety that is environmentally conscious. Now, we the people are paying the price for it. Capitalism, in so many ways, is destroying capitalist structures by not investing in our safety.

    As a nation, we stand at a crossroads. It is clearer than ever that the colonial state is collapsing. So, do we remain faithful to an ailing government that claws at systems of capital and control, or band together and care for our communities, in providing sustainable and safe housing, renewable energy, food security, so that we can salvage what is left of a further dimming future?

    This post was originally published on Latest – Truthout.

  • New research published by the Institute of Race Relations (IRR) suggests that policing during the coronavirus (Covid-19) pandemic disproportionately targets People of Colour and undermines public safety.

    Disproportionate and discriminatory policing

    The government expanded police powers to allow for “unprecedented restrictions on social gatherings” in the wake of the coronavirus pandemic in 2020.’ The report, titled A threat to public safety: policing, racism and the Covid-19 pandemic, was authored by academics from the University of Manchester’s Centre on the Dynamics of Ethnicity (CoDE). It argues that lockdown conditions, new police powers, and histories of institutionally racist policing have combined to threaten marginalised and vulnerable communities that already experience over-policing.

    Moreover, it highlights that although England saw a drop in crime rates during the first lockdown, stop and search rates more than doubled in May 2020 compared to the year before. Also, between April and June 2020, the use of force increased by 12.5%. And police disproportionately used force against Black people.

    The report draws on conversations with People of Colour living in England. Accounts reveal disproportionate and discriminatory policing over the course of the pandemic. Reflecting on the expansion of police powers and discriminatory policing during the pandemic, one respondent shared:

    It’s almost giving like a golden ticket to kind of go out there in Black communities and just ridicule us. You know? To me, there’s like something that triggers the police with Black people […] they manhandle us, they verbally attack us, they treat us like animals

    The report’s lead author Dr Scarlet Harris said:

    The findings dismantle the myth that the police contribute to public safety. Instead, they demonstrate how policing such a ‘crisis’ has reproduced profound harms for those from racially minoritised groups and communities.

    Undermining public health

    Participants sharing their experiences of policing during the pandemic highlighted instances of police failing to use personal protective equipment (PPE) or observe social distancing regulations. One woman who was heavily pregnant during an encounter with police told researchers that officers refused to wear masks when she asked them to.

    The report comes in the wake of widespread protests against institutionally racist policing and proposals set out in the government’s draconian Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts bill. Reflecting on the policing of the 2020 Black Lives Matter protests and 2021 Kill the Bill protests, another respondent said:

    it’s just completely illogical that for them, a public health response involves sending like 40 to 100 police officers into an area, kettling people, using PAVA spray and then putting loads of people in police stations and in custody where obviously the risk of transmission is going to be higher…So, it’s just so obvious to us, this has got nothing to do with public health. This is just about the police being able to shut down protests.

    The report argues that such practices “completely undermine the public health approach to the pandemic”. During encounters with the public, the police significantly increased the risk of coronavirus transmission.

    Threatening public safety for People of Colour

    Dr Remi Joseph-Salisbury, one of the report’s authors, said: 

    The evidence in this report really urges us to question the State’s reliance on the police to solve social and public health problems. Despite being central to the government’s handling of the pandemic, policing too often threatens rather than protects public safety, particularly for people of colour.

    IRR director Liz Fekete added:

    This research gives a voice to those who have had uncivil, discriminatory or brutal encounters with the police and points to the dangers that the public health model poses for “policing by consent”. The evidence of the over-policed reveals that those who argue that mistrust of the police is based on hearsay, myth-making and a victim mentality, are hopelessly out of touch.

    The report’s authors conclude by expressing concern that the draconian measures ushered in at the beginning of the pandemic will remain in place, giving rise to “longer-standing forms of State control”. This is exemplified by the proposed draconian Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts bill. The bill would further expand police powers and threaten citizens’ civil liberties. The authors argue that our hope for dealing with present and future crises lies in alternative approaches which do not centre policing.

    Featured image via Ehimetalor Akhere Unuabona/Unsplash 

    By Sophia Purdy-Moore

    This post was originally published on The Canary.

  • Content warning: the video below contains footage some readers may find distressing

    On 7 September, Channel 4 News shared distressing footage of a school-based police officer assaulting an autistic 10-year-old pupil. Merseyside Police has introduced further training for its officers based in schools. But campaigners argue that more training is not the answer, and that police in schools will always be a harmful problem rather than a solution.

    No police in schools

    Distressing CCTV footage shows Merseyside Police school-based officer PC Christopher Cruise threatening to kick an autistic 10-year-old boy who is lying on the ground. The officer proceeds to drag the boy across the floor and fling him through a door. Channel 4 News shared:

    School-based police officers carry out policing and surveillance on school grounds. We have seen an increasing presence of police in UK schools in recent years. Campaigners have raised concerns that the presence of police and state violence in educational settings will disproportionately impact children with special educational needs and disabilities, and working-class pupils from Black and ethnic minority backgrounds.

    Responding to the footage, campaign group Kids of Colour tweeted:

    The Northern Police Monitoring Project added:

    In July, No Police in Schools campaigners celebrated the success of their campaign calling on the Greater Manchester Combined Authority (GMCA) to halt plans to place more police officers in local schools and to remove existing school-based officers. In response to the campaign, Manchester city council motioned to remove and re-deploy all existing officers in local schools. However, council leaders reiterated their commitment to stationing 20 more officers in Manchester schools. As demonstrated by Cruise’s abhorrent behaviour, the fight to protect children and young people from overpolicing is far from over.

    Expressing her dismay, one Twitter user shared:

    Dolores Lee added:

    The UK is not innocent

    Speaking out about the very real issue of police in UK schools, Kids of Colour founder Roxy Legane tweeted:

    Indicating what the UK’s education system could look like if we continue to see an increasing police presence in schools, US-based youth-led Alliance for Educational Justice shared:

    More training isn’t the answer

    Cruise has been fined and convicted of assault. According to Merseyside Police, it has provided their school-based officers with further training following the incident. But campaigners are arguing that training is not enough, and that the footage demonstrates exactly why police should never be stationed in schools.

    One Twitter user said:

    The Network for Police Monitoring added:

    National Education Union Manchester president and No Police in Schools campaigner Vik Chechi-Ribeiro shared:

    The campaign continues

    Reflecting on the struggles and triumphs of the ongoing campaign to remove police from UK schools and introduce measures that support young people, Kids of Colour’s Roxy Legane shared:

    The distressing footage reflects what No Police in Schools campaigners have been arguing: that policing is never a solution, especially when it comes to marginalised and vulnerable children and young people. As campaigners have highlighted, “young people need support, not suspicion”. This means investment in youth workers, counsellors, teachers, and other services which support pupils rather than policing which traumatises them. People looking to take action can get involved in the campaign via No Police in Schools’ website.

    Featured image via Channel 4 News/Twitter

    By Sophia Purdy-Moore

    This post was originally published on The Canary.

  • The child welfare system is a powerful state policing apparatus that functions to regulate poor and working-class families.

    This post was originally published on Dissent MagazineDissent Magazine.

  • The challenging lesson from our history is that a deep well of strength and resilience are required for the long struggle to make equity and equality under the law a reality in the United States.

    This post was originally published on Real Progressives.

  • Even as their budgets have climbed upward, police departments have deprived sexual assault units of proportional funding for decades. Today, advocates in Texas are trying to transform the state’s approach to sexual violence.

    This post was originally published on Dissent MagazineDissent Magazine.

  • This article was funded by the Marvel Cooke Fellowship. Read more about this reporting project and make a contribution to fund our fellowship budget.

    TS Candii was living in a homeless shelter in the Bronx when she first encountered the New York City Police Department. Candii had stepped outside to smoke a cigarette when police officers approached her to become an informant. 

    When she refused, they threatened to arrest her on sex work-related charges unless she performed oral sex on both officers. 

    “I hate to say it like this but [afterward] I was excited that I could cross the street without being entrapped or arrested,” Candii said to New York City Council members, recalling how she felt after the rape. 

    That was a decade ago, when Candii first moved to New York City as a Black transgender woman seeking to restart her life in a so-called liberal city. These days, the New York City Police Department (NYPD) uses cutting-edge technology to surveil homeless people. This includes a dystopian network of surveillance cameras and other data collection efforts to track individuals living on the streets and target them for social service outreach and policing.

    This year, for the first time in history, the NYPD publicly disclosed its surveillance tools after the passage of the Public Oversight of Surveillance Technology (POST) Act. The law requires the NYPD to release reports on how these tools are used and allows the public 45 days to provide input that the department must consider when finalizing its policies.   

    Proponents of the POST Act argue these laws are a first step to limiting police powers. For example, they believe such laws allow advocates to understand how the city targets homeless New Yorkers. The city claims the Street Homelessness Joint Command Center allows the NYPD to track individuals living on the streets and target them for social service outreach and policing in order to ‘end homelessness.’ 

    Critics, meanwhile, question whether laws like the POST Act are simply another police reform that fails to limit police power and instead legitimizes violent surveillance practices against Black and brown communities. They argue that transparency does nothing to change these tactics, which houseless activists and outreach workers deem ineffective and cruel because police enforcement with homeless individuals often results in confiscation of their belongings, tickets, and/or arrests.

    This debate has national relevance. Cities like Seattle, Denver, Oakland, and San Francisco have increased public oversight of police surveillance. While the POST Act is weaker than other oversight laws, it follows a growing trend across cities and, in this case, impacts the nation’s largest police force.

    The POST Act passed after three years of advocacy led by a group of legal organizations including the Surveillance Technology Oversight Project (STOP), which fights to end discriminatory surveillance in New York. 

    For Albert Fox Cahn, the Executive Director of STOP, the law offers a basis for further litigation that could require the NYPD to divulge more information. 

    “The POST act was an important first step because you can’t outlaw what you can’t see and, without transparency about what systems the NYPD is using, it’s impossible to outlaw those systems,” Cahn said. 

    The Pitfalls of Transparency

    The NYPD released 36 reports outlining its use of different surveillance tools. The reports use boilerplate language, including blatantly false claims such as denying the racist applications of spy tools despite widespread documentation. 

    The reports revealed the use of tools that enable police to broadly identify the general vicinity of a WiFi-enabled device, investigate cryptocurrency transactions, and the extent to which officers use fake social media accounts to carry out investigations and arrests. 

    “When you’re not from the community, it’s easy to see this minimalist action as a win,” said Mutali Nkonde, leader of AI For The People, an organization advancing racial justice in the technology field. 

    Nkonde supported the POST Act in 2019 but changed her opinion after the 2020 uprisings demonstrated the need to ban police technology instead of asking for transparency.  “The police can come in and kill me in my own bed at any point,” she said, reflecting on how police killed Breonna Taylor. “Laws like the POST Act are not designed to address that.” 

    At the same time, such reforms can cause harm by legitimizing the police as an institution. 

    “You have this narrative that police keep us safe while police have been a threat to the public safety of Black, Latinx, and low-income communities this whole time,” said Keli Young, Civil Rights Campaign Coordinator at Voices Of Community Activists & Leaders (VOCAL), a grassroots membership organization in New York organizing to end mass incarceration. 

    In the past, organizers and advocates sought transparency around police spy tools through lengthy lawsuits and tireless public records requests. 

    “Legislating regulation or oversight are reforms that fail shrink the power of the police—they seek to fix the police use of these tools rather than completely abolishing it,” said Myaisha Hayes, director at MediaJustice which leads the fight for racial, gender, and economic equity in the digital age.  

    The POST Act passed at the height of racial justice protests, during which the NYPD violently attacked protestors on camera. Local news outlets hailed it as an “effort to overhaul the police force” despite how weak it is compared to laws in other cities giving local governments more oversight of police.  

    In contrast, New York City’s charter limits the city council’s ability to oversee police.  

    “The POST Act is not a transformative law and none of us who worked on it are fooled by that,” said Rashida Richardson, a visiting scholar at Rutgers who helped draft the law. “But we’re also realistic about the political reality we live in: we didn’t have a city government willing to do this pre-uprisings.” 

    In contrast, the Stop LAPD Spying Coalition, which builds community power towards the abolition of the police state, argues the POST Act failed to meet the moment. 

    “The slogans were ‘defund the police’ and ‘fuck the police’ not ‘reform the police,’” said Shakeer Rahman, an organizer with the coalition.

    Young saw the consequences of this dissonance play out in New York City, remarking, “I don’t think anyone is surprised when politicians and lawmakers come out and say, ‘this is reform, you all got what you asked for’ but it actually makes us less safe.” 

    “That was a year ago and in the past year we’ve seen police continue to kill Black and Latinx people at alarming rates.” 

    Since then, only five officers will face penalties for attacking protestors during the 2020 uprising. The NYPD will determine those penalties, capturing the futility of police reforms. 

    Efforts to defund the NYPD last year were thwarted by cosmetic changes to the city budget that did not result in any meaningful reduction of the department’s $11 billion war chest. This year, the city increased the NYPD budget by $200 million. 

    This includes $47 million for expanding surveillance tools and ensuring more officers have tablets with access to what the NYPD describes as “one of the world’s largest networks of cameras, license plate readers, and radiological censors.” 

    From Raising Awareness to Building Power 

    TS Candii has continued to see other Black trans women bear the brunt of police enforcement and surveillance as they navigate the criminal legal system. 

