People were outraged not only because the policemen's use of deadly force was not justified, but because every stage of the handling of the Diallo case was compromised and undercut by racism. The fact that Diallo had no criminal record -- and was committing no crime -- was found to be irrelevant. The accused cops took full advantage of New York City's 48-hour gag rule, giving officers involved in shootings two full days to coordinate their stories for the district attorneys' office. The Diallo trial was moved from New York City to Albany, to ensure that potential jurors would be more sympathetic with the police. In short, "justice" was thrown out the window, and the killer cops remain at large.

As disturbing as the Diallo case was, an equally serious example of police brutality has received much less publicity, despite its possibly greater political significance. Less than one year ago in Louisville, Kentucky, an 18-year-old black man, Desmond Rudolph, was confronted by two white police officers, Chris Horn and Paul Kinkade, as he was reportedly stealing a sport-utility vehicle. The officers fired twenty-two times. Ten bullets pierced Rudolph's body, with six shots exploding in his head. Several months later, a criminal investigation cleared the policemen.

Rudolph's killing, however, fit a longtime pattern of racial harassment and intimidation experienced by the black community in Louisville for decades. According to State Representative Paul Bather, who represents much of Louisville's black community, there have been nearly 60 misconduct claims filed against Louisville's police department since 1986, amounting to $3.3 million in total damages.

When Louisville Mayor Dave Armstrong was informed that Officers Horn and Kinkade were among a group of officers to be given honors for valor at an annual police award banquet, he demanded answers from Chief of Police Eugene Sherrard. Armstrong subsequently fired Sherrard, announcing publicly that a "culture" inside the department urgently needed to be changed. "This culture only adds to the hostility of minorities, who feel they are treated by the police as second-class citizens, without respect," Armstrong stated.

The incredible response by the Louisville police was reminiscent of the behavior of police in Chile, back in 1973, who actively conspired to overthrow civilian authority. Within minutes of Sherrard's dismissal, hundreds of policemen dropped everything, and drove to Louisville's police headquarters. In protest, nine police commanders promptly resigned their commands. Hundreds of police and their supporters held a mass demonstration at Jefferson Square in central Louisville on 17 March demanding that the mayor resign instead.

Longtime Louisville social-justice activist Anne Braden characterized these events as a sort of "military coup." Braden denounced the response, saying that "If the president fires the chief of staff of the Army, the Army does not march on the White House," USA Today reported.

Maybe not, in ordinary times. But we no longer live in ordinary times. The construction of a vast prison-industrial complex and the enlargement of private security forces throughout the US have created the preconditions for a politically active, ideologically-motivated national police apparatus. Thousands of cops no longer believe that they can leave "justice" to the courts and thousands more doubt the capacity or will of most elected officials to curb street crimes. Thus the executions of Diallo, and hundreds of other black, brown and poor people represent a kind of political statement about how the oppressed should be governed within a capitalist society.

Consider the fact that there are now roughly 600,000 police officers, 350,000 prison guards and 1.5 million private security guards. There are about 30,000 heavily armed, paramilitary "SWAT" (Special Weapons and Tactics) teams currently operating in the US. The police who killed Diallo were members of New York's Street Crimes Unit, which carries out thousands of stop-and-frisk operations throughout the city. Only two months ago, the New York Police Department initiated a new $24 million effort called "Operation Condor," assigning 500 extra plainclothes and uniformed officers to various sting and surveillance operations, especially in poor and minority neighborhoods. It was one of these "undercover" plainclothes police teams that confronted, shot and killed yet another unarmed black man, Patrick Dorismond, on 16 March in New York City.

It is also illuminating -- and disturbing -- to recognize that these widespread examples of deadly police force and the disregard for citizens' constitutional rights is not opposed by a significant number of white Americans. For example, in the wake of Dorismond's killing, New York Mayor Rudolph Giuliani, currently campaigning for a US Senate seat, made callous remarks about the dead man. Giuliani illegally disclosed Dorismond's sealed juvenile records and refused to extend condolences to the deceased's family. All blacks, Latinos and even most whites living in New York City were appalled by Giuliani's racist behavior, yet according to polls, only 28 per cent of upstate New Yorkers and 34 per cent of suburban voters disagreed with Giuliani's handling of this situation. Two-thirds of upstate New Yorkers even said that Giuliani should not have to express remorse to Dorismond's family.

In effect, millions of white middle- and upper-class people have made the cold calculation that a certain level of unjustified killings of blacks, Latinos and poor people is necessary to maintain public order. Yet inevitably this same silent majority will discover, much to its regret, that when police and security forces are given a license to kill, they will not stop at the boundaries of the black community.

Manning Marable is a professor of history and political science and the director of the Institute for Research in African-American Studies at Columbia University.

Copyright 2000 Al-Ahram Weekly

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