Fracking Ferguson

The tragic death of Michael Brown has, like water injected into the earth’s crust, pushed to the surface energy and power, with consequences both potentially beneficial (dealing with issues long buried and kept dormant) and toxic (increasing violence, rioting, and looting).

It’s so easy to sit in judgment of others, to say what we would have done in a particular situation, even though we’ve never been in that position nor would we want to be. Darren Wilson, the unfortunate officer who fired the fatal shots, has been both lionized and demonized by people who don’t know him or what really happened. Michael Brown, similarly, has been made into either a martyr or a villain who deserved his fate, again by people who didn’t know him or the circumstances.

I find it ironic that so many of those defending Officer Wilson, saying that we should not judge him harshly because none of us know how we would react under those circumstances (I’ve used the same argument) are also quick to abandon it so that they can pass judgment on the way political and police leaders have responded to the resulting crisis, failing to give them the same benefit of the doubt. 

It’s easy to criticize politicians and others tasked with restoring order and investigating the tragedy. Make no mistake, I’m not defending the politicians; that’s an impossible task anymore. But it’s also too easy to say they should be doing something differently. Are they overreaching, not doing enough, too soft, too hard.... Political and police leaders are being criticized all across the spectrum; no matter what they do, or fail to do, they will be criticized. If they make you happy, they will undoubtedly anger someone else. Can we not at least try to give them credit for doing their best, as they see it, in a no-win situation? I freely admit that the older I get, the less certain I become. But I also am more willing to ask myself, “What if I’m wrong?”

If you’re posting or reposting snarky memes, re-tweets of unverified information, videos, verified or not, that purport to “prove” that there is a simple solution or clear cut evidence, etc., you may be part of the problem. You are certainly encouraging the division and polarization that is at the heart of everything and working at cross purposes to even trying to find a solution, if there can even be one. I am hopeful that, given the time to do a thorough job, an investigation will do what it is supposed to do; it may not be able to discover the “truth,” which, like beauty, is often in the mind of the beholder, but perhaps, just perhaps, it could start us on a path of how we as a society can do things better. Not simple, but, ideally, unifying.

Ferguson +

Trying to get a handle on the big picture.

This is America. As we see daily on social media, talk radio, and television, there is no requirement to actually have facts or know what we’re talking about to express an opinion. Facts, real facts, are in short supply, so people on both sides of the equation mutate opinions viewed through their own biased lenses and call them facts. Was Michael Brown a young man on the verge of turning his life around or a punk with a juvenile record? Could he have been both? Where do you stand on the possibility of redemption even if it were the latter? I have no answers to these questions (joining a long list). A young life lost or wasted is always tragic.

Empathy became a dirty word some years ago. Conservatives like Rush Limbaugh mocked the concept. Of course, I think he and his ilk have clearly, and on an almost daily basis,  become eminently mockable themselves. I know John Stewart is grateful for them. I also believe empathy is a crucial attribute if we are to become the society we say we want to be, the society to which we, and our founding documents, aspire. That feeling of empathy cannot be a convenience. It cannot be applied to only one person or group, only for people who look or act like you. Like pregnancy, you either are (empathetic) or you ain’t. (Of course, like empathy, HOW pregnant you are is an ongoing process.)

I’ve known more than a few cops, dedicated and decorated public servants. The SROs I knew at Hancock were good men who cared about the kids (all of them, black and white) and the community. I am proud of the several former students who have taken on the thankless job of law enforcement. It’s not a job I could do, not a job I would want to do. I had enough trouble trying to enforce classroom discipline and hated it when I had to get tough, even out of self-preservation or for the benefit of a larger group, like other kids in the classroom. 

But I absolutely do feel empathy for police officers; I feel even more for their families and loved ones. If you carry a gun as part of your job (not for fun or fear or some misdirected need to demonstrate your rights or masculinity), your job is, by definition, at least potentially dangerous. There are people who will try to do you harm just for doing the job with which you are tasked by society.

Your family, knowing that, will worry about you every minute you’re on the job, and your friends and family will want you to not only be vigilant but to (aggressively?) protect yourself so that you can return home to them safely. That is even easier to empathize with. Hesitating, waiting even a second or two to act, can have fatal consequences, not just for the officer but his/her family. These are human beings making these split-second decisions and their own lives hang in the balance.

But I can empathize, as well, with those who face the consequences of an embattled law-enforcement officer’s (perhaps justifiable) paranoia or instinct for self-preservation. Was there really a threat to the officer’s safety or well-being? Did (s)he over-react, based on that perceived threat? How would we have acted or reacted in those same circumstances. I know only that I do not want to have to find out. However, the answers to those question change nothing for the, I don’t want to use the word “victim” too casually here, person who is on the other side of the equation. 

It is naïve to think that there are no police officers who are overly aggressive. Some are bullies. Some are just not nice people; of course, that is true of every profession and occupation, including my former calling. Some start out that way, others evolve doing a job that requires them to interact, day after day after day, with people who do not respect society, laws, others, even themselves. It is completely understandable that many have developed something of a siege mentality, a feeling that too many in society view them as more of a problem than a solution when they are simply trying to protect and serve some of those same people. That pervasive negative view, and their resulting attitude in response, seems almost inevitable, given the nature and pressures of the job, especially in tougher locales. But let’s be honest with ourselves here, at least a few are closet bigots.

Even I have had to deal with these types, and I’m an old white guy with zero criminal tendencies or even opportunities. As the Ferguson situation erupted and devolved, I couldn’t help but recall a time driving in Dalton, Georgia, as a tourist, confused about which way to turn. I’m sure I was driving a little erratically (not dangerously, there was no one else on the road) when the red lights started flashing behind me. I was treated with courtesy and respect, given directions, and sent on my way. But what if I had been black? Would it have turned out the same way? Pardon my skepticism if I think that’s a legitimate question, and not just in Dalton, Georgia.