    Candii is now the founder of Black Trans Nation, a non-profit organization led by and for Black trans sex workers. The group played a central role in repealing the same statute that officers used to threaten Candii with arrest. 

    The loitering for the purpose of prostitution statute was passed in 1976 at the behest of the NYPD and has been used to criminalize and surveil Black and Latinx trans women walking down the street in low-income neighborhoods.

    “The community doesn’t even know what the POST Act entails,” Candii said, “how many lives has that law saved?” 

    She compared the situation to the repeal of the loitering statute earlier this year, which led the city’s district attorneys to vacate thousands of convictions and clear arrest histories. People could now seek opportunities they were previously disqualified from due to their criminal record. 

    These differences capture how high-level advocacy organizations such as STOP often measure success in terms of media attention or policy changes whereas some grassroots organizations measure impact by building people power to create material differences in the lives of community members.

    While STOP was awarded a prestigious grant shortly after their legislative victory, Candii’s experience has been vastly different. Critics describe these trends as part of a long history of funders investing in liberal reforms instead of more radical demands thus altering the direction of social movements.

    “White people pass a law, they get money,” she said. “Black trans women pass a law and we don’t even get nothing other than press. It’s ridiculous.”

    The post Abolishing Police Surveillance In NYC: Will Transparency Help Or Make It Harder? appeared first on Shadowproof.

    This post was originally published on Shadowproof.

  • Greater Manchester Police (GMP) has published its report on “racial equality”. It highlights significant race disparities in the force’s policing – from stop and search to the use of force. However, the report fails to acknowledge the existence of institutional racism in the force. Instead, it suggests that over-policed communities are responsible for persistent race disparities in the force’s policing. Much like the government’s controversial race disparities report, this is yet another case of racist institutions gaslighting Black communities.

    Significant race disparities

    GMP’s Achieving Racial Equality report cites data from April 2020 to March 2021. It sets out that during this period, Black people were over five times more likely to stop and searched than their white counterparts. They were four times more likely to have force used against them by police officers. And Black people were nearly six times more likely to have a Taser used against them. It adds that officers were “more likely to refer to the physique of Black people when recording the use of force impact factors”.

    Greater Manchester Race Equality panel chair Elizabeth Cameron told the Guardian that this suggests that officers are falling back on “racist tropes” to explain their excessive and disproportionate use of force against Black people. Manchester police were also more than twice as likely to arrest Black people.

    In spite of the overwhelming evidence pointing to institutional racism in the force, the report’s authors fail to acknowledge it. Indeed, the 50-page report refers to the word “racism” once. The Northern Police Monitoring Project (NPMP) highlights that the report refers to the word “in a broad, generic reference to the Black Lives Matter Movement, detached from discussions of policing”.

    The report goes on to cautiously suggest that the “biases” of individual officers “may” have an impact on their use of force. This frames racial disproportionality in the force’s policing as a case of a few bad apples. Such framing fails to reflect the reality that the entire force is institutionally racist.

    Achieving racial equality?

    Rather than acknowledging the reality of institutional racism, the report suggests that over-policed communities are to blame for persistent race disparities. It argues that racial disproportionality in GMP’s policing is partly driven by “the concentration of crime and policing in the City of Manchester, where a majority of Black residents of GMP live”. It goes on to argue that Communities of Colour “are more youthful than the White population”. These statements speak volumes of the way in which GMP regards young, Black, and working class communities.

    This could serve as further evidence of problems with the force’s outlook and methods, and may go some way in explaining why the force polices certain communities so heavily. Further, as NPMP highlights, crime statistics are subjective. It’s ultimately up to the police and justice system to decide who to police and who to criminalise. Rather than asking interesting questions about why the force feels the need to focus its efforts on certain communities, the report simply reaches these conclusions to further justify the over-policing of under-protected communities, and to dismiss the real and harmful realities of institutionalised racism within the force.

    The report’s introduction sets out that “GMP is committed to reinforcing the legitimacy of its practices”. And GMP chief constable Stephen Watson told the Guardian: “I do not accept that GMP is institutionally racist, but I do accept that a lot of people think we are”. This suggests that the report is more focused on optics, rather than acknowledging racism within the force, or bringing about real and lasting changes to its disproportionate policing of certain communities.

    Gaslighting over-policed communities

    The report’s recommendations include commitments to recruiting more officers of colour, publishing data on the use of stop and search and force, and the establishment of a Diversity and Equality Board led by Watson. Highlighting these recommendations, NPMP said:

    the report’s recommendations focus less on substantive operational changes than reframing public perceptions of GMP as accountable, representative, and transparent.

    It adds:

    These are recommendations designed to address perceptions of racial disproportionality not ‘achieve racial equality’ as the report claims.

    Over-policed and under-protected communities don’t need a report to tell them that policing in Manchester is disproportionate. They need real commitments and solutions that tackle the issue of excessive and disproportionate policing head on. The force can’t claim to be trying to ‘achieve racial equality’ if it refuses to acknowledge the existence of institutional racism.

    Featured image via Sushil Nash/Unsplash

    By Sophia Purdy-Moore

    This post was originally published on The Canary.

  • Five short essays from Michael Walzer, Aviva Stahl, Elizabeth Glazer and Patrick Sharkey, Randall Kennedy, and Jasson Perez.

    This post was originally published on Dissent MagazineDissent Magazine.

  • Police in riot gear get in formation to abuse the citizenry

    “Hate” may be a real feeling, but it’s a distorting and inaccurate diagnosis for the never-ending violence routinely inflicted on Black, Latinx, Indigenous, Asian, trans, queer, disabled, Muslim, Jewish, Sikh, and other marginalized communities. To fully grasp the wrongheadedness of the diagnosis and its consequences, we must look at the political sleight of hand embedded in the hate frame.

    “Hate frame” here refers to a conceptual path intended to shape public understanding of an issue — in this case, the root cause of violence — and how society should respond to it. The hate frame identifies sources of violence in ahistorical ways, attributing violence to individuals or groups whose beliefs and actions are extreme and abhorrent to “respectable” society. This frame relies on carceral methods — policing, prosecution, punishment and surveillance — to respond to violence. When we attribute violence to “hate,” we are ignoring or minimizing the structural/systemic violence and inequality that produce unjust racial, class and gender hierarchies. The hate frame particularly ignores the fact that violence and inequality are foundational to the criminal legal system. Ironically, this helps to explain the hate frame’s popularity: It changes nothing in ways that might disrupt the social, economic and political status quo. In brief, the hate frame lets us off the hook: We don’t have to do anything but scream for more police, more training and resources for police.

    The flim-flam at the heart of the hate frame becomes evident when we take a closer look at its popularity and political utility. From 1981 to today, the implied promise that hate crime laws will interrupt and exact meaningful retribution for long histories of supremacist-inflicted harassment and vigilante violence has held sway. In that time, the federal government, nearly every state, the District of Columbia and two territories have enacted hate crime laws.

    Belief in that false promise is fueled by the pent-up fury, incalculable pain and cavernous senses of loss embedded in those histories. It is driven by good intentions and the sincere hope still held by so many that sufficient policing, prosecution and harsher penalties will somehow put a significant dent in that violence. And it is driven by the conviction that this will mitigate at least some of the grief by “sending a message” that society doesn’t accept it. Finally, as journalist Michelle Chen once critically described the emotional impetus for such laws, “Sometimes it just feels good to punish someone.”

    In the wake of sudden, lethal violence — the murders of six Asian women at massage parlors, or nine Black people in a church, or the recurring murders of transgender women of color — people who are frightened, angry, grieving and fed up with uninterrupted histories of violence just want somebody, dammit, to finally do something. They want this violence to stop. “Hate crime” is the only policy framework on serious offer from the politicians, foundations and philanthropies, and more than a few large nonprofit organizations who so uncritically promote it.

    When the only choice appears to be “this” or “nothing,” many people sign on, wanting to believe that the “experts” know best. But best for whom? Why? And how?

    These questions matter because hate crime laws, many on the books for decades, fail to produce anything close to what their supporters promise: more justice and less violence for Black, Indigenous, Latinx, Asian, trans and queer, disabled, and other vulnerable communities. But, as I once wrote, “It’s easier to blame violence on criminal misfits, loners, and crackpots than to challenge the unspoken public consensus that permits broader cultures and structures of violence to exist.” Accordingly, as sociologist Tamara Nopper, African American studies scholar Naomi Murakawa, and journalist Chalay Chalermkraivuth and abolitionist organizer Heena Sharma have recently pointed out, hate crime laws produce results that harm these same communities. And it’s getting worse.

    Why the Hate Frame Is Expanding

    Since 2015, there has been demonstrable, resurgent enthusiasm for new and strengthened hate crime laws and for expensive projects that underscore the supposed need for better, more frequent police data-gathering and media reporting of “hate incidents” — verbal slurs, varied forms of harassment and intimidation, vandalism, assault and murder. In part, this is posited as a “solution” to the kinds of violence that accompanied the deployment of openly racist and xenophobic rhetoric that Donald Trump relied upon to fuel his campaign and drive his presidency. But this isn’t the only motivation that drives hate frame expansion. Across the political spectrum, the landscape is littered with proposals and projects that strengthen the hate frame. Right-wing interests, for whom hate crime bills were once anathema, now eagerly embrace the template for their own purposes: expanding police powers and casting police, white people, corporations, even government itself as victims of hatred, intolerance and violence.

    This resurgence, with its intensified focus on policing, punishment and surveillance, is occurring now because in recent years, the brutal symbiosis between structural law enforcement violence and white supremacist violence has become much more publicly visible. Meanwhile, protests and public uprisings against police violence have been gaining momentum, along with abolitionist demands to #DefundThePolice and prioritize public health and social supports through strategies that redistribute wealth and political power.

    Political and economic elites respond to this destabilizing tension by doubling down on hate crime laws and related measures. While publicly agreeing with the need for reform, they are unwilling to embrace the change required to dismantle the racism inherent in policing and the criminal legal system as a whole. The troubling result is the promotion of a larger, more expansively criminalizing hate frame that goes far beyond hate crime laws.

    A version of centrist-extremist theory informs the hate frame. Political researchers and analysts Chip Berlet and Matthew Lyons note that this theory, formulated in the 1950s, conflates dissidents of the left and right as irrational, criminal extremists who represent a danger to a purported stable and just democratic elite that guards “the vital center.” Just as hate crime laws may be enforced against far right perpetrators of violence against racially marginalized communities, now right-wingers are advocating for hate crime laws to be used to target activists on the left for protesting and resisting police. In the words of Berlet and Lyons, the hate frame “denies the structural oppression at the core of U.S. society; it obscures this country’s long history of brutality and genocide; it lumps popular movements that fight oppression and supremacy with those that reinforce it.” It’s a theory tailor-made for defenders of the social, political and economic status quo, one that justifies repressive law enforcement violence by criminalizing those who work for structural change.

    How the Hate Frame Expands

    Recent expansions of the hate frame began with the post-Ferguson push by police unions to include police as a protected status category in hate crime law and the related proliferation of “Blue Lives Matter” laws. The alleged stomping on a “Back the Blue” sign put a Utah teen, described by a sheriff’s deputy as “smirking in an intimidating way,” in the hate crime crosshairs. A 2021 Florida “anti-riot” law severely criminalizes public protest, characterized as “civil unrest,” including protests against police violence. It includes a provision that encourages vigilante violence by granting civil legal immunity to people who drive through protesters blocking a road. And since 2017, a torrent of legal initiatives severely criminalizing protest have been proposed or enacted through state or federal legislative action or executive authorization.

    Proposals to increase capacity and law enforcement resources for addressing “domestic terrorism” are proliferating, supported by many centrists and liberals, despite the opposition of more than 150 civil rights and civil liberties organizations.

    The founding of the self-proclaimed “neutral and independent” Network Contagion Research Institute (NCRI) in 2018 is equally concerning. NCRI’s big-data mission is to “track and expose the epidemic of virtual deception, manipulation, and hate,” as it spreads between social media communities and into the real world. It shares data and analyses with media, governmental authorities, and others. This expands and institutionalizes unregulated systems of surveillance. Along the way, it conflates open calls for racist, antisemitic and patriarchal violence with the use of anti-police slogans, the existence of “militant anarcho-socialist networks,” and more. Housed at Rutgers University, NCRI is affiliated with the Anti-Defamation League (ADL), the organization that developed and actively promotes the hate crime framework, Open Society Foundations, and the Libertarian/right Charles Koch Foundation. The Institute claims that these affiliations — strikingly similar to the kinds of “strange bedfellows” alliances that drive problematic criminal legal system reform campaigns — demonstrate that NCRI “has no political agenda.” Matthew Lyons notes, however, that based on its list of leadership and strategic advisers, “NCRI represents a convergence of academia (mainly psychologists and artificial intelligence experts), big tech (notably Google’s director of research), and security agencies (with current or former people from the U.S. military, Department of Homeland Security, National Security Agency, New York City Police Department, and private firms).”

    Coordinated right-wing attacks on critical race theory (CRT) and accompanying calls to ban its teaching in schools also expand the hate frame by claiming that it promotes racial division, intolerance and discrimination. The Heritage Foundation not only claims that CRT is a vehicle for inculcating “intolerance” in schools, workplaces and cultural venues, but that it “[e]xplains how the Black Lives Matter organizations built an aggressive political movement on CRT’s racially focused ideas — ideas apologists can use to justify violent riots.” The attack on CRT is moving forward aggressively in Texas and other states.

