The Worst Policing Crisis You Haven't Heard Of

It is not easy to find out what is happening in Ferguson at the moment, because journalists are being effectively blocked by the police. But this morning's Washington Post yielded Wesley Lowery's story of his arrest. Lowery was sitting at a local McDonald's, answering questions and tweeting from the convenience of an indoor location with wifi, when police officers came, demanded to see his ID, and arrested him. Here's some of what happened next:

An officer with a large weapon came up to me and said, “Stop recording.”
I said, “Officer, do I not have the right to record you?”
He backed off but told me to hurry up. So I gathered my notebook and pens with one hand while recording him with the other hand.
As I exited, I saw Ryan to my left, having a similar argument with two officers. I recorded him, too, and that angered the officer. As I made my way toward the door, the officers gave me conflicting information.
One instructed me to exit to my left. As I turned left, another officer emerged, blocking my path.
“Go another way,” he said.
As I turned, my backpack, which was slung over one shoulder, began to slip. I said, “Officers, let me just gather my bag.” As I did, one of them said, “Okay, let’s take him.”
Multiple officers grabbed me. I tried to turn my back to them to assist them in arresting me. I dropped the things from my hands.
“My hands are behind my back,” I said. “I’m not resisting. I’m not resisting.” At which point one officer said: “You’re resisting. Stop resisting.”
That was when I was most afraid — more afraid than of the tear gas and rubber bullets.
As they took me into custody, the officers slammed me into a soda machine, at one point setting off the Coke dispenser. They put plastic cuffs on me, then they led me out the door.
I could see Ryan still talking to an officer. I said: “Ryan, tweet that they’re arresting me, tweet that they’re arresting me.”
He didn’t have an opportunity, because he was arrested as well.
The officers led us outside to a police van. Inside, there was a large man sitting on the floor between the two benches. He began screaming: “I can’t breathe! Call a paramedic! Call a paramedic!”
Ryan and I asked the officers if they intended to help the man. They said he was fine. The screaming went on for the 10 to 15 minutes we stood outside the van.
“I’m going to die!” he screamed. “I’m going to die! I can’t breathe! I’m going to die!”
Eventually a police car arrived. A woman — with a collar identifying her as a member of the clergy — sat in the back. Ryan and I crammed in next to her, and we took the three-minute ride to the Ferguson Police Department. The woman sang hymns throughout the ride.
During this time, we asked the officers for badge numbers. We asked to speak to a supervising officer. We asked why we were being detained. We were told: trespassing in a McDonald’s.
“I hope you’re happy with yourself,” one officer told me. And I responded: “This story’s going to get out there. It’s going to be on the front page of The Washington Post tomorrow.”
And he said, “Yeah, well, you’re going to be in my jail cell tonight.”

Ken Muir's 1979 book Police: Streetcorner Politicians tried to make sense of the discretion and perceptions involved in on-site policing. One memorable feature of the book is Muir's classification of police officers on a two-variable grid: how comfortable they feel with the use of force ("morality of coercion") and their general outlook on human nature (tragic/cynical perspective). Muir seems to suggest that the professional is the best of the four, but finds examples, in his interviews, of all four types.

If we can apply this grid not only to individual police officers, but also to police forces and/or situations of policing, it seems to me that the circumstances in Ferguson are revealing--or shaping--a cadre of enforcers. Through the eyes of a cynical cop with an integrated "morality of coercion", a journalist sitting in a fast-food joint is a suspect; a sick or injured man is malingering; a person adjusting his backpack is resisting arrest. This oppositional perspective is mirrored by the community (there's a history there, rich with terrible race relations--not unlike in Oakland); I heard a local artist and activist describing the scene on KPFA, explicitly saying "they're trying to kill us."

This blog addresses policing and the community, focusing primarily on the San Francisco Bay Area. I hope to cover community strategies, policing innovations, race and class problems, private policing, militarization, and other issues pertaining to law enforcement and social control at the front end of the criminal process.