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| Protestors in Brooklyn (Erik McGregor/LightRocket/Getty Images via Vox) |
It is said that after the famous storming of the Bastille prison, King Louis XVI remarked "Why, this is a revolt!" only to be corrected by the Duke de La Rochefoucauld: "No, sire, it is a revolution." While the recent protests in Minneapolis and across the nation have not made that leap, there is some core there that undeniably goes beyond either anger at one police officer or even police department, hope for reformist measures, or desire to simply express dissatisfaction at the prevailing conditions. In this sense, one could say there is a sort of revolutionary spark to them—and in this sense they may differ, in degree if not in kind, from the plentiful other protests that have been seen in the years since 2014.
The pattern should be familiar by now, as it's been seen repeatedly over the past few years—in France, Hong Kong, Chile and now the United States: first, something happens to spark mass outrage and protest (fuel taxes, extradition bill, public transport fares, and now a police murder). Before long, though, the protests have taken on a life of their own, as the practical expression of a kind of collective rage at the pervasive injustice in society. To acknowledge this is in no way to downplay the importance of George Floyd's murder (and that is what it was) or to de-center the issue of police racism and brutality. But there can be little doubt that more than just these issues are motivating many of the protestors, and to dismiss those for whom this holds true as interlopers or "white anarchists" rings false.
Even thinking only in terms of racial issues, the question is hardly what to protest as much as it is what not to. The median black household's wealth is hardly more than one-tenth that of the median white household; the mortality rate for infants born to black women is over twice that for infants born to white, Hispanic, or Asian women; even in the midst of a pandemic that we've been assured does not care about race, social class or any aspect of personal identity, it is clear that black people are being hit disproportionately hard, and make up more than their share of the deaths from COVID-19. Throw in the growing joblessness and social disruption inflicted by the lockdown—and, especially, the government's failure to adequately address these problems—and the only surprising element of the protests is that they didn't materialize earlier.
The general disorder and occasional looting and property destruction have predictably led to accusations that the protests themselves have lost their focus, or that they're being exploited by outside agitators and greedy opportunists. But these accusations miss the reality of the situation. While there will inevitably those who exploit mass unrest for either selfish or sinister purposes, the real reason behind much of the looting and vandalism is a genuine anger—not simply at the police, but at the society that tolerates and reinforces injustice on a daily basis. James Baldwin addressed this point in a 1968 interview with Esquire:
[A "looter" taking a television set] doesn’t really want the TV set. He’s saying screw you. It’s just judgment, by the way, on the value of the TV set. He doesn’t want it. He wants to let you know he’s there...you’re accusing a captive population who has been robbed of everything of looting.
In this respect, the presence of "looting" and property destruction is often far from indicative that a protest has lost touch with its purpose; rather, it reveals the sentiment that's driving the protest goes beyond whatever issue served as a point of ignition, and has become an anger at the whole social structure that manifests itself in everything around the protestors. To simply attribute these acts of law-breaking to interlopers is to refuse to reckon with how deep the anger (rightfully) goes. When regular people become so outraged they react with seemingly gratuitous disobedience and destruction, it says something about the health (or lack thereof) of the society they live in. Acknowledging that normal people might turn to such extreme measures requires us to acknowledge that perhaps society really is so broken they would feel the need to do so.
It is also worth noting that many of the most consequential uprisings in American history were "non-peaceful" in nature. In 1963, after bombings targeting a motel owner and the brother of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., a civil disorder ensued in Birmingham, Alabama in which (per a contemporary New York Times report) "[a]bout 50 persons were injured, including a policeman and a taxicab driver who were stabbed." The uprising additionally "wrecked scores of police and private automobiles and burned six small stores and a two-story apartment house." Rather than serving as a boon to the "law and order" Right as one might expect, the ultimate effect was quite the opposite. Malcolm X described it thusly:
[R]ight at that time Birmingham had exploded, and the Negroes in Birmingham—remember, they also exploded. They began to stab the crackers in the back and bust them up 'side their head—yes, they did. That's when Kennedy sent in the troops, down in Birmingham. So, and right after that, Kennedy got on the television and said "this is a moral issue." That's when he said he was going to put out a civil-rights bill.
Of course, one can still embrace the spirit behind the unrest happening now but argue against looting or property destruction as tactics. This is essentially the same approach as Martin Luther King took in arguing that "riots are socially destructive and self-defeating" but also "the language of the unheard" crying out for justice in an unjust society. But despite the superficial similarity, this is an entirely different approach than either arguing that the protests have "lost their way" or trying to neatly separate the "real" protestors from the supposedly insincere "looters" and "outside agitators." To take a truly King-like approach, one must genuinely understand and endorse the outrage driving this unrest (in all the forms it takes)—and, if rejecting certain tactics, at least propose a genuine alternative. One should also realize that the approach advocated by King himself was, while nonviolent, nonetheless dependent on creating "such a crisis...that a community which has constantly refused to negotiate is forced to confront the issue." Demonstrations that fail to disrupt society—whether violently or nonviolently—simply are not a viable tactic for any revolution.
I should be clear here that when I speak of revolution and a "revolutionary spark" I do not mean the actual overthrow of the United States government, or any government—a goal that probably few of the protestors would endorse. I mean it in the broader sense, defined by George Orwell as "a fundamental shift of power," one that "is not primarily a question of change of government" because "if we alter
our structure from below we shall get the government we need." It is no secret that, while we are all (for the most part) equal on paper, there are gross inequalities not just of wealth but of power in society. Any serious person understands that someone like George Floyd was never on anything resembling equal footing with a Bill Gates or Jeff Bezos, or even with a comfortably middle-class white person. It is this fundamental imbalance of power that has to be dealt with—and to do so would demand a truly revolutionary effort.
Of course, the "revolutionary spark" that exists in the recent unrest is only the genuine desire of the participants to effect that change, and their willingness to take action in order to do so; by no means does its existence ensure that the protests will have their intended effect. What comes out of them in the end is anyone's guess, though any attempts to draw conclusions from historical parallels are overly hasty. For now, the protests serve not only as inspiring acts of rebellion (if not always against the law, certainly against the larger unjust social order), but also to reveal the truth about police forces across the country as they respond with shocking acts of violence and escalation. All that can be done is to support the protestors through whatever means are available, and to oppose the police response—as well as the still more disturbing possibility of the military being deployed to quell the nationwide unrest. The moment we are at now could ultimately prove to be a turning point—but whether that turn is toward a better society or a repressive police state remains to be seen.