    In 2021, Stop AAPI (Asian American and Pacific Islander) Hate published a report of harassment and violence directed against Asian people in the U.S. Although anti-Asian violence in the U.S., structural as well as vigilante-based, has a long history, reported surges have been linked to COVID-19 fear-mongering that casts China as a scapegoat. Instead of confronting the deep and abiding impact of anti-Asian racism in the United States, Congress members introduced the COVID-19 Hate Crimes Act, with the enthusiastic support of the Biden administration and little Republican opposition. It mandates expedited federal review of hate crimes and reports; federal guidance to state and local law enforcement agencies related to better reporting, data collection and educational outreach; and grants to state and local governments to beef up already inaccurate hate crime reporting and law enforcement.

    Around the same time the Stop AAPI Hate report was issued, President Joe Biden met with leaders from several major U.S. Jewish organizations. Mari Cohen of Jewish Currents reported that the meeting occurred “in response to a letter expressing concerns about a ‘surge in antisemitic attacks,’ which the groups connect to popular discourse and protest surrounding Israel’s military campaign in Gaza. Republican Senators Tom Cotton and Mitch McConnell announced their intention to introduce a bill combatting antisemitic hate crimes.” Instead of confronting the reality of persistent antisemitism in this country, lawmakers have dangerously conflated antisemitism with anti-Zionism and sought ways to criminalize Palestinian solidarity activism.

    Growing Opposition to the Hate Frame

    Despite its successes and resurgence, embrace and expansion of the hate frame across the political spectrum is not unstoppable.

    At the height of the 2021 Stop Asian Hate demands for strengthened law enforcement, more than 100 Asian and LGBTQ organizations issued a statement publicly rejecting “hate crime legislation that relies on anti-Black, law enforcement responses to the recent rise in anti-Asian bias incidents across the US.” Instead, noting that the roots of anti-Asian violence and racism are found in the colonization of the Americas, the statement laid out an analysis and vision calling for solidarity strategies with “Black, Brown, undocumented, trans, low-income, sex worker, and other marginalized communities whose liberation is bound together.” And the organizations called for shifts of resources from law enforcement to community well-being, removing police from communities and ending all forms of community policing.

    For the past two decades, as the hate frame has expanded, opposition to hate crime laws and the hate frame has also been growing. Originally mounted by individuals (most of them queer, trans and people of color) and organizations with long experience of fighting police violence, that opposition has mushroomed in recent years. We can chart its expansion: from a letter to the editor of a newspaper by a then-board member of the Audre Lorde Project; to the first public challenge to hate crime laws generally by a progressive Quaker organization; to the publication of “Stonewalled,” a landmark Amnesty International Report on law enforcement misconduct and abuse against LGBTQ people in the United States; to progressive/radical organizational rejection of particular hate crime laws; to Against Equality’s work in compiling and sharing selected articles and resources linking opposition to hate crime laws; to abolitionist perspectives on prisons and police violence from 1999 to 2013, and more.

    Growing opposition is fueled by the gritty, on-the-ground realities of grassroots organizing, the influence of abolitionist analysis and discourse, popular uprisings against police violence, and the failure of reforms to reduce the violence and inequality foundational to the U.S. criminal legal system.

    While this opposition is not yet strong enough to derail the current push for more hate crime laws and broader repressive application of the hate frame, we now have the opportunity to bring new strategic analyses and insight into our own organizing on many fronts — and to build stronger cross-movement relationships to push for structural justice.

    This post was originally published on Latest – Truthout.

  • Protesters march in downtown Miami on June 12, 2020, during a demonstration over the death of George Floyd.

    In the past year, following last summer’s uprising against racial injustice, Republican-led legislatures across the South have created new criminal penalties for protesters, some of which could empower police to conduct mass arrests if even a single protester creates a risk of property damage.

    Those new laws are part of a broader nationwide crackdown against protests. According to the International Center for Not-for-profit Law, 45 states have considered and 36 states have enacted new anti-protest laws since January 2017, a year that saw massive actions against the Dakota Access Pipeline and the Trump administration. Among the Southern states that have passed such laws in that time are Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Kentucky, Louisiana, Mississippi, Tennessee, Texas, and West Virginia, with others pending in Alabama, Georgia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, and Texas.

    Florida’s new law, signed by Gov. Ron DeSantis (R) in April, is particularly harsh. It created new riot-related felonies and also invented the new crime of “mob intimidation,” which lawmakers defined as a group of people trying to compel another person to, among other things, “maintain a particular viewpoint.” It carries a penalty of up to a year in prison.

    During a legislative hearing about the measure earlier this year, state Sen. Dianne Hart (D) argued it would impact people of color who were exercising their constitutional right to protest. Ben Frazier, a community leader in Jacksonville, warned that under the new law, “Martin Luther King would’ve never been able to march in Selma to Montgomery, across the Edmund Pettus Bridge.”

    Questions have been raised about whether people participating in ongoing Miami protests against Cuba’s communist government will be arrested for violating the law. Hundreds of protesters marched down one of the city’s busiest thoroughfares this week, but they weren’t cited for violating the new law, which prohibits blocking roads.

    Meanwhile, a new Kentucky law makes it a crime to insult police officers or deride them with gestures that tend “to provoke a violent response.” Two new Arkansas laws toughen the penalties for blocking traffic, defacing monuments, and trespassing on oil and gas pipelines. The Tennessee House passed a bill that would have imposed a potential six-year prison sentence for obstructing a sidewalk, but it didn’t move in the Senate.

    Civil liberties advocates are already challenging some of these new laws in court, charging they violate the First Amendment. In May, a federal judge declined to dismiss a lawsuit challenging a Louisiana law that drastically toughened penalties for trespassing on “critical infrastructure,” which includes oil and gas pipelines.

    And after DeSantis signed the Florida bill into law, a coalition of civil rights groups immediately sued the state. A federal judge ordered mediation in the case to be completed by late November, but the state is fighting the order, saying it would not be “a worthwhile use of the parties or the court’s resources.”

    Detaining Protesters in Alabama?

    In Alabama, the state House and Senate couldn’t agree on anti-protest legislation this year, but lawmakers recently pre-filed a bill for next year’s session. Its Republican sponsor, Rep. Allen Treadaway, retired last year as Birmingham’s assistant police chief.

    Treadaway claimed that his bill, which is similar to the version passed by the House this session, isn’t about “infringing on First Amendment rights, it’s just about the safety of everybody involved and that includes protesters.” But the Democratic leader in the House argued the bill “could have a very chilling effect on someone’s right to protest.”

    Under the pre-filed bill, a person commits the crime of “riot” by assembling in a way that “creates an immediate danger of damage to property” and defies a curfew or “order to disperse” from police. The bill also redefines “incitement to riot” to include anyone who funds or “aids” a riot. Both offenses would carry a mandatory 30-day sentence. The measure would also require that anyone arrested for riot or obstructing traffic be imprisoned for up to 24 hours with no bail.

    In addition, the Alabama bill would punish cities that reduce funding for police by withholding all of their state funding. And it creates a new felony, “assault against a first responder,” that leads to a mandatory six-month sentence.

    Given the broad language in the legislation, a person could serve six months in prison for “attempting” to spit on a police officer or “dogs or horses employed by a law enforcement agency,” which jt defines as first responders.

    Cops, Corporations Back Lawmakers

    Police officer unions and associations have supported anti-protest laws in Arkansas, Florida, North Carolina, and other states. According to Connor Gibson, who researched the laws on behalf of the Piper Fund, police officers or their labor unions have spoken out in favor of anti-protest bills in 13 states in the past year.

    In 19 states where anti-protest bills have been introduced since last June, former law enforcement officers acted as sponsors, as with the Alabama bill. The Southern States Police Benevolent Association based in Georgia was the top law enforcement donor to anti-protest bill sponsors, contributing $39,300.

    Many of the legislators sponsoring the new laws are also backing new voter suppression bills that will make it harder to vote. A new report from Greenpeace called it “a two-pronged attack on democracy.”

    Five of the top 10 corporate donors to sponsors of anti-protest bills are also among the top 10 donors to sponsors of voter suppression bills. They include AT&T, headquartered in Dallas, and two tobacco companies, Virginia-based Philip Morris and R.J. Reynolds headquartered in North Carolina. AT&T has also donated more than half a million dollars to the various campaigns of Texas Gov. Greg Abbott, a champion of the anti-protest legislation.

    While AT&T recently affirmed its commitment to supporting laws that make voting easier, it has been criticized for both the size of its campaign contributions and what The Intercept characterized as its “lackluster attempt” to address the movement for racial justice.

    This post was originally published on Latest – Truthout.

  • On 1 July, the All-Party Parliamentary Group (APPG) on Democracy and the Constitution published a report following its inquiry on the policing of the Sarah Everard vigil in London and Kill the Bill protests in Bristol. The report highlights “significant failings” in the policing of both events. It sets out that the policing of the Sarah Everard vigil in Clapham was “unlawful and breached fundamental rights”. It adds that Avon and Somerset Police used “disproportionate” force against Kill the Bill protesters in Bristol.

    A damning report

    In March, hundreds attended a vigil in Clapham, London to pay their respects to 33-year-old Sarah Everard, who was abducted and killed by a serving police officer while walking home. As reported by The Canary, attendees were met with “violent” and heavy-handed policing.

    Regarding the Sarah Everard vigil, the APPG report found that the Metropolitan Police’s “assumption that the gathering was unlawful… was the wrong place to start”. It adds that assistant commissioner Louisa Rolfe displayed a “fundamental misunderstanding” of the law regarding the right to protest in the UK. Regarding officer’s treatment of attendees, the report states that on several occasions, the police’s use of force “was not proportionate”. It concludes that the Met “did not take proper account of the right to protest, including the obligation to facilitate peaceful and safe protest”.

    ‘Excessive’ and ‘disproportionate’ policing

    The APPG report also condemns Avon & Somerset Police’s handling of Kill the Bill protests in Bristol. Following the Metropolitan Police’s heavy-handed response to the vigil on Clapham Common, people came together to protest the government’s proposed Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Bill. The bill includes plans to clamp down on the right to protest, and to increase police powers. Echoing what witnesses told The Canary in March, the APPG report explains that events in Bristol “escalated after police undertook enforcement action against peaceful sit-down protests”.

    The report confirms that Avon & Somerset Police “failed to distinguish between violent and peaceful protestors, leading to the use of force in unjustified situations”. The APPG highlights concerns about officers’ “disproportionate” and “excessive” use of force against peaceful protesters in Bristol, including the use of dogs, batons and riot shields. It adds that witnesses described the force’s crackdown on protesters following Bristol’s first Kill the Bill protest as “revenge policing”. Evidence includes the cases of Katie McGoran and Grace Hart, who both experienced wrongful detention at the hands of Avon & Somerset Police officers following protests.

    The Network for Police Monitoring (Netpol) submitted evidence to the inquiry about the policing of protests in Bristol. Responding to the APPG’s findings, a spokesperson told The Canary:

    The conclusions of this report are damning. We have long known that we cannot trust the police to protect our right to protest, and this report documents the utter failure of the police to consider their obligations under law to respect freedom of assembly rights. It even concludes that the enforcement approach taken by the police may have “caused, or at least exacerbated, some of the violence”.

    They added:

    Netpol has been calling for greater transparency from the police around the policing of protest and use of force, and in the absence of any data from the police on these we worked with grassroots groups to submit detailed evidence of the police violence in Bristol. Serious questions need to be asked and officers need to be held to account, as the report concludes that Avon and Somerset police’s use of force was excessive and unjustified, and may even amount to a criminal offence.

    Continued resistance to the bill

    The APPG sets out recommendations regarding the government’s proposed Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Bill, which returns to Parliament on 5 July. Responding to this, a spokesperson from Netpol told The Canary:

    We wholeheartedly welcome the recommendation of the report to completely remove the sections of the Bill which give the police powers to restrict protests. But this still wouldn’t address the issues with this draconian Bill, as it doesn’t address the measures which criminalise Gypsy, Roma and Traveller communities, or extend the power of the state to stop, search, surveil and incarcerate vulnerable people.

    Resistance against the proposed draconian bill continues unabated. Thousands of protesters descended on London on 26 June. The Kill the Bill coalition is now urging people to ask their MPs to support amendments to the proposed bill. These include Zarah Sultana’s call for an inquiry into the policing of protests, and Apsana Begum’s amendment seeking to scrap government plans for ‘secure schools‘. In spite of the heavy-handed policing meted out against peaceful protesters in March, Bristol’s 14th Kill the Bill protest is due to take place on 3 July.

    Featured image via Ehimetalor Akhere Unuabona/Unsplash

    By Sophia Purdy-Moore

    This post was originally published on The Canary.

  • Illustration of police officer with pills for eyes, pills swirling about

    Ashley* lived with addiction and anxiety for years, but she was in recovery and making progress in 2017 after finding treatment at Dr. Jay Joshi’s clinic in northwestern Indiana. Joshi was known as a pioneer of telehealth visits for addiction patients that became widely used during the COVID pandemic, an expansion that lawmakers and the American Medical Association (AMA) are now pushing to make permanent. Joshi prescribed Ashley buprenorphine, a standard for treating opioid addiction and preventing overdose. Untreated mental health conditions can play a role in drug addiction that is often overlooked, so Joshi set Ashley up with a psychologist through a telehealth service. On November 21, 2017, Ashley was at Joshi’s office for a telehealth therapy appointment with her psychologist when Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) agents arrived with a search warrant.

