Book Review: Suspicion Nation by Lisa Bloom

If you’re going to read one book about the sad state of race relations in America, you should probably read Michelle Alexander’s The New Jim Crow (I don’t think Lisa Bloom would begrudge me that, since she recommends the book herself). But if you’re going to read two books about race in America - and given the current state of affairs, it certainly couldn’t hurt - you should absolutely pick up a copy of Suspicion Nation by civil rights attorney Lisa Bloom.

The book is an exploration of the new brand of racism in America, tracing its course from something that was blatant and almost a point of pride for some bigots (think George Wallace), to something subtler and, in many ways, just as sinister. Our racial prejudices have become so internalized, so institutionalized, that they are part of daily life and a routine aspect of the criminal justice system. Bloom uses the tragic case of Trayvon Martin to illustrate just how the fears and suspicions we keep (involuntarily, in some cases) in the secret corners of our minds can affect our viewpoints, our judgment, and can be the deciding factor between life and death. George Zimmerman wasn’t acquitted because it was successfully proven that he wasn’t a racist; he was acquitted because his perspective of the world, colored in prejudices he might not even be able to articulate or acknowledge, was shared by his attorneys, the prosecution, and the majority of the jury members who elected not to punish him for Trayvon’s murder.

What Suspicion Nation succeeds at is pinpointing precisely why the Zimmerman verdict feels like a punch in the gut. It’s not just because a murderer escaped justice (that, sadly, happens all the time); it’s that an entirely winnable case was lost due largely to a refusal to address our nation’s race problem. Trayvon Martin was denied justice because it was absurdly easy to persuade the six female jurors that an unarmed seventeen year old constitutes a threat simply based on his race.

In the first half of the book Bloom walks through the case step by step, providing an idiot-proof guide to how this trial ought to have been conducted and the numerous places the prosecution went wrong. She highlights the alternative, more logical approach a better prosecutor might have taken, providing suggestions and analysis that make you wish fervently that she’d been the one in that courtroom advocating for Trayvon, the only person in the case who could not speak for himself.

The sheer number of times the prosecutors dropped the ball is disheartening, to put it mildly. And while Bloom refuses to speculate that this incompetence might have been deliberate, I’m not entirely convinced.  Basic facts were ignored every step of the way, and game-changing arguments that could have turned the tide (and the jury) against Zimmerman were thrown completely out the window. The jury, which ought to have been a carefully selected group of individuals with no prior knowledge of the case, was littered with preconceived notions about not only race and the nature of Florida’s laws, but about Trayvon and Zimmerman themselves.  The state needed only to find six individuals who could go into the trial with the ability to listen impartially to the evidence, and it seems they failed even at that, which may have sunk them long before they were able to selectively and sloppily present the facts of the case.

The logic of dismissing race as a factor is beyond me. Yes, I can understand that intent is difficult to prove in many cases – you can hardly crack open a defendant’s brain and see what they were thinking at the time of the crime—but in this case intent was a crucial part of the case and, Bloom argues, fairly easily proven. The defense claimed, and the jury believed, that all that mattered in the altercation between Trayvon and Zimmerman was “who was on top and who was on the bottom.” This is a factor, to be sure, but then so is the fact that the altercation would not have existed in the first place if Zimmerman hadn’t followed Trayvon, if the teenager hadn’t suspected he was in danger, and if Zimmerman didn’t have a demonstrated history of expressing suspicion toward members of the black community. The prosecution had evidence supporting all this, by the way; they simply failed to use it. As an amateur who has yet to see the inside of a law classroom, even I can see that this was at best negligence, and at worst a determined obfuscation of the facts so the narrative would conform to Zimmerman’s side of the story.

Bloom interjects at several key points to lay out a hypothetical prosecution strategy so simple that a pair of trained monkeys likely could have pulled it off. So why couldn’t the state’s team of prosecutors? While Bloom generously pleads the fifth on a real answer to this query, I have a different one: was it a question of can’t or won’t? It seems only too clear that even the prosecutors ostensibly trying to prove Zimmerman guilty couldn’t completely dismiss the notion that his suspicion of a young black man was reasonable. And that question of reasonableness, Bloom emphasizes, was the key to unlocking the self-defense argument. 

