and its drug users, but 74 percent of those imprisoned for drug offenses.110 The drug war was accompanied by a rise in the militarization of police forces throughout the country, altering their character, in Kenneth Nunn’s terms, “from law enforcement agencies to military occupation forces.”111 All of these dynamics have intensified in the “war on terror” generally associated with the attacks of September 11, 2001, but more accurately traced, at least domestically, to draconian legislation passed in the 1990s during the administration of President Bill Clinton.112 Counterterrorism provides the backdrop for the “Countering Violent Extremism” or CVE policing programs initiated in predominantly Muslim communities by President Obama, and for the current targeting of “Black Identity Extremists” by the FBI.113
Trump’s first attorney general, Jeff Sessions, was an Alabama senator who had been nominated but not confirmed as a federal judge in the 1980s, apparently because of racist statements he had made.114 Evincing a complete disregard for the crisis of mass incarceration, Sessions instructed federal prosecutors to “charge and pursue the most serious, readily provable offense,” describing this as a “core principle” of DOJ policy.115 Trump has reversed the promises of the post-Ferguson Obama administration to demilitarize local policing, with the result that “police departments will now have access to military surplus equipment typically used in warfare, including grenade launchers, armored vehicles and bayonets.”116
Thus, over the past half century, crime, drugs, and terrorism have been invoked consistently to dramatically expand governmental power, militarize policing, eviscerate constitutional rights, and significantly curtail the rights of immigrants. In the meantime, people of color have been particularly hard-hit by the deindustrialization of the American economy and by the attendant shift from relatively stable manufacturing jobs to low-wage, part-time service sector employment.117 Welfare “reform” has virtually eliminated any safety net, with the result that—to give just one example—in 2011, six million Americans had no income besides food stamps.118 While these rollbacks have had a disproportionate impact on people of color, Peter Edelman observes that they were instituted with little explicit discussion of such effects because “welfare,” like “crime,” “had become a code word for race.”119
Predictably, more and more people are consumed by the struggle to ensure food, shelter, healthcare, and schooling for their families. Trump’s priorities are reflected in his budget proposals, which have urged cutbacks in healthcare, education, housing, labor, and environmental protections, while proposing expanded funding for law enforcement and the military.120 As summarized by the UN special rapporteur in late 2017, the welfare cuts will “shred crucial dimensions of a safety net that is already full of holes” and “the proposed tax reform package stakes out America’s bid to become the most unequal society in the world.”121
The movements of the long sixties that envisioned liberation and decolonization were thus undermined by (1) multifaceted political repression that was both overt and covert, legal and illegal; (2) the dramatic expansion of criminalization and incarceration, accompanied by increasingly militarized policing; and (3) massive cutbacks in social welfare programs that forced most poor people to devote their energies to survival. These dynamics, still at work in American society today, combine to reinforce a regime of “structural violence” that outstrips the more overt uses of armed force.122
When the nature of oppression is apparent, many individuals are willing to define themselves in opposition to systemic subjugation, as illustrated by the mobilizations against American apartheid.123 But resistance becomes much more complicated when the institutional dynamics are so deeply rooted that they seem to perpetuate themselves without any obvious discriminatory intent. When that happens, it is easy to believe that we—or those closest to us—are the primary source of our own problems.124 Considered in the broader context of structural violence, it is not difficult to understand why the energy fueling the movements of the 1960s dissipated or why it has taken so long for mass mobilizations to resurface.
Moving Forward
What will it take to actually dismantle the racial hierarchy in evidence throughout American society? It has been 150 years since Congress amended the Constitution to guarantee all persons equal protection under law, and a half century since the Civil Rights and Voting Rights Acts were passed. In the interim we have had Democratic and Republican administrations, and our first Black president. The rhetoric of race has shifted considerably over this period, but de facto segregation, disproportionate incarceration rates, and racial disparities in wealth and income, as well as in access to healthcare, housing, and education, persist. State actors are taking full advantage of the newly expanded opportunities to restrict social welfare programs; to roll back protections against discrimination on the basis of race, gender, sexuality, religion, national origin, or immigration status; to minimize the exercise of Indigenous rights; and to assign natural resources to corporations. As a result, we have every reason to expect that racial disparities will continue to grow.
A lot of people have taken to the streets since Donald Trump’s election. In most cases, however, it is not evident that they have plans for constructive engagement that go beyond expressing their dissatisfaction with particular governmental actions, actors, or policies. We find ourselves in an era of renewed energy and activism, but we also face intensified versions of all the factors that neutralized the movements of the 1960s and 1970s: the rollbacks of programs supporting access to basic social goods and services, a general expansion of police power, and intensified political repression in the form of counterinsurgency as well as counterintelligence operations. In response to the growing number of protest actions, federal, state, and local officials are seeking heightened criminal penalties for protesters and criminalizing many forms of resistance.
Thus, for example, in Washington, DC, in January 2017, following massive inauguration protests, more than two hundred protesters faced riot-related charges that could have resulted in up to eighty years’ imprisonment.125 Ultimately most of the charges were dropped, but the government had served notice that virtually any form of political protest will, henceforth, trigger a draconian response.126 Even before Trump became president, many state legislators were targeting those who contest oil pipelines or protest police killings. According to the Intercept, as of January 2017, legislation had been introduced that “would allow motorists to run over and kill any protester obstructing a highway as long as a driver does so accidentally,” “allow prosecutors to seek a full year of jail time for protesters blocking a highway,” “reclassify as a felony civil disobedience protests that are deemed ‘economic terrorism,’” and “make it easier for businesses to sue individual protestors for their actions.”127 State legislatures have considered making protesters pay for policing, and debated “Blue Lives Matter” bills that characterize attacks on law enforcement as hate crimes.128 While most of these proposals have not yet been passed, it is clear that the personal risks associated with political engagement are increasing.
Can creative and energized responses to political, economic, and sociocultural repression be maintained under these conditions? What is needed for popular activism to transform not just the discourse about race and social justice but the structures that perpetuate inequality? What kinds of options, legal and political, might truly be effective? For most of the past half century, we have relied on the Constitution’s guarantees of due process and equal protection to rectify racial injustices. But this strategy has proven inadequate, for it does not address the underlying dynamics of power.129 To effectively challenge the institutionalization of racial hierarchy, violence, and exploitation in this country, we will need strategies grounded in conceptual frameworks capable of explaining the underlying functions of racialization and the mechanisms through which race-based privilege and subordination are created and maintained.
A first step toward developing such frameworks involves overcoming the “false consciousness” under which we have been operating.130 If, as Dorothy Roberts observed, this system “brilliantly serves its intended purposes,”131 meaningful change will require forgoing the comfort of a narrative that promises constant