    At the time, Joshi was unaware that an undercover DEA agent had posed as a patient at his office to build a drug trafficking case against him. Agents took Joshi to a local police station for hours of questioning, where Joshi surrendered his DEA registration that allowed him to prescribe controlled substances — including buprenorphine. When he returned from the police station, Joshi said Ashley was deeply traumatized. Ashley told Joshi that she protested the interruption of her therapy appointment, so a DEA agent pulled out a gun and ordered her onto the ground.

    In grand jury testimony, former employees-turned-witnesses described the young physician’s practice as sloppy and his patients as “addicts,” a deeply harmful and stigmatizing term for patients in recovery. Joshi was accused of operating a “pill mill” in the local media, a claim Joshi says was manufactured by the DEA. Ashley and other patients were blacklisted by other local doctors, and without a buprenorphine prescription, Ashley relapsed and suffered fatal overdose. Stephanie, another patient who had stabilized and quit using heroin under Joshi’s care, also lost her prescription to buprenorphine. She soon died of an overdose after returning to heroin.

    “Any patient who was associated with me or had my DEA registration number on their prescription history, other physicians didn’t want see them,” Joshi said.

    Opioid Prescribing Plummets as Overdose Deaths Rise

    Since the early 2000s, rising rates of fatal drug overdoses breathed new life into the failing war on drugs. As they have during drug scares of the past, the government and mainstream media declared an “epidemic” of opioid addiction, and the crackdown on painkiller prescribing that followed injected the DEA — the federal law enforcement agency charged with waging the drug war — deep into the medical system. Opioid painkiller prescribing dropped sharply as a result, but the number of overdose deaths continued to rise before skyrocketing during the COVID pandemic.

    To understand the crackdown, Truthout obtained multiple DEA search warrants and court records detailing law enforcement efforts to shut down pharmacies and clinics, and interviewed chronic pain patients and their advocates, doctors, researchers, pharmacists and people recovering from opioid addiction across the United States. Their advocacy and research are poking big holes in longstanding media narratives linking painkiller overprescribing of the past to rising rates of fatal drug overdose today. A close look at the policing of opioids reveals a common theme of the war on drugs: Policymakers and drug police are harming the same people they claim to help. Like the drug war, the painful side effects of the opioid crackdown disproportionately fall on lower-income people and people of color, whether they use opioids for any reason or simply seek treatment for chronic pain. The prescribing crackdown appears to be exacerbating existing inequities in access to health care and addiction treatment, one reason why rates of fatal overdose are rising fastest in Black communities.

    “I have seen how, in these public health crises, the people we sort of want to help become stigmatized and end up losing access to care,” said Kate Nicholson, a former civil rights attorney for people with disabilities and pain patient who founded the National Pain Advocacy Center, in an interview. “The way in which we wage the drug war disproportionately against communities of color means that they are likely to face much greater barriers to health care.”

    Over the past decade, drug police began plundering data from private medical records services and statewide prescription monitoring databases to digitally surveil doctors, patients and millions of prescriptions. Often using federal prescribing guidelines that became a national controversy as a reference, drug cops with no formal medical training search for “red flags” in prescribing records, such as how far a patient travels to receive treatment or the total volume of controlled substances prescribed by a provider. The investigations have led to raids on hundreds of clinics and pharmacies across the country. In some cases, doctors and pharmacists strike plea deals for reduced sentences. In other cases, respected physicians, pharmacists and addiction specialists are caught in the dragnet and forced to fight the DEA in court.

    Doctors and pharmacists became increasingly wary of prescribing and dispensing opioids or even agreeing to treat patients prescribed opioids for chronically painful conditions in the first place. Others had their registrations to prescribe controlled substances revoked by the DEA pending rulings by the agency’s own administrative courts, or they closed their practices in fear of being raided and charged with drug trafficking.

    In many cases, patients are left with nowhere to turn, especially if they are low-income and reside in areas with few medical providers to begin with. A 2019 study by the University of Michigan found that 40 percent of health care providers refused to see any new patients prescribed opioids. Along with prescribing guidelines issued by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) in 2016 that were widely misapplied and led to misguided restrictions on opioid prescribing in dozens of states, the law enforcement crackdown left patients living with chronic pain without medications they rely on, forcing some toward illicit opioids such as heroin and fentanyl that vastly increase the risk of overdose. Others commit suicide.

    “I hear from people every day who have been forced off their meds and have lost their ability to work and function and are suicidal,” Nicholson said. “People are not just being forced-tapered [off medication] … they can’t even get health care anymore, just because they need a prescribed opioid to treat pain.”

    Both the legal and illicit markets for prescription painkillers shrank as a result of the crackdown and regulatory moves by the DEA. Illicit drugs such as heroin and counterfeit pills containing potent synthetic opioids replaced prescription painkillers in the illicit market. Opioid prescribing rates have plummeted since 2012, but rates of fatal drug overdose increased for years before briefly leveling off in 2018 as policymakers worked to make treatment more accessible. Overdose deaths began rising again in 2019, and then the COVID pandemic hit, isolating patients and drug users from friends, family and health supports. From October 2019 to October 2020, the number of overdose deaths recorded by the CDC surpassed 92,000, the highest level in decades.

    There are multiple factors and drugs besides opioids (methamphetamine, for example) behind the overdose epidemic. CDC overdose data is not always accurate, and overdose deaths often involve multiple drugs, including alcohol. Research shows that only a small percentage of overdose deaths are caused by prescription opioids alone. Illicit drugs containing fentanyl are driving the historic rates of death in part because, unlike prescription drugs, they can vary widely in potency, particularly when law enforcement disrupts the supply. A 2020 study found that 57 percent of 2,887 military veterans who died of overdose or suicide had a prescription to painkillers that was cut off by their doctors.

    “I believe that a lot of the industrial binary focus on stopping opioid prescriptions reflects a belief that that will somehow stop overdoses from happening … that if we just stop these patients from receiving the pills they are on, they will be protected,” said Stefan Kertesz, a professor of preventative medicine at the University of Alabama who is studying links between reductions in prescribing and suicides. “That presumption just has not held up, so far.”

    At the same time, the government has been slow to lift barriers to the most effective medications for treating opioid addiction and preventing overdose, methadone and buprenorphine, which are heavily scrutinized by police and surveilled by the DEA because they are also prescription opioids.

    Nationally, less than 6 percent of doctors are allowed to prescribe buprenorphine under a special federal waiver that medical experts and advocates say must be removed to save lives. The waiver takes a day or so to obtain, but advocates say many doctors don’t bother due to the stigma around treating people with opioid addiction. Like Joshi, numerous doctors who do prescribe buprenorphine have been targeted by the DEA. A study released in May by researchers in Oregon found that one in five pharmacies in counties with high rates of opioid overdose refuse to dispense buprenorphine. The problem is especially prevalent among independent pharmacies, which are often targeted over large companies by drug cops seeking out the latest “pill mill” to bust. Patients recovering from addiction say buprenorphine is often difficult access even when it’s stocked by a local pharmacy due to stigma reinforced by fear of law enforcement.

    A Safer Supply Is Criminalized

    In the final days of the Trump administration, James Carroll, President Trump’s drug czar, boasted that the “prescription opioid epidemic is now over.” A major decrease in opioid prescribing and related overdoses, Carroll said, was one of the administration’s major achievements. Critics were irate. How could the Trump administration claim victory when overdose deaths were ballooning on their watch?

    Six months earlier, the AMA warned the Trump administration that the overdose crisis had never just been about prescription opioids, and the nation is now facing an unprecedented “multi-factorial” crisis driven by drugs such as illicit fentanyl. The government could no longer view the crisis through a “prescription opioid-myopic lens.” Moreover, chronic pain patients are harmed by the crackdown and the CDC’s prescribing guidelines, which caused large numbers of patients to be forcibly tapered off their medication or cut off altogether, often against their will.

    “There is no evidence that forced stoppage of the individual’s medications leads to a better outcome, none,” Kertesz said. “That’s crucial.”

    Kertesz pointed to a new study showing that that the net effects of policies that encourage doctors to lower the dose of opioids prescribed to patients are uncertain, but rapid discontinuation of opioid therapy is associated with increased the risk of overdose and suicide. Abrupt stoppage of opioid therapy has become the “norm,” Kertesz said, and those who argue that policies aimed at decreasing opioid prescribing over the past decade simply represent more “judicious prescribing” practices are misleading the public.

    “There are 8 to 10 million people on long-term opioids, and a meaningful number of those people actually need to be on them, so setting up system that by design abandons 1 to 10 million patients is not a good thing, but we have set that up,” Kertesz said. “We have now set up incentives for doctors and pharmacists to avoid care for those people, many of whom have disabilities.”

    In 2018, senior analysts at the CDC revealed that for years, the number of overdose deaths the agency attributed to prescription opioids was vastly inflated due to problems with data collection classification. For example, deaths caused by illicit fentanyl were blamed on the prescription form of fentanyl, which is often used in emergency rooms. Overdoses involving a combination of drugs were also misclassified. Last year, researchers concluded that, for over a decade, “millions of Americans” were “misled” by the CDC, politicians and the media to believe that the drug overdose crisis was driven by deaths caused by prescription opioids.

    Patients prescribed opioids to treat long-term chronic pain are organizing across the country to overturn the CDC guidelines, and the debunking of CDC data and the AMA’s statement validated their cause. In interviews, multiple chronic pain patients said prescription opioids help them live more normal lives, but their lives became collateral damage of the war on opioid prescribing. Patients report that doctors refuse to treat them and pharmacies won’t fill their prescriptions, leaving them in disabling pain. Mothers are punished by hospitals after childbirth and even charged with crimes for continuing opioid therapy prescribed by a doctor during pregnancy.

    “Opioids can be used safely during pregnancy, and we also know that when the response is immediately punitive or the application of the criminal legal system, there is actually far worse outcomes for babies and families, instead of being able to work that out with their doctor,” said Dana Sussman, deputy executive director of the National Advocates for Pregnant Women, in an interview.

    Chronic pain patients and their advocates argue the narrative linking opioid prescribing to the overdose epidemic is a “hoax,” and they are engaged in a pitched media battle with the “anti-opioid zealots” who pushed the CDC to discourage long-term opioid prescribing for anyone besides cancer patients and people dying in hospice. Advocates point to research showing that rates of fatal drug overdose correlate with economic decline in many communities and have been rising rapidly since the late 1970s, not the mid-1990s when painkiller prescribing became more liberal thanks to campaigns by drug companies that have garnered plenty of headlines. The prescribing debate is extremely emotional, with each side attacking the other over credentials and alleged ties to the pharmaceutical and biomedical industries. (Kertesz said he was attacked in the media by an “expert in the field” for simply announcing a study on deprescribing and suicides. “Attacking investigators in the absence of any knowledge of their work would not be customary behavior in any area of medicine,” he said in an email. “But in this topical area, it is.”)

    “The way tapering is happening in the real world is just horrible, even for people who are using their medication appropriately,” Nicholson said.

    As an addiction specialist working at an emergency room and poison control center in Ohio, Dr. Ryan Marino has plenty of experience on the front lines. The narrative that overprescribing is causing an overdose crisis is clearly overblown, Marino said, because reductions in prescribing has not brought down deaths. Marino says he often sees patients who were prescribed high doses of opioids for years until their medication was abruptly tapered or cut off after CDC prescribing “guidelines” became public policy and even law in some states.

    “Those patients went through hell … naturally, some turned to street drugs because it is so miserable to have opioids cut off, whether you have addiction or not,” Marino told Truthout. “Seeing those patients has cast an additional shadow over this overdose epidemic that we are seeing, because the over-reactionary response is now creating additional harms.”

    Marino said the manufacturing and dispensing of opioids can be a real money-maker in a for-profit health system, and overprescribing played a role early on in the crisis. At the same time, prescription drugs are much safer to use than illicit heroin and fentanyl. Marino said there are good arguments for access to a safe supply of opioids — including prescription heroin for people at high risk of overdose — because people using regulated opioids under medical supervision are far less likely to die.

    “We need some sort of regulation [of prescribing], but the oversight the DEA provides seems more in line with reducing prescribing than ensuring that prescribing is appropriate and ensuring that people have access to prescriptions,” Marino said. “The reality is, most people who were using Oxycontin never wanted to switch to heroin, and people who were using heroin never wanted to switch to fentanyl.”

    Kertesz, who has worked closely with low-income and houseless patients, also takes a nuanced view of prescribing. Like Marino, Kertesz said there were problems with overprescribing in the past, when medications were heaped upon patients instead of affording them more holistic care. However, abruptly cutting patients off from medicines they depend on can cause all sorts of problems, particularly for people who have trouble consistently accessing health care in the first place. Doctors must make prescribing decisions based of the particular needs of a patient, but the crackdown has siloed prescribing as either “appropriate” or potentially illegal.

    “We have now set up an entire system to push a change to care that does not have evidence for being safe or effective for patients,” Kertesz said.

    For example, law enforcement often sees a “red flag” when patients are prescribed high doses of opioids or combinations of controlled substances, even when the prescriber is simply continuing the patient on a long-term regimen. While scrutinized by drug police as a sign of criminal activity, Nicholson said some patients benefit from drug combinations under appropriate medical supervision. Kertesz said assuming something “criminal” is going on when patients are prescribed higher doses of opioids or more than one psychoactive drug at time is “a big leap.” The same goes for other “red flags” drug police look for in statewide prescribing databases and records kept by pharmacies.