If you’re like me, this book will make you angry. You’ll page through it torn between disbelief and the kind of rage that makes you want to shake someone, perhaps the prosecutors, and tell them to wake up and smell the racial profiling. But after you’ve finished reading, you’ll be haunted by it, by the specter of buried prejudice that exists in every corner of society. The media, the government, your friends and family, even yourself – when it comes down to it none of us is completely innocent of experiencing traces of the ‘suspicion’ Bloom details. The book’s conclusion acknowledges that we have a long road ahead of us when it comes to repairing this damage, but it also ends on a note of hope that we can and will repair the damage we’ve done:

“We can prevent our country from making the same mistake by deciding that the scourges of racial bias and rampant gun violence are intolerable, and that the life of each of our children, every single one, matters and is worthy of our passionate protection” (297).

Let’s hope she’s right.

Required Reading: Rise of the Warrior Cop by Radley Balko

"No, America today isn’t a police state. Far from it. But it would be foolish to wait until it becomes one to get concerned." 

(Rise of the Warrior Cop by Radley Balko, pg. 336)

I don't usually review nonfiction books, particularly ones about topics on which I consider myself such a novice, but the pure dismay and frustration this book has inspired in me has forced me to change my policy, to advocate for this book as required reading for anyone who cares about the country we live in, and the ways which that country has chosen to enforce law, order, and justice.

If you've been watching the coverage of events like Ferguson and wondering why so many in positions of authority seem downright accustomed to seeing cops in full riot gear, armed to the teeth and more than willing to utilize force and other excessive measures, Balko provides the simple yet alarming answer: no one who makes or enforces law is outraged because they are the ones who have allowed police militarization, who have been allowing it for decades.

Balko manages to walk the line between keeping things interesting and anecdote-based, and peppering the stories he tells with cold, hard, well-cited facts. His book doesn't fall victim to what I'll call "documentary syndrome", where about 1/3 of the way in the point gets lost amid some dry analysis; rather, incident after incident is detailed with care, and every step of the legislative process which has made the militarization of America's police forces such a rampant problem weaves in between, painting a picture of gradual corruption for which responsibility is splashed across departments and divisions from the smallest peon town precincts to the men and women of the federal government.

Historical context is provided, from the origins of policing forces in the Roman empire to the founding fathers of the United States and their fear of a standing army within their new nation. This gives way to a discussion of legislation which began largely following the second world war, laws which allowed for never-before-seen powers for police officers including no-knock raids, laws regulating search warrants which have been weak at the best of times, and eventually the birth of the SWAT team in America. Looking at the evolution of police forces from this progressive perspective, it becomes clear that we've been building to events like Ferguson for years. And a surprising amount of otherwise reasonable people have done almost nothing to stop it.

It is unsurprising that Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan were quick to jump onto the militarization band wagon, obsessed as they both were with delivering a victory in the war on drugs (which was essentially just a war on the counter-culture of the sixties loathed by both of them). What seems more astonishing is the fact that liberals Bill Clinton and Barack Obama were and have been just as eager to prop up these laws and even increase police authority in the context of a changing world. Consider that "by the end of his first term, Barack Obama had overseen more federal raids on medical marijuana dispensaries in four years than George W Bush had presided over in eight" (301). Sounds strange, right? Balko also reminds the reader of the startling fact that one of the main proponents of much of the legislation that has done away with civilians' fourth amendment rights in police matters is none other than the man currently one heartbeat away from the presidency, good old Joe Biden. Support for law enforcement's use of excessive measures has managed to become one of just a handful of issues that somehow transcends party lines as well as standing the test of time. As recently as 2011 funding was increased for programs enabling and encouraging the Defense Department to transfer their excess military equipment to police departments across the country, and there does not seem to be an end in sight.

