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The white cop dragged the black suspect to the bathroom.
He crammed a plunger handle into his rectum. He slammed
it into his mouth, severely enough to break teeth. Meanwhile,
the cop spoke about, of all things, politics. "This
is Giuliani time," the victim remembers the cop saying,
"not Dinkins time."
Like everyone else, I was repulsed by this now widely
known obscene attack on Aug. 9 on a Haitian Immigrant
by New York City police officers, but I can't say I
was totally surprised. The political talk didn't surprise
me either. Over four decades in law enforcement, especially
in my years running an urban department formerly renowned
for its brutality, I came to learn how directly the
message of a mayor or a police chief drives the actions
of cops.
To some, it may seem unfair to tar New York Mayor
Rudolph Giuliani with the comments of an out-of-control,
violent cop. Giuliani never told his cops: Go beat up
suspects.
But he did turn them loose, and he knew the consequences.
Like much of America, New York City has become a more
violent place -- thanks to violent cops, not criminals
on the streets -- because its top politician ushered
in an intimidating atmosphere of "zero tolerance." Of
harassing squeegee guys who clean windshields at highway
exits. Of joining the national crusade to turn law enforcement
into a domestic "war."
Giuliani speaks like a general who wants to wipe out
subhumans -- so it's no surprise his cops behave like
soldiers devouring the enemy.
Rude Rudy is hardly the only official speaking this
way. The political culture of "crackdown" shares the
blame for a wholesale attack on the constitutional rights
of criminal suspects and of just plain everyday people
who happen to live in poor neighborhoods, or black or
Latino neighborhoods, or neighborhoods where drugs are
sold. Stories emerge almost daily of allegations of
unwarranted violence against civilians by agents of
local or national law enforcement.
Police brutality always comes in waves. It's up now
because of the tone our politicians have set in order
to pander to voters' fears about crime and their demands
for short-term drops in crime rates.
All police forces have their adventure-seekers, people
drawn to the work by the lure of violence, of power,
of control over the weak. Leadership can keep those
people largely in check by sending out a message that
such behavior won't be tolerated and by bringing wrongdoers
up on charges.
Or leadership can unleash them.
Most cops are not by nature violent. But like most
people, they want to please the boss to get ahead. They
want to be detectives they want to be sergeants, lieutenants,
captains -- and so they respond to the tone their leader
sets, the expectations set.
Any law enforcement veteran understands that telling
cops to "get tough" means you will exchange people's
civil liberties, their right to humane and respectful
treatment, for short-term declines in crime statistics.
Any prosecutor -- including former prosecutor Giuliani
-- understands that, too.
That approach wins votes in the short term. Over the
long term -- as we now see in New York, as we will see
in Los Angeles -- you lose the support of too many people
in the community.
Yes, some people want the mayors and police chiefs
to keep "them" -- the poor people, homeless, mentally
ill people, drug addicts, blacks and Latinos, gays and
lesbians -- out of their communities. But you can't
wish or bully differences or problems away.
Ultimately, law enforcement that is unlawful can't
succeed. Without the support of the disenfranchised
-- as well as the law-abiding people in troubled areas
trusting the cops enough to cooperate in building strong,
intelligent cases against criminals and in creating
alternatives to crime -- we will all lose. Even criminals
need to trust cops' fairness.
After elections pass, two-thirds of the people we
incarcerate return to the streets. Do we expect them
to act like law-abiding citizens after we have extensively
demonized or dehumanized them?
Giuliani did appoint a commission on brutality in
the wake of the plunger incident, his apologists point
out.
But where was that commission while brutality complaints
piled up like cancerous sores on the body politic over
the last three years?
During Giuliani's first three years in office, 8,315
brutality lawsuits and complaints were filed, compared
with 5,983 during the prior three years. Taxpayers paid
out $70 million in those cases, compared to $48 million
over the previous three years. Those previous three
years were, as the New York City cop reminded his victim,
"Dinkins time" the era of New York's first black mayor,
David Dinkins. Under Dinkins and his chief, Lee Brown,
New York pioneered true community policing. It pushed
cops to get to know communities, to respect even suspects'
humanity, rather than view them as enemies. Until this
embarrassing episode, Giuliani consciously sided with
his officers whenever brutality charges arose. It's
at those times that leaders send their main message
to their officers. It's at those times that officials
must say: Respect people, or lose the badge and gun.