    “A patient who has filled a script in two pharmacies, or a patient who has traveled a distance … anybody who has multiple complex needs is already suspect, anyone who is rural by definition is suspect,” Kertesz said. “Pharmacists are trying not to lose their jobs, so they transfer all this stigma and burden to patients.”

    There is a difference between “drug dependence” and “drug addiction.” Addiction is characterized by impulsive drug use despite adverse consequences. Physiological drug dependence results from the continued use of many medications — not just opioids. Addiction is rare in patients prescribed opioids for pain, and while long-term use can create dependence, the benefits can also outweigh the harms. People living with opioid addiction may also be seeking relief from untreated pain, trauma or mental anguish. Either way, abruptly cutting people off from opioids is dangerous. That’s why methadone and buprenorphine are prescribed for opioid addiction and dependence. Both drugs stabilize patients and stave off painful withdrawal symptoms, which is crucial for preventing overdose.

    Advocates say the nuance is lost on the DEA and other law enforcement agencies. Drug cops are laser-focused on opioid “diversion,” the idea prescription opioids are being sold and used outside of their intended purpose. Data on diversion varies by source; a 2017 federal survey found that less than 11 percent of people who misused prescriptions opioids bought them on the street or stole them from a pharmacy or medical facility. If the rest are “misusing” their own prescriptions or obtaining them from friends and family — an idea that often offends pain patients — then anti-diversion efforts are effectively targeting prescribers and patients themselves.

    For years, the government and mainstream media claimed diversion was the source of the overdose crisis, even as the data began telling a much different story. There is plenty of anecdotal evidence, for example, that buprenorphine is usually diverted to people living with addiction. Vermont recently decriminalized possession of buprenorphine without a prescription for that reason. The crackdown on diversion created grey areas that turned doctors and pharmacists into suspected drug dealers and patients into suspected criminals. In an ironic way, it worked. Pills became harder to find on the street, but reducing the supply did nothing to treat chronic pain or addiction. Overdoses involving illicit opioids are surging, and a growing chorus of drug users and advocates declare that “every overdose is a policy failure.” The DEA did not respond to a list of questions by the time this article was published.

    “They Look at Prescribing as a Crime”

    Joshi ran a general medical practice in Indiana, and he prescribed opioids for chronic pain as well as addiction. The DEA claimed Joshi was writing more prescriptions for controlled substances than most doctors in Indiana; Joshi says he served a population with serious medical needs. It was the undercover DEA agent’s job to pose as a “drug seeking” patient and catch Joshi in the act of prescribing and secretly record it on video. Joshi says he tended to trust his patients, but trusting the undercover agent was his downfall. He also suspects a former employee wrote fraudulent prescriptions before becoming and informant for the DEA, although he has been unable to prove it.

    “They are transplanting people in the health care field as a drug-dealing ring, so I am the captain drug dealer; you snitch on me and you go free,” Joshi said.

    Terrified, Joshi accepted a plea deal after he was indicted on multiple drug charges. However, the DEA’s case against him shifted over time and relied on inconsistent witness testimony, leaving a federal judge frustrated when the time came for sentencing, according to a review of court documents. The DEA accused Joshi of recklessly prescribing controlled substances, but prosecutors were unable to produce evidence that his patients did not have legitimate medical needs for the drugs Joshi prescribed. Multiple patients testified that Joshi’s practice made serious improvements in their lives. A day before Joshi was indicted, his clinic was recognized by the National Committee for Quality Assurance for “patient-centered, coordinated care.”

    “A lot of people have it a lot worse than I do; there really wasn’t any evidence in my case,” Joshi said. “They essentially made a bunch of false statements.… Just the act of prescribing, it was construed as a crime. They don’t look at the clinical decision-making behind a prescription, they look at prescribing as a crime.”

    A young doctor with a new practice and a child on the way, Joshi admits that he made mistakes. After losing his registration to prescribe controlled substances, Joshi says he unknowingly broke state rules by hiring nurse practitioners to write prescriptions for his patients. He also wrote a handful of prescriptions under another doctor’s name. Joshi says he tried to find workarounds out of concern for his patients. He did not want their “continuum of care” to be interrupted, but the judge saw a violation of the law.

    “I tried to do what was right for my patients, but that was a deviation against the regulatory policies,” Joshi said.

    Joshi was sentenced to 15 months in prison for writing an unnecessary prescription to an undercover agent and allowing prescribing to continue at his office after he lost his DEA registration. He got out a few months early on good behavior. By the time he was sentenced, many of his patients were receiving the same treatment they had received from Joshi from other doctors. Stephanie and Ashley were not so lucky. Both women overdosed and died after law enforcement suddenly interrupted their medical care and their safe supply of medication ran out.

    *Ashley’s name has been changed to protected her identity.

    This post was originally published on Latest – Truthout.

  • As the U.S. marks 50 years since President Richard Nixon declared a war on drugs on June 17, 1971, we speak with journalist Maya Schenwar, editor-in-chief of the news website Truthout, whose sister Keeley died of a drug overdose in February 2020 at the age of 29. Schenwar says her sister’s death came after “a long cycle of criminalization” that made her chances of recovery much harder. “She became so afraid of being rearrested,” says Schenwar, who notes that many drug users avoid seeking medical help because of the fear of police involvement and incarceration. “Why are we supporting criminalization at the expense of people’s actual survival?” she asks. Drug overdoses have soared during the pandemic, causing over 92,000 deaths in the United States in the 12-month period ending in November — the most since the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention began keeping track over two decades ago. Experts say the pandemic and the increasing availability of synthetic opioids such as fentanyl have contributed to the death toll.

    TRANSCRIPT

    This is a rush transcript. Copy may not be in its final form.

    AMY GOODMAN: We begin today with a deadly scourge striking down people at an alarming rate. No, it’s not COVID; it’s drug overdoses. Over 92,000 people died from overdoses in the United States in the 12-month period ending in November — the most since the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention began keeping track over two decades ago. Many experts cite two factors for the surge in deaths: the pandemic and the increasing availability of fentanyl and other synthetic opioids. This all comes as the nation marks 50 years since President Richard Nixon declared a war on drugs June 17th, 1971.

    We begin today’s show with someone who lost her sister to an overdose just as the pandemic was starting. Maya Schenwar joins us from Chicago, where she works as editor-in-chief of the news website Truthout. Her sister Keeley died of a drug overdose in February 2020 at the age of 29. Maya’s piece about her death is just out; it’s headlined “My Sister Died of an Overdose. Defunding the Police Might Have Saved Her.” Maya is the co-author of Prison by Any Other Name and author of Locked Down, Locked Out: Why Prison Doesn’t Work and How We Can Do Better.

    Maya, welcome to Democracy Now! Our condolences on the death of your sister. The story you tell is heartrending. Tell us the story of Keeley, how she lived — she is also a mother — and how she died.

    MAYA SCHENWAR: Absolutely. Thank you for having me.

    You know, my sister Keeley was, as you said, a wonderful mother, a writer, an animal lover and a friend. And she died last year, thanks to a long cycle of criminalization. Keeley was incarcerated for the first time when she was 15. And for the next 14 years, she was just cycling in and out of jail and prison, as well as alternatives, like electronic monitoring and drug treatment. And the things that she was arrested for were always related to her addiction, even when they weren’t drug charges. So, she would go to prison. She would become even more deeply traumatized, because that’s what prison does — it traumatizes people. And she would emerge with even fewer opportunities and options. And then she would just go back to heavily using heroin to help deal with that pain.

    And I want to point out real quick: So, heroin, in a vacuum, just like any other drug, is not the problem. People, I think, can use most stigmatized drugs and be OK, you know, even the most stigmatized drugs like heroin. But people are not supported in using drugs and being OK, because they’re criminalized.

    So, while Keeley was incarcerated, horrible things happened to her, like anyone who’s locked up. She experienced violence that was perpetrated by guards. She experienced the daily violence that everyone experiences of strip searches and medical neglect, and really just being called by a number instead of by your name. And also she experienced giving birth to her baby while she was incarcerated, and a prison guard was just sitting there watching her give birth.

    And when Keeley returned to using heroin after her time in prison or a mandated treatment program, each time, she was at a much greater risk of overdose. And this is something I really want to emphasize. This is true for so many people who use drugs who are released from prison. So, within the first couple of weeks after being released, someone’s risk of overdose is almost 13 times higher than it is for the rest of the population. And that’s partly because your tolerance for the drug is lower, because you haven’t been using.

    So, last year, my sister was in a drug treatment program, a drug court program, so a mandatory treatment, and it was based around abstinence, not using the drug, and so her tolerance was reduced. And she was also very scared of being rearrested, because she knew that that would mean returning to prison and being separated from her daughter again. And so she was avoiding seeking any kind of medical help, because it could mean police involvement. So, at that point [inaudible] —

    JUAN GONZÁLEZ: Maya, I wanted to ask you, in terms of —

    MAYA SCHENWAR: Yeah.

    JUAN GONZÁLEZ: When she was out of prison, what kind of medical or therapeutic help did she receive during those periods of time? And also, you’ve said that her interactions with police made her situation worse, not better. If you could talk about that, as well?

    MAYA SCHENWAR: Yeah, absolutely. So, while she was out of prison, she would occasionally receive some support. She tried to be engaged in medication-assisted treatment, which has proven to support people with heroin addictions. But so much of the treatment that she experienced was based around surveillance and policing. And this is something that we see with many, many people who are criminalized and also use drugs, because it’s inside of the criminal legal system, so we see substance use as a problem that is within the criminal system even if we’re not sending people to jail.

    And so, when people are sent to a mandated drug treatment center, when treatment is mandated, the research shows that that’s not actually effective in helping people recover. And also we have to think about, ethically, you know, whether we should be putting people in a position where they’re mandated to do certain things with their bodies and their minds.

    And so, Keeley was always surveilled. And she was not able to do the things that many of us are able to do to create a meaningful life. You know, she wasn’t given opportunities to pursue her interests, to be with her family in a sustained way. Many of these treatments actually separated her from her family and confined her, just like prison.

    And then, the thing I mention often about policing and the role that it played in her death was she became so afraid of being rearrested. And this is a very common fear among people who use drugs, and particularly among marginalized people who use drugs — Black people, Indigenous people, trans people, people with disabilities and mental health diagnoses. You know, police are targeting them very, very heavily, so it’s a warranted fear. And so, seeking any kind of medical attention, particularly calling 911, can put you at risk for police contact, and that can lead to a return to incarceration. So, even when, in theory, there are options available and people say, “Well, why didn’t you seek help?” it’s like, “Well, you know, why would you seek help if the threat of punishment and torture and trauma is just hanging over your head every single second of the day?”

    JUAN GONZÁLEZ: And I wanted to ask you — in 2019, Keeley was sentenced to two years in drug court. Explain what that means. And what happened to her after that?

    MAYA SCHENWAR: Yeah. So, drug court is a diversion. So, the idea is that someone will be diverted either pretrial or sentenced to treatment instead of prison. And this option has grown substantially in popularity over the past few years. And it’s something that Biden has heavily promoted. It’s often a thing that generates bipartisan enthusiasm.

    But what people aren’t acknowledging is it’s still criminalization. So it still involves arresting people. Just arrest is a trauma. It’s within the criminal legal system, which is built on foundations of white supremacy, and so it’s still targeting people of color, targeting Black people. It’s still operating within a mindset of surveillance, so drug testing people constantly. It’s still operating within a model of abstinence, which we know is not actually the best way to help people survive.

    And so, even though we know all these things, we’re endorsing this program, I think, because — partly, because it’s so hard to break out of this punishment mindset. And we need to challenge ourselves and say, “What are we doing? Why are we supporting criminalization at the expense of people’s actual survival and ability to find support and ability to find resources?”

    You know, I think one really sad thing about all the money that is going into drug policing and drug courts and all of these resources, not only are harming and killing people, but, like the defund police movement has brought up again and again, what could we have if we diverted those resources and spent even more resources, as well, on things like housing and education and noncoercive healthcare and mental healthcare and more recreational opportunities and the arts and ways for people to live meaningful and livable lives and have all kinds of options to support their survival? That’s where we should be directing our energy.

    AMY GOODMAN: Maya, I’d like to go back to June 2014, when your sister, Keeley Schenwar, participated in a panel discussion in Chicago on breastfeeding and incarceration. Keeley read a poem she wrote for her baby daughter while she was incarcerated. Keeley gave birth while she was in prison, was taken away from her newborn daughter only after 24 hours with her.

    KEELEY SCHENWAR: It took me over a month to start writing. It’s so hard for me to think about all I’ve already put you through. Nurses give me updates when the counselors here let me call. They say you’re almost 10 pounds, starting to feel better, and that you love your baths.

    I’m not the one that holds you when you cry or the one that you look at when you open your eyes. It kills me to know that the reality is I’m not a part of your life. I brought you into a world full of great things that are surrounded with pain, that which you already know too well, and I have no choice but to let you handle it all on your own and without a mother.

    I guess you’re not alone. It doesn’t make sense — or, it doesn’t matter, nothing about this feels right. Although I know you won’t remember this, I can’t help but wonder if you feel the emptiness I carry day and night without you close or anywhere in sight.

    I know my handwriting is sometimes sloppy, but it’s late, and I’m writing in the background of the dim prison hallway lights. I’m about to miss your first Halloween, just as I’ve missed these last two months. I wish none of this was — I wish none of this was true, but deep inside, really underneath a whole lot, I know I need to tell you nothing but the truth, which also includes that I love you. I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to you.

    AMY GOODMAN: That’s Keeley Schenwar back in 2014. I am so sorry, Maya, how difficult this is for you, which makes it all the more brave for you to have written this piece in Truthout and to tell your sister’s stories and her truths. As we talk about her baby being taken away from her so quickly, can you talk about her terror to get help because she was always afraid she’d lose her baby, that they’d take her baby from her, and what you think needs to happen now, and if Cori Bush’s new resolution, that she just introduced into Congress, the People’s Response Act, which would send unarmed, trained professionals to respond to mental health and substance abuse crises instead of police, would make a difference?

    MAYA SCHENWAR: Yes. Thank you, Amy. Thank you for playing that poem. I am overwhelmed. The poem is so beautiful. But it shouldn’t have had to be written.

    Tearing a mother away from her newborn baby is one of the most violent acts in the universe. And it’s perpetrated by our legal system. And I think when we think about the terror of Keeley and so many mothers and parents who use drugs and, more generally, who are criminalized, we have to think about this double punishment, the fact that not only are they under threat of being put into torture chambers — prisons — but also they’re under threat of this deep, deep, wrenching punishment of being torn away. And, of course, for Keeley, that was also the trauma of actually being pregnant and giving birth behind bars.

    And when we look forward and think about, “Well, what can be done?” I think the number one thing we need to be thinking about is end criminalization and policing. And, you know, this might sound like something we’re doing away with instead of introducing, but I think it’s generative, because criminalization and incarceration are traumatizing and torturing people, and they’re also putting us in the mindset that this is all we can do, that this is our go-to solution. Well, you can’t actually administer “treatment” through a system like that. And as we’ve discussed, police are actually making it less likely that people are going to seek emergency help when they really need it.

    And so, I think that, within that, we also need to look at some of the other demands that are being made by organizers working to defund the police and to defend Black lives. And I think that Cori Bush’s legislation does encompass some of that. We need to be fueling resources toward priorities that affirm life, and that includes housing, education, food, healthcare. These things would absolutely reduce overdoses, in addition to all the other many benefits they would have and the ways in which they would build toward creating a more flourishing and meaningful and equitable society. And I think creating nonpolice emergency responses is definitely something we should be funding and fueling. I believe Cori Bush’s bill actually puts funding into existing programs, which is good, and we also need to be lifting up and funding and supporting all of the mutual aid efforts and the efforts that have actually been created by people who use drugs to support people in their survival, come up with creative harm reduction techniques and actually bring those to the community.

    And I think that, in addition — I just want to say real quickly — that actually legalizing drugs, and doing that in a way that’s informed by racial justice, that grants reparations to people most impacted by the drug war, that also has to happen, too, as we’re talking about all these issues with people dealing with contaminated drugs, people dealing with overdoses when they didn’t even realize what amount they were taking. So I think it’s all of these things together, with a mindset of freedom and supporting people in their survival, a mindset of healing and liberation, instead of the idea that you can confine and surveil and police people into so-called recovery.

    AMY GOODMAN: Maya Schenwar, I want to thank you so much for being with us. Again, this is a conversation we will continue. Maya is editor-in-chief of Truthout. Her sister Keeley died of a drug overdose in February 2020 at the age of 29. Maya’s piece about her death is just out. We’ll link to it. It’s headlined “My Sister Died of an Overdose. Defunding the Police Might Have Saved Her.” Maya Schenwar is co-author of Prison by Any Other Name and author of Locked Down, Locked Out: Why Prison Doesn’t Work and How We Can Do Better.

    Next up, we’ll speak with Democratic Congressmember Nikema Williams of Georgia about her Abolition Amendment to end forced prison labor. We’ll also talk with her about voting rights and infrastructure spending. Stay with us.

    This post was originally published on Latest – Truthout.

  • On 15 August 2016, ex-footballer Dalian Atkinson died as a result of excessive use of force by police. West Mercia officers shot Atkinson with a taser, beat him, and kicked him in the head. On 23 June, the court found PC Benjamin Monk guilty of the manslaughter of Atkinson. According to INQUEST, this is the first time in 35 years that a UK police officer has been found guilty of manslaughter following a death in police contact or custody. Although this is a landmark conviction, we have yet to see justice properly served as UK police continue to use force excessively and disproportionately against Black people.

    A harmful weapon

    On 19 June – just days before the court handed down the judgement on Atkinson’s case – the Independent Office for Police Conduct (IOPC) found Greater Manchester police’s use of a taser on NHS worker Desmond Ziggy Mombeyarara to be lawful. In May 2020, police pulled Mombeyarara over for speeding. They proceeded to taser him for making “no real attempt to comply” with police. Believing that police had shot his father, Mombeyarara’s distressed 5-year-old son screamed “Daddy” when his limp body slumped to the ground.

    The IOPC found no reason to take disciplinary action over the case. The inquiry found “no evidence to suggest the complainant’s ethnicity was a factor in the decision to use force against him”. But according to Her Majesty’s Inspectorate of Constabulary and Fire & Rescue Services (HMICFRS) statistics, UK police are more likely to taser Black people.

    Black people make up around 3% of the UK population, but they account for 8% of deaths in police custody. According to 2019/20 data from HMICFRS, police are over 5 times more likely to use force against Black people than their white counterparts. They are 9 times more likely to draw tasers on Black people. Tasers – which deliver a high-voltage electric shock – can cause severe physical and mental harm.

    Use of taser in mental health crises

    According to INQUEST, “the proportion of BAME deaths in custody where mental health-related issues are a feature is nearly two times greater than it is in other deaths in custody”. And police are more likely to taser people in mental health distress. In 2017, police used tasers against mental health patients in healthcare settings 96 times. Dr Kerry Pimblott, lecturer at the University of Manchester and Resistance Lab member, said:

    Tasers are used by police in ways that reinforce systemic racism and other interlocking inequalities with disproportionate and potentially lethal consequences for black communities and individuals with mental health conditions in particular.

    Tragically, this was the case for Darren Cumberbatch. In 2017, police beat and tasered Cumberbatch while he was experiencing a mental health crisis. An inquest found the police’s excessive use of force contributed to his premature death. But up until June 2020, there had been no prosecution.

    While also in Ireland, in December 2020, gardai (Irish police) shot and killed young George Nkencho on his doorstep while he was experiencing a mental health crisis. The inquest into his death opened on 21 June. His family is now calling on a coroner to examine “the wider and broader circumstances of a young black man being shot dead by a white officer”.

    Use of taser on children

    A 2018 report by the Children’s Rights Alliance England (CRAE) revealed that in 2017, police used tasers against children at least 871 times. Some of these children were as young as 12. Police also tasered four children under the age of 10. During the first 9 months of 2018, police used the electric weapon against children 839 times, suggesting that their use against children is increasing.

    According to CRAE, police used tasers disproportionately against BAME children, who make up around 18% of the 10-17-year-old population. Over half of the children police tasered were from a BAME background. According to 2019 data, 74% of taser incidents involving children in London involved BAME children.

    Responding to a call from the UN ‘committee on the rights of the child’ for the UK government to stop using tasers on children, the government said:

    While we support the recommendation in principle, we believe it is impractical to implement it while Taser is in use for other age groups and officers’ first priority must be to defend members of the public or themselves.

    This response strongly suggests that the government is more concerned with controlling children than protecting them and their rights.

    Time for change

    Although Monk’s conviction for the manslaughter of Atkinson was a landmark moment for police accountability, 103 more people have died in or following police custody or contact since Atkinson’s death. This means 103 more grieving families left without justice and without answers. And in spite of the evidence of the profound harm tasers can cause, in 2019, the Home Office announced it would spend £10m on arming more police officers with the electronic weapon.

    As Leicester East MP Claudia Webbe shared, we need “formal oversight” and “scrutiny” – not more tasers. If we don’t see change, we will see more deaths, and more grieving families without access to justice or reparation.

    Featured image via Ehimetalor Akhere Unuabona/Unsplash 

    By Sophia Purdy-Moore

    This post was originally published on The Canary.

  • Juneteenth marks a seminal moment in American history. The celebration, which takes place on June 19, commemorates the emancipation of those who were enslaved in the U.S. 

    While chattel slavery’s end is often tied to President Abraham Lincoln’s declaration of the Emancipation Proclamation on Jan. 1,1863, 250,000 slaves in Texas didn’t learn of their freedom until June 19, 1865 — when Union General Gordon Granger arrived with an army to liberate them and announced that “[the] people of Texas are informed that, in accordance with a proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free.” Since then, Juneteenth (short for June 19th) has become known as the country’s second independence day

    Liberation is core to the Innocence Project’s mission. In commemoration of Juneteenth, we offer five ideas for being a better ally in the struggle for racial justice and criminal justice reform, drawn from our five pillars of work: Exonerate, Improve, Reform, Support, and Educate.  

    Exonerate

    The Innocence Project works to free and exonerate wrongfully convicted people and to reform the systems that lead to these injustices.

    Similarly, it’s important for allies to proactively engage in breaking down systemic barriers that prevent vulnerable people from receiving fair and equal treatment by the country’s policing systems and criminal legal institutions. 

    Racial disparities within our criminal justice systems — from the stark difference in the arrests of Black and white people to the disproportionate sentencing of Black and brown people — highlight the extent of the discrimination. According to an ABC News analysis of 2018 arrest data voluntarily reported to the FBI by thousands of police departments across the country, for instance, Black people were, on average, five times more likely than white people to be arrested. Furthermore, a study published by the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences found that Black women and men, along with American Indian and Alaska Native women and men, were more likely than white women and men to be killed by police. Black men, for example, were 2.5 times more likely to be killed by police than white men, while American Indian women were between 1.1 times and 2.1 times more likely to be killed by police than white women. 

    The injustice has also manifested in the treatment of Black and brown defendants in court. According to a 2017 report from the United States Sentencing Commission, for example, Black men convicted of crimes continued to receive longer sentences than similarly situated white men. Black and Latinx people are also more likely than white people to be denied bail, face a higher cash bail, and be detained as a result of not being able to post bail, the Sentencing Project notes. More concerningly, Black people are the most likely to be wrongfully convicted for crimes they didn’t commit, according to the National Registry of Exonerations

    Addressing some of these issues begins with holding those in power accountable and making sure that people who are pushing for fair and equitable criminal justice systems are in those positions of power. Raising concerns at community board meetings or taking part in civilian review boards establishes a level of police oversight. Moreover, voting for candidates with a commitment to reform who are looking to fill local judiciary, prosecutor, or attorney general positions can help ensure that criminal legal systems are guided by those who better understand the impact of the law on marginalized communities.

    Improve

    In addition to providing the wrongly convicted with legal representation, the Innocence Project works through legal systems to improve the law and its practice. Attorneys take a range of approaches to help establish legal precedent in areas that are prone to inaccuracies (such as the use of unreliable forensic evidence and eyewitness testimony). Addressing these root causes of injustices is part of the organization’s larger endeavor to improve the systems for everyone and particularly those who are most vulnerable. 

    In the fight to improve criminal justice systems on a broader scale, allies need to first understand that the perception and treatment of arrested individuals too often depends on how they look and where they come from. For instance, people who live in neighborhoods with high levels of punitive police surveillance and fewer financial resources (many of whom are working-class people of color) are more likely to be arrested multiple times and experience racism. Those who live in higher-income neighborhoods and can hire their own attorneys, on the other hand, are more likely to be given a second chance by law enforcement. 

    Being a powerful advocate for criminal justice reform involves learning about racial and class biases. Allies who want to improve criminal justice systems might start by strengthening their understanding of how racial discrimination, classism, and the legal systems intersect in the U.S. and how they have, in turn, marginalized at-risk populations. 

    Reform

    The Innocence Project engages in policy work, collaborating with Congress, state legislatures, and local officials to pass laws and policies that limit wrongful convictions. The work touches on issues including — but not limited to — police deception, misapplication of forensic science, proper compensation for exonerees, and access to post-conviction DNA testing. Reforming these issues through large-scale advocacy guarantees that everyone — not just the organization’s clients — are afforded a degree of justice. 

    Allies should consider how they can broaden their allyship to help those outside their personal circle. Recent racial violence across the U.S., alongside increasing political polarization, has highlighted a desperate need for reform in every facet of American society. Police murders of Black and brown people, for instance, have drawn attention to the lack of guidelines and laws that hold law enforcement accountable. In response, advocacy groups, together with local and state officials, have worked together to revamp police practices. In May, for example, Illinois passed legislation that banned the use of deceptive police tactics in the interrogation of minors. The law was rooted in the work and expertise of the Innocence Project, the Illinois Innocence Project, the Office of Cook County State’s Attorney Kim Foxx, and the Center on Wrongful Convictions at Northwestern University School of Law. Similar bills have also been introduced in New York and Oregon.   

    Pushing for national reform on issues like police and prosecutorial accountability — whether in the form of signing petitions, urging local officials to support a bill, or raising awareness through grassroots campaigns — benefits everyone. 

    Support

    The Innocence Project fights for the exoneration of its clients and provides support for exonerees who have spent many years behind bars and may struggle with rebuilding their lives upon their release. The organization’s social work department addresses exonerees’ needs on an individual basis, ranging from locating family numbers to finding housing. 

