This is a paper I wrote for my program in an attempt to reconcile my internal tension around interactions with the police ... I welcome thoughts and feedback! “ACAB”: Police, Protesting for Eco Social Justice, and Peace The stand off over Wet’suwet’en territory captured the attention of the country this winter. Indigenous land defenders stood up in support of Hereditary Chiefs’ objection to the Coastal Gaslink Pipeline being built through their unceded territory. Across the country, police forces played a role in this standoff, including RCMP occupation of land in so-called British Columbia, OPP disruption of the Tyendinaga rail blockade, and the Toronto Police blocked access to and ultimately removed land defenders from the CP rail line. As a white, female activist with Extinction Rebellion (XR), I stood in solidarity with land defenders at the Toronto blockade, and found myself nose to nose with a Toronto police officer as we both held our lines, unsure of how to engage with him. I have positively interacted with police during other nonviolent direct actions, I have friends who are police officers, and I do not have any animosity toward police officers as individuals. However, the relationship between Black, Indigenous and People of Colour (BIPOC) protesters and police is more fraught, given a long and complex history of colonization, abuse, mistrust, and violence. It is not uncommon to hear people express the firmly held opinion that “all cops are bad” (ACAB). This paper will explore the roles that police and protesters take in the current struggles over land rights and environmental destruction in so-called Canada. From this foundation, I hope to clarify how white-settler protesters can interact with police during nonviolent direct actions. The History of Police, BIPOC, and Trust Police forces have always been used to colonize what is now known as Canada, and to enable the genocide of its Indigenous peoples (Bell and Schreiner, 2018). According to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police force’s (RCMP) own website, the force was “born out of a need for a national police force to implement the law in Canada's newly acquired western territories” (History of the RCMP, 2020). These territories were largely acquired or stolen from Indigenous nations through trickery, force, deception and coercion (Lewis, 2015). As Barker succinctly states, “Canada is a settler colonial state, whose sovereignty and political economy is premised on the dispossession of Indigenous peoples and exploitation of their land base” (Barker, 2014). The “law” that the RCMP was created to implement was colonial/imperial law that had no acknowledgement or respect for traditional Indigenous systems that had governed the land for thousands of years (Gunn, 2007). The RCMP played a pivotal role in abducting Indigenous children from their homes and families to send to Residential Schools (Figure 1), the first step in a long line of genocidal actions enabled by settler-colonial police, including apprehending children into foster care, the confinement of Indigenous people to reserves, the lack of action on Murdered and Missing Indigenous Women, and the disproportionate incarceration of Indigenous people in this country (Nettelbeck & Smandych, 2010; MacDonald, 2015). Police forces built on the foundation of white settler-colonial culture have played a significant role in the oppression of Black, Asian and other People of Colour since the time of European settlement of Turtle Island (Mullings, Morgan and Quelleng, 2016). Institutional trust is developed based on an individual’s personal experience with an institution such as the police (Kong, 2012); it is also informed by one’s family and culture (Wray-Lake & Flanagan, 2012). It is logical that individuals and communities disproportionately affected by police violence and an unjust judicial system will be more likely to experience hatred toward officers (Abuelaish & Arya, 2017). It is understandable that members of that community would mistrust police forces, and resist any cooperation with individuals representing that institution (Weitzer & Tuch, 2004). It has been said that “police officers are the first level of racial gazing and their role as gatekeepers is simply to preserve and enforce white social norms” (Mullings, 2015). These individuals are seen as voluntarily choosing to represent an institution built on and designed to perpetuate systems of white supremacy, genocide and violent colonialism (Weitzer & Tuch, 2004; Mullings, Morgan and Quelleng, 2016; Shefmaan, 2020). As a result, many activists not only avoid extending any courtesy towards police officers, but actively express anger and hate towards them. Incivility toward the police may be a conscious form of dissent, an active refusal to respect representations of an oppressive authority (Edyvane, 2020; Snipes, Maguire & Tyler, 2019). Trust between members of a movement is also critical to build resilience and predict success (Chenoweth, Perkoski & Kang, 2017). Indigenous land defenders are constantly in a position to reassert their power and claim to their land and culture (Barker, 2009). By following their lead of “bucking” the system and refusing to extend civility to enforcers of the colonial state , a white-settler can express solidarity (Norman, 2017; Shelby, 2018). Police as Players in Nonviolent Direct Action Police have always played a key role in managing dissent and direct actions against oppressive regimes (Legrande, 1967). The permission or tolerance of protest, and the right to dissent is critical in a democratic society (Richards, 2017). Policing literature has explored ways in which officers and forces can more effectively fulfill their duty to simultaneously protect the safety of the public and the rights of the activists (D’Addario, 2006), although abhorrent actions of police officers have been well documented (Snipes, Maguire & Tyler, 2019; D’Addario, 2006). Police can be used as enablers (intentional or not) of direct actions. Not only are police dispatched to do crowd control during sanctioned marches for which permits have been obtained, they also have a presence at non-permitted demonstrations in a way that may appear to be enabling. Extinction Rebellion held a dramatic action that culminated with a die-in in the center of Kensington Market; police officers on bicycles were fully informed of the plan, and shut down the streets of the market to protect activists from vehicular traffic. Escalating actions to the point of arrest uses police to the advantage of the movement in the way of publicity, with the potential of building its base. Because of the