More than anything, though, the theme of aggression in the incidents Balko details is striking, even as the names, dates, and purported offenses begin to stack up. Police officers have come to think of themselves as soldiers, as enforcers of the law against agitators who are "other" to them, men and women with whom they do not feel even a remote sense of camaraderie. They use their suspicions of citizens as part of circular reasoning which allows them to justify violent raids which come without any warning and which often result in property damage and even injury or death to individuals who have not even been charged with a crime. Profiling, heavy reliance on questionably reliable informants, and policies which encourage an "intimidate first, ask questions later" strategy, have created an atmosphere in which people fear the police, and in which they are in legitimate danger of getting on the wrong side of an officer who has literally been trained by military personnel, equipped with gear and weaponry that belong in Fallujah, and who thinks of himself as a warrior first and foremost.

Balko tackles the defenses of the continued support of police militarization with similar efficiency and logic. The war on drugs, of which the majority of these policies have been in service, has not only not been "won," but the small victories that have been claimed have really not been victories at all. Drug usage and peddling are still very much alive in this country, and he cites some sobering statistics illustrating just how far the government and the media have gone to oversell the successes in terms of actual drugs, money, and stolen property recovered, even when the facts themselves just don't line up. The other major defense he cites is the oft-repeated notion that cops are in incredible danger on the job, that our increasingly well-armed public poses a volatile threat to them virtually any time they are out in the community. It's due to this perceived risk that many are in support of their local police donning battle gear and driving armored vehicles, reacting with sometimes lethal force during confrontations with suspects. But the statistics don't support this justification. Shootings of police officers by civilians or suspects, while of course tragic when they occur, just don't take place that often. They've been decreasing nationwide for years, and on the whole police officers are not in much greater danger than the majority of citizens they are tasked with protecting: "In fact, of the seventy-four US cities with populations of 250,000 or more, thirty-six have murder rates higher than that of police in America. You’re more likely to be murdered just by living in these cities than the average American police officer is to be murdered on the job” (271).

Police militarization has become such an ingrained part of our society, and it is a systemic issue that will not be solved overnight. Before any real action can be taken, attitudes must change, and before that, people have to pay attention. We can and should be questioning our law enforcement authorities and the way they comport themselves on the job. We should be calling for greater accountability, including but not limited to cameras on the officers or their vehicles, and a detailed federal database of any and all incidents involving a police officer discharging a weapon against a civilian. That's the least that can be done. The way we look at violence needs to change, too. We have become too accustomed to it; we expect it, especially from the police. And if we allow our expectations to continue to align with the policies currently in place, we will only see more of the same treatment, more of the same mistakes, more of the same violence against potentially innocent people.

It's important to note that this is not a problem to be solved by responding with the same kind of violence and ignorance to which many of these officers have been trained to default. Calling all cops pigs, or antagonizing the local beat cops you see on your walk to work, will not fix what is a corrosive problem that trickles from the top down, and not the other way around. Balko is particularly adamant on this point, including this in the book's conclusion:

"In the Introduction, I noted that this is not an anti-cop book. And it isn’t. Despite all of this, there are still good cops. A lot of them. But we have passed laws and policies that have elevated police officers above the people they serve. As Tim Lynch has written, you could make a good argument that police should be held to a higher standard than regular citizens. And you could make a good argument they should be held to the same standard. But it’s hard to conceive of a convincing argument that they should be held to a lower one. But that’s exactly what we’ve done” (336).

Maybe you think people like Balko and myself are overstating the problem. Maybe you trust the police to do what's in your best interest, despite all the empirical evidence to the contrary, or maybe the possibility of police abuses and brutality is just something you don't like to think much about. But even if that's true, this is a matter of our constitutional rights being bent, manipulated, and at times outright ignored. A quote from a Philadelphia PD spokesperson appears in the book's concluding chapter that sums it up pretty well: "Officers’ safety comes first, and not infringing on people’s rights comes second." Sentiments like that from high-ranking members of law enforcement may not worry you, but if you're paying even a little bit of attention, they really should.