    One of the Innocence Project’s major efforts involves mandating restitution to freed, innocent individuals for the time they spent imprisoned. This year, for example, the organization helped lead efforts in Montana and Idaho to compensate those who were wrongfully convicted $60,000 and $70,000 respectively for each year of imprisonment. The Innocence Project also pushed both states to award wrongfully convicted people $25,000 for each year spent on parole or probation. 

    Supporting exonerees or backing organizations that provide the necessary resources to underserved populations is a critical role that all allies can play. This support, which can take many forms including fundraising or volunteer work, can go a long way in making criminal justice systems more equitable. 

    Educate

    The work of the Innocence Project’s science and research team largely informs the organization’s reform efforts. Not only does the team push for a science-based evaluation of common forensic techniques and the inclusion of scientific evidence that may have been previously unavailable, it also provides resources on wrongful convictions to researchers and lawyers. 

    In allyship, education is critical as well. Being an effective ally consists of not only taking action but also proactively educating oneself. It is important to note that it is not the responsibility of those who have faced or are facing injustices in the criminal justice systems to educate allies about their experiences — allies should recognize the power they have to undertake that education themselves.

    For those who are looking for a good place to start, consider one of the Innocence Project’s reading lists on wrongful convictions here.

    The post On Juneteenth, Here Are 5 Ways to Be a Better Ally appeared first on Innocence Project.

    This post was originally published on Innocence Project.

  • Kids of Colour and the Northern Police Monitoring Project (NPMP) have launched a petition calling on the Greater Manchester Combined Authority (GMCA) to halt plans to place more police officers in local schools. The No Police in Schools campaign is also calling for the local authority to remove existing school-based police officers (SBPOs).

    Police in Manchester schools

    Kids of Colour and NPMP are calling on GMCA to halt plans to introduce more SBPOs into Manchester schools, and to remove existing officers. This is based on concerns that police in schools will disproportionately impact working class children of colour, “create a climate of hostility and suspicion”, and bring more children into contact with the criminal justice system.

    Speaking to The Canary in February, co-author of Decriminalise the Classroom and NPMP member Dr Laura Connelly said:

    As our No Police In Schools Campaign makes clear, teachers, parents, young people and community members have grave concerns about school-based police officers. Our own community consultation of over 500 people in Greater Manchester shows that SBPOs have a range of negative consequences that are felt most acutely by those from working-class and Black and ethnic minority communities.

    She added:

    We are deeply concerned that police will bring into the school setting the institutional racism and police violence already experienced in over-policed communities. They will foster a culture of low expectations.

    Calling on the local authority to invest in supportive rather than punitive measures, Kids of Colour and NPMP said:

    If GMCA is truly interested in keeping young people safe, instead of investing in police in schools, it should invest in school counsellors, youth workers, teachers, and community infrastructure.

    The UK’s school-to-prison pipeline

    As set out by NEU vice-president Vik Chechi-Ribeiro, the “school-to-prison pipeline” refers to the systematic direction of pupils towards incarceration through educational exclusion and criminalisation. This is a product of harsh disciplinary policies that confront routine school-based behavioural issues with ‘zero tolerance’, and the presence of police, security, and surveillance in schools. This contributes to greater suspensions, expulsions, referrals to law enforcement, and arrests for violations of school rules. The presence of police in schools disproportionately impacts working-class pupils from Black and ethnic minority backgrounds, groups which already experience over-policing.

    Police in schools is a growing issue nationwide. More than 650 police officers are working in British schools, with many assigned to sites in areas of high deprivation. We have seen the devastating and disproportionate impact of police in US schools on Children of Colour, particularly those with disabilities. In spite of fears that police in schools will criminalise vulnerable pupils, authorities increased the number of police working in London schools by 19% between 2016/17 and 2019/20. In February, London mayor Sadiq Khan suggested further funding for SBPOs.

    Responding to this, Connelly said:

    The additional funding would be better invested in mental health support in schools, counsellors, teaching and support staff, and community infrastructure. It is this investment, rather than more policing, that will help to keep our young people safe.

    Towards an education system that supports pupils

    Police in schools will not solve the complex issues that impact young people’s lives. In most cases, they will exacerbate them. Schools and communities need solutions that actively challenge the root causes and consequences of social problems. As Kids of Colour and NPMP have highlighted, “young people need support, not suspicion”. This begins with investment in communities, and in education, youth, social, and mental health services. The coalition is calling on supporters to sign and share their petition, and for people to join the No Police in Schools campaign to help build an education system that supports pupils rather than traumatises them.

    Featured image via NeONBRAND/Unsplash

    By Sophia Purdy-Moore

    This post was originally published on The Canary.

  • Members of the national guard stand outside the Hennepin County Government Center

    Policing and militarism are a two-headed monster that protects and upholds the foundation upon which racial capitalism was built — exploitation of the lives of poor Black and Brown people.

    Although much attention has been placed on recent expansions of police militarization, these threads have long been intertwined. For Black Americans, police have always acted as an occupying force within our communities. But during the 1960s, a decade of unprecedented Black radical resistance, the lines between police and military and national defense became even more blurred.

    On December 8, 1969, the SWAT unit of the Los Angeles Police Department raided the Black Panther Party’s headquarters in Los Angeles, California. Four days prior, the Chicago Police Department had violently raided the home of and assassinated Fred Hampton, the chairman and leader of the Illinois chapter of the Black Panther Party, based out of my hometown of Chicago. It is in the legacy and practice of militarism that SWAT teams were created — as a means to decentralize and suppress Black resistance.

    As a Black femme abolitionist and organizer from the west side of Chicago, I fight in the spirit of Fred “Baba” Hampton, in a movement that is built upon the community-based power around which the Panthers mobilized to combat militarism, colonialism and occupation.

    The attack on the Black Panther headquarters in 1969 was one of the first publicly known uses of newly emerging SWAT teams, but they quickly spread. Throughout the past two decades, SWAT units have become more heavily armed and funded and used all too regularly as a tactic of instant response in predominantly Black cities, particularly in response to uprisings. The 1033 Program, created as a part of the 1977 National Defense Authorization Act, allows the Department of Defense to supply local authorities with its military-grade equipment. War weaponry, such as assault rifles, riot gear, grenade launchers and military tanks, is awarded to police departments and used to perpetuate harm against Black and Indigenous people putting their lives on the line to oppose colonization, white supremacy and policing.

    The facts are simple: When masses of Black people mobilize, gangs of police move in, and terrorize.

    Since the start of the 1033 Program, around 10,000 law enforcement agencies have received around $7.4 billion worth of equipment.

    This equipment funds the type of raids that killed Breonna Taylor, it funds teargas being used against Black people in Kenosha and Minneapolis, it funds the batons the Chicago Police Department uses to beat youth in the streets, it funds the water cannons used at Backwater Bridge at Standing Rock. It funds the murder of millions at the hands of policing, war, militarism, colonialism and imperialism. It is a never-ending cycle of violence.

    Given all of this, calls to defund police and end wars are bigger than just targeted demands; they are calls to invest in life, abundance and an abolitionist world in which we don’t depend on the military-industrial complex, the prison-industrial complex or policing to sustain our communities.

    This struggle is very personal to me. I am an abolitionist from a city that spends $4.8 million a day and about $2 billion a year on policing — and a city in which taxpayers spend about $38 million yearly to arm, aid in and fund apartheid, genocide and state-sanctioned violence against Palestinians.

    Militarism is a strategy of using violence to keep people in positions of power in control and to maintain the racial, economic and other social hierarchies that uphold this power.

    $4.8 million a day is the allowance police are given daily to uphold militarism in Chicago.

    Divesting from education, mental health services, violence prevention that addresses the root causes, housing, and all other necessities of life keeps the racial, economic and social hierarchies in place that justify the supposed need for police.

    This is why in this same city the yearly budget for mental health services is around $9.4 million — equal to less than two days of the police budget.

    This is why the budget for substance abuse treatment is only 2.6 million — a half-day worth of police budget on any given day. And only $1.5 million is spent yearly in violence prevention — a proactive way to combat violence without the reactionary nature of police.

    This is why in 2013, my elementary school and nearly 50 others — all of which were located on the predominantly Black South and West Sides of the city of Chicago — were closed down in one of the largest public school closures of United States history. The city claimed the closures were due to lack of funding, but four years later, the city proposed spending $95 million to build a police training academy in my neighborhood — where they previously closed schools that they supposedly could not afford to keep open.

    It is why, as a 12-year-old in 2013, I went to community hearings begging then-mayor Rahm Emanuel to keep my elementary school open. It is why five years later, I joined #NoCopAcademy, a youth-led campaign against the city-proposed policy academy — and for a change in notion that community safety is directly tied to policing. And it is why, today, I am organizing around demands to defund police and to get the cops — who are being prioritized for funding above education — out of Chicago Public Schools.

    It is why, as I joined other #NoCopAcademy organizers on the day of the vote over whether to build the police academy, I was beaten in the stairwells of city hall, while Mayor Lori Lightfoot awarded the Chicago Police Department with a new $95 million police school. The violence perpetrated against my being was accompanied by the violence of more resources being poured into state-sanctioned violence.

    It is why my voice was ignored in 2013, and again in 2019 when the cop academy was approved. Now, as I scream Rekia Boyd’s name in the street, chant in her legacy and demand divestment from the institution which was responsible for her death, I am again ignored.

    The 2022 fiscal budget under President Joe Biden requests $753 billion in national security funding. This is a 1.6 percent increase that includes $715 billion for the Department of Defense. In 2016, the military utilized about $610 billion. Just as national defense budgets continue to increase drastically year by year, local police department budgets continue to rise as wars are waged in poor Black communities via hyper-policing, surveillance and police torture.

    Many of my closest comrades from the hood experience trauma from witnessing and experiencing police violence and torture. For nonwhite people — for people who live in hoods flooded by police and abandoned in every other way, and for those of us who watched our sisters and brothers be tortured and targeted by police on a daily basis — conversations about “defund,” “divest” and “abolish” are not new. They are demands, necessities, discussions we’ve been having in our communities for years, and even decades. And for Black Chicagoans, this is about our lives. This violence happens daily. We don’t need another video of Black trauma. We didn’t need to see George Floyd, or Rekia Boyd, or Adam Toledo, or Laquan McDonald or Breonna Taylor be murdered to know policing is violence. We didn’t need to see genocide, war and crisis unfold in Palestine, Yemen or Nigeria to know militarism is violence.

    Police and the military operate under the same practices of militarism. Police move into external communities and occupy. Military forces move into external communities and occupy. The idea that Black and Brown communities need “law and order” and that these institutions implement it alongside safety is flawed. Safety for Black, Brown and Indigenous people doesn’t look like more police. It looks like access and abundance, because when you think about the safest place in the world and the places where you feel most safe, it is very likely that they are places with the most resources and the least police.

    As campaigns to defund and divest from death and to fight for liberation continue, the struggle for an abolitionist world lives on through every chant at an action; every ancestor that shows us the way; every community relationship we build; and all the steps we take to become a global community connected in love, liberation and abundance.

    This post was originally published on Latest – Truthout.

  • Hundreds march while protesting the grand jury decision to not charge the police officers who shot and killed Breonna Taylor, on September 23, 2020, in downtown Los Angeles, California.

    During last year’s uprisings against the ongoing anti-Black violence of police, “defund the police” emerged as the demand and rallying cry. Today, as we mark one year since George Floyd was murdered in the Cup Foods parking lot in Minneapolis by police, abolitionist organizers are still issuing that call, waging fights to defund police and invest in their communities — and experimenting with more holistic ways to keep communities safe.

    In the past year, defund police campaigns have seen material wins, gained traction and grown in numbers. As Interrupting Criminalization’s recent report The Demand is Still Defund breaks down, over $840 million dollars were cut from local police departments and $160 million of community investments were won by defund police organizers across the country in 2020. These wins include: the first cut to the Minneapolis Police Department’s budget in 20 years, a 20 percent reduction in the Seattle Police Department’s budget, a budget cut and hiring freeze for the Salt Lake City Police Department, the passage of a Los Angeles County ballot measure requiring 10 percent of unrestricted county funds to be reinvested into community programs and not police, and many more.

    In Durham, North Carolina, the city’s Community Safety and Wellness Task Force had its first official meeting in April and is planning how to allocate the city’s $1 million commitment toward alternatives to police. This task force was won in 2019 through the organizing of the Durham Beyond Policing coalition (DBP), which initially formed in protest against Durham’s plans to construct a new $71 million police headquarters in 2016. DBP organizer Manju Rajendran, who sits on the new task force, explained: “It would be a failure to use that space to perpetuate the same mistakes where we try to gently bend policing to make it friendlier. We are proposing something that has not been done yet, which is dismantle the policing and prison systems.”

    The sentiment that we have a responsibility to create transformative solutions beyond minor reforms sums up a guiding principle behind abolitionist and defund police organizing. Defund organizers like Rajendran are clear that police killings will not end without taking resources away from the police because power is the heart of the problem. Police have too much power and Black and other marginalized communities have too little.

    Interrupting Criminalization’s report affirms the wins of the movement in the short period of the last year, but warns against taking all police budget cuts at face value. The 50 largest cities in the U.S. cut 2021 police budgets by 5.2 percent in total, but many in the context of across-the-board cuts to city budgets. In other places, money was “cut” but then still ultimately given to police in another way. In Dallas, for example, where protests lasted daily for over 120 days last year through the hot summer, $7 million was cut from the police overtime budget but police were then given a similar amount to what had been cut to buy “non-lethal weapons” — a category that includes pepper spray, batons and tasers, which have actually been used by police to kill and severely injure, like in the police killing of Dominique “Damo” Franklin who was fatally tased by a Chicago police officer in 2014.