predictable escalation of nonviolent arrestable actions, having a positive interaction with the police on the scene may extend the duration of the disruption. When the arrests ultimately occur, they are playing their part in a deliberately orchestrated action. A white person being deliberately arrested for mischief in Toronto is unlikely to experience violence at the hands of an officer. Individuals who are choosing to be arrested (typically these folks are pre-determined) have support from the movement in the form of legal aid, solidarity and advocacy. Often these are folks who do not have an existing criminal record - except for other arrests associated with activism - and have the privilege (typically unearned) of having the financial and social capital which enables them to mitigate judicial consequences. A BIPOC person, on the other hand, is far more likely to be mistreated and suffer harm during arrest or holding, lack access to effective legal support, have a precarious job or living situation, and is more likely to be convicted and incarcerated ((Mullings, Morgan and Quelleng, 2016; Betasamosake Simpson, 2016). Understandably then, BIPOC folks (and their allies) object to being part of arrestable actions as a tactic of resistance, and are more likely to ascribe to the adage that “all cops are b*” (ACAB, n.d.). Police, Protest and the “Rule of Law” Police are mandated to enforce the “rule of law”. However, the interpretation of “law” changes dramatically from different points of view. When laws are perceived by an individual or community as unjust, thus promoting dissent and nonviolent civil disobedience, tension is created for police and others that are responsible for the enforcement of the dominant legal system (Legrande, 1967). Indigenous law - not only on Turtle Island but around the world - has very different structures and mechanisms than does the system that evolved from the European, democratic tradition (Betasamosake Simpson, 2016; Sharma & Wright, 2008; Gunn, 2007). For a people that self governed for millenia, being subjected to the settler-colonial “rule of law” creates a logical tension and discord between them and the individuals who are required to impose that system (Shefman, 2020; Norman, 2017). The United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP) stipulates that Indigenous peoples have the right to self determination, and should be subject to their own laws on their own land (UNDRIP, n.d.). Police systems directly oppose Inidigenous self determination when it enforces laws that benefit the settler-colonial state (Shefman, 2020; Gunn, 2007). There have been a number of cases of primarily Indigenous-led actions in which police response could clearly be seen as less than neutral, and instead reinforcing and furthering the colonial, capitalistic state (Crosby & Monaghan, 2017; Howe & Monaghan, 2018; Proulx, 2014). Police surveillance records have demonstrated that dissent and nonviolent reisstance against capitalistic, extractive, capatalistic systems have been labelled with language such as “extremism” and “terrorism” (Blowe, 2020), which not only indicates the intensity of the concern thaat the establishment has about the possiblity of losing power, but such labelling also stigmatizes BIPOC communities’ efforts to reclaim power and sovreignty (Crosby & Monaghan, 2017; Howe & Monaghan, 2018; Proulx, 2014). Though this is beyond the jurisdiction of the police, legal conditions placed on activists continue to oppress the efforts to seek justice for marginalised communities in the form of restricting completely legal free speech or action in support of the issues against which a protester took action; it has been argued that this infringes upon an individual's Charter Rights, and runs counter to encouraging dissent in a democratic society (Seatter, 2020). The focus of Indigneous actions on tactics that disrupt the economic growth of the Canadian state is inherently decolonial (Crosby & Monaghan, 2017); decolonization requires that the entire system must be dismantled. It has been argued that it is less about sovereignty and who has power over what land, but about redefining social structures and relationships (Sharma & Wright, 2008). Given the dramatic difference between imperial vertical social hierarchies and a more horizontal shared collective typical of Inidgenous communities, the dismantling of authority through communication, non-violence and compassion may be the only way forward. The aggressive resistance to these tactics underscores the unwillingness of the settler-colonial dominant culture to truly engage in meaningful reconciliation. As Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg scholar, writer and artist so eloquently puts it, “‘Justice’ … means the return of land, the regeneration of Indigenous political, educational, and knowledge systems, the rehabilitation of the natural world, and the destruction of white supremacy, capitalism, and heteropatriarchy” (Betasamosake Simpson, 2016). Norman (2017) goes on to say, “Linking self-regulation, self determination, and tribal sovereignty is an important strategy to combat structural racism and environmental and social injustices.” There is a complex dynamic between law and ethics (Moore, 2012). There are many precedents of laws that were utterly immoral, and were subsequently changed (Buchanan, 2001). In North America, the suffragette and civil rights movements are classic examples of legal structures that were changed due to their immorality. Within climate activism - which is inherently interwoven with social justice activism and the organization of Indigenous land defenders (Norman, 2017; Gunn, 2007) - the defence of necessity has been used (Tremblay, 2012). This is an example of the philosophy of nonviolent civil disobedience as a moral obligation in the face of an unjust system (Legrande, 1967; Snipes, Maguire & Tyler, 2019). The Challenges of Nonviolence The World Health Organization defines violence as "the intentional use of physical force or power, threatened or actual, against oneself, another person, or against a group or community, that either results in or has a high likelihood of resulting in injury, death, psychological harm, maldevelopment, or deprivation” (Definition, 2011). John Gaultung (1969) speaks of structural and cultural violence, both of which are alive and well in the country currently known as Canada. The structural and cultural violence of capitalism, colonialism and heteropatriarchy threatens the ability of humans, other species, and ecosystems to meet fundamental needs (Whyte, 2016). Engaging in passive resistance is unlikely success against