    “Defund the police” has always been shorthand for a two-part demand: It is just as much about investing in thriving communities as it is about divesting from policing. Organizers of the local In Defense of Black Lives Dallas coalition surveyed hundreds of Dallas residents last year to create a People’s Budget in favor of cutting Dallas Police Department’s budget by $200 million and reinvesting in community care. Their current demands include funding for a non-police violence prevention office, mental health programs, emergency housing, economic development, recovery for the impacts of the pandemic and the unprecedented winter storm that hit the U.S. South this year, as well as decriminalization of poverty. The summer before George Floyd was murdered, an influx of state troopers was deployed to Dallas to address community violence, resulting in daily police harassment of local residents. On top of this, the winter storm resulted in deaths, displacement, economic hardship, damage to people’s homes and exorbitant debts to exploitative gas companies. In Defense of Black Lives Dallas’s platform is about defunding police in order to offer real solutions that get at the roots of interconnected problems of policing, structural violence and community violence. Mercedes Fulbright of In Defense of Black Lives explains that the coalition wants to “focus more on the affirmative, liberatory vision” in this year’s efforts.

    Regardless of indications of growing public support for reallocating funds from police at least in certain places, many decision-makers, including many self-proclaimed “progressives” have been hostile targets for defund organizing. In Chicago, where there is a robust movement behind demands to defund police, the city’s official 2020 budget survey filled out by tens of thousands of residents showed that 87 percent of Chicagoans favored reallocating police funds toward other programs. Mayor Lori Lightfoot, however, has rooted herself firmly in opposition, not only claiming that she would never defund the police, but actually giving the Chicago Police Department (CPD) hundreds of millions of Chicago’s COVID relief dollars instead of channeling them toward needed programs to support struggling residents. In Atlanta, after the police murder of Rayshard Brooks last June, progressive city council member Antonio Brown proposed reallocating a third of the $218 million police budget toward social services. Hundreds of residents gave public testimony calling for defunding the Atlanta Police Department. The council deliberated for two days, but ultimately struck the proposal down.

    When policy makers oppose defunding the police, one of the most common arguments they use is the idea that we need police in order to address crime, harm and violence. The reality is, however, that the “solutions” we get by funding police are not really solutions at all. For example, many local police departments contract with ShotSpotter, a gunshot detection technology which is advertised as a tool for addressing gun violence. However, not only is ShotSpotter ineffective in doing what it claims to do, it adds to the problem of gun violence. According to the MacArthur Justice Center, “the ShotSpotter system sends police on thousands of unfounded and high-intensity deployments, which are focused almost exclusively in Black and Latinx communities.” Eighty-six percent of the time an armed officer is deployed by ShotSpotter, no crime is reported at all. The least violent outcome of a program like ShotSpotter is that public dollars pay an officer to attend to a false alarm and a private company’s profits. The more violent outcome is that someone gets killed, like 13-year-old Adam Toledo, who was killed by a police officer in Chicago’s Little Village neighborhood after ShotSpotter detected shots and officers pursued Toledo with guns drawn.

    Despite some narratives, those of us advocating for abolitionist approaches including defunding police are actually deeply concerned with violence and addressing the root causes of both structural and interpersonal violence with thoughtful, holistic and transformative change. We simply cannot afford to continue resourcing a system that so consistently kills our people.

    Given that many policy makers remain committed to this deadly system, one important piece of the work of visionary movements is pushing those unwilling to meet movement demands out of power. Black organizers in St. Louis recently celebrated creating the conditions in which the incumbent mayor decided not to run for reelection, making way for young, Black progressive Tishaura Jones to win and pass a budget amendment to defund St Louis Metropolitan Police Department by $4 million in her first days in office. Other examples of this work include campaigns like Chicago’s #ByeAnita campaign which helped oust State’s Attorney Anita Alvarez in 2016, and the less successful #StopLightfoot campaign that intervened in the campaign of current Chicago Mayor Lori Lightfoot. Other campaigns are creating political consequences for progressive politicians outside of campaign cycles. In Chicago during last year’s budget cycle, when city council members flip-flopped on movement demands of communities that helped get more progressive candidates in their seat, those same communities called them out. In the case of formerly DSA-backed Council Member Andre Vasquez, Chicago’s DSA chapter publicly broke ties with him over his vote in favor of a pro-cop austerity budget.

    While policing does remain the status quo, it is not a stable one. The truth is that part of police power is the stronghold they have on our imaginations. This happens through education, media, and the communications and press teams included in the bloated police budgets we want to cut that run smear campaigns of Black victims of police murder. That said, enormous numbers of people have come into the work of imagining safety beyond policing due to movement efforts of the last year and continue to be welcomed into participatory campaigns. “There’s everyday people looking for homes within coalitions like ours,” says Fulbright of In Defense of Black Lives Dallas, describing how more and more people are looking to join abolitionist groups. Opening one another’s eyes to the possibility of a better world in the face of fear and uncertainty is the important work of visionary movements, and the defund police movement has arguably done this work very well in the last year.

    One year ago this week, many of us watched videos of a Minneapolis police station burn to the ground, wondering what would come of the political moment we were in. While there is still no shortage of unfinished business for the abolition movement, hundreds if not thousands of new and old campaigns, organizations and neighborhood crews have advanced fights to defund police in what has felt like the longest year ever. Looking toward the summer of 2021 and beyond, abolitionists are positioned to be engaged in deep community building, making sharp demands, continuing to protest, manifesting concrete wins, and offering a vision for a society with a different set of priorities that can benefit us all.

    This post was originally published on Latest – Truthout.

  • Content warning: this article contains descriptions of police violence that some readers may find distressing

    You may already know that the police are likely to get sweeping new powers to arrest protesters when the Police Bill is passed. But these potential new powers seem to have already given police across the country new confidence. We’re seeing more and more reports of people being attacked by police while on demonstrations, while legal observers monitoring the situation are being increasingly targeted. It seems that the promise of the new bill is all that the police need to give them the green light to increase their violence against demonstrators.

    Reports of police assaults across the country

    Bristol, Manchester, London, and Cambridge have all seen scenes of police violence at protests since March.

    Of course, it was Bristol that made mainstream news headlines when police vans were set on fire by demonstrators during the city’s first Kill The Bill demonstration. But as The Canary reported, it was the police who provoked people by charging at the crowd with batons and dogs. Avon and Somerset police continued to attack Bristol protesters at subsequent demonstrations. More than 60 people reported injuries, including at least 44 incidents of people being attacked by either shields or batons. Indeed, footage showed police officers repeatedly bringing the edges of their shields down onto sitting protesters’ heads.

    In Manchester, footage from one Kill the Bill demonstration on 3 April shows police officers slamming a woman’s head into a police van and then folding her body in half to restrain her as she shouted for help. The woman reported:

    my head was smashed into the van wing-mirror with such force that it was folded back against the van, and I saw bits of black plastic coming off it. I later heard that were was glass on the floor below me. I briefly blacked out at this point, my legs gave way, and I wet myself. I had been pushed and pulled between officers who were mostly male and a lot larger than me.

    Meanwhile, the Network for Police Monitoring (Netpol) reported that another woman was attacked:

    Manchester’s Mayor Andy Burnham has…demanded an explanation from the police after officers dragged a young woman through the city centre with her underwear exposed while arresting her. There have been accusations that the Manchester Tactical Aid Unit is out of control after officers kicked and hit protesters sitting on the floor at another Kill The Bill protest.

    Reports of choking

    Also in Manchester, the city’s riot police are being investigated after choking a young student in what Netpol called a “shocking unprovoked assault”. The student reportedly almost lost consciousness in the attack. He had been leaving a demonstration and shook his head at the police just before he was assaulted.

    And in Cambridge, the Coalition for Vaccine Justice reported that a 17-year-old boy was also choked by police while demonstrating outside AstraZeneca’s offices. The boy had joined a number of protesters to call for the drug company to waiver its patent on its coronavirus vaccine. A witness said:

    I know the look of adrenaline-fuelled anger, and it was all across the face of the police officer just before he lunged at the young man’s throat.

    Targeting legal observers

    Meanwhile, police across the country are targeting legal observers on protests. In Manchester, three legal observers have lodged complaints against the police. According to Netpol:

    [there is] one allegation of sexual assault after a male officer grabbed a female legal observer’s chest.

    In London, four more legal observers were also targeted and arrested at a Kill The Bill demonstration. The legal observers were sent by Black Protest Legal Support (BPLS), an organisation led by Black and Brown lawyers to monitor the policing of protests. Liberty is taking action against the police on behalf of those arrested. BPLS said:

    We are deeply concerned by the Met’s impunity at protests and the sharp impact this has on racialised communities. From Mangrove in 1970, to Black Lives Matter last year, to the police’s harassment of Black activists in recent weeks – the arrests subject to challenge, of predominantly BBRG Legal Observers, are but another example of decades’ worth of racialised policing at protests.

    More power will make them more violent

    When the Police Bill passes through parliament, the police are likely to act with greater violence at demonstrations, safe in the knowledge that the law will protect them. We need to fight right to the end to prevent this Bill from going ahead. Kill The Bill.

    Featured image via Eliza Egret

    By Eliza Egret

    This post was originally published on The Canary.

  • A number of police officers have been issued with fixed-penalty notices after an indoor gathering in Shetland breached coronavirus restrictions.

    Call the cops

    The gathering occurred in a property in Russell Crescent, Lerwick, at around 6.15pm on 14 May while the island was still in Level 3 of Scotland’s measures. Six people were issued with notices and Police Scotland confirmed a number of officers had been among them.

    A spokesperson said:

    Officers were called to a report of a gathering in breach of coronavirus regulations within a property in Russell Crescent, Lerwick, at around 6.15pm on Friday May 14.

    Six people have been issued with fixed-penalty notices and the gathering was dispersed.

    It was not until Monday 17 May that most of Scotland’s islands moved to Level 1, which allows indoor gatherings to take place with up to six people from three households.

    As a result of the incident, superintendent Maggie Pettigrew said:

    The vast majority of people in Shetland have been sticking to the rules to suppress the spread of coronavirus and I would like to thank our community for this. It is extremely disappointing that a small number of police officers were involved in a gathering in breach of the regulations on Friday.

    Their actions undermine the sacrifices you have all made in the last year and I appreciate many of you will be upset about this incident.

    They have been given fixed-penalty notices and reminded of their responsibility to set an example to others.

    By The Canary

    This post was originally published on The Canary.

  • The latest set of hearings of the Undercover Policing Inquiry concluded on 13 May, but victims of police spies have expressed their anger at what is a farcical, excruciatingly slow “cover-up”.

    Beginning six years ago, the inquiry was set up to investigate the actions of police spies since 1968, as well as the units that ordered the officers to spy. Fraught with delays and deliberate obstruction by the police, it’s set to become one of the longest inquiries in British history. Vital police files are being withheld from the victims who were spied upon.

    Towards the end of April, the inquiry announced that the next set of hearings, which will continue to cover the period of 1968-1982, won’t take place until 2022. For the victims who were spied upon in the 2000s, this means it will be 2025 before they give their evidence: a full decade after the inquiry began.

    “Continuing nightmare”

    Canary editor Emily Apple was spied upon by undercover police officer Jason Bishop between 2001 and 2005, while involved in anti-militarist activism. She is one of the inquiry’s many core participants still waiting to receive files from the police which would, potentially, show her exactly what information Bishop gave to his bosses.

    She said that the news of further delays is “deeply traumatic” and argued:

    So far the inquiry only seems to care about the distress the inquiry has caused to undercover cops, not to us, the actual victims of police spying. Not knowing what my files say, or when they will be released is a continuing nightmare. I know it’ll be a traumatic experience to read what the police hold on me, especially relating to the officers who I know were spying on me when my child was young and coming with me to meetings and protests.

    Adding to victims’ trauma

    Apple went on to talk about the massive effect that undercover policing has on a victim’s mental health. She said:

    I already suffer from PTSD as a result of policing. This delay only exacerbates this. I know that I was spied on since at least 2000 by numerous spycops, but it’s going to be at least 2025 – and probably later – that I’ll get to understand why this happened. This will be at least ten years since the inquiry was set up.

    This is disgusting behaviour from the inquiry that totally ignores the trauma that core participants have faced not only since the inquiry started, but since we first learned the depth of the spying operation against us through the work of activists and journalists.

    There are hundreds of victims like Apple, who have become friends with undercover officers. They have trusted them, let them into their homes, and allowed them to spend time with their families. And there are more than thirty women who have been deceived into romantic relationships with undercover cops and systematically abused by the police. The inquiry should by putting these victims first. Yet time and again it shows that protecting the police is its priority.

    Apple went on to say:

    It is us, the people who were spied on who are the victims in this inquiry and we are being treated with utter contempt.

    Release the files immediately

    The inquiry will continue to plod on at snail’s-pace, but not until 2022. We have watched as it continues to protect the anonymity of the undercover police who abused women. And we have seen how it glosses over police corruption. Meanwhile, the evidence that has been heard has shown that the police’s intelligence-gathering is extremely flawed.

    The inquiry has had six years to gather evidence. Apple and other core participants are demanding that their files are immediately released so that they can begin to reclaim their lives. This is the very least the state can do.

    Featured image via Emily Apple

     

    By Eliza Egret

    This post was originally published on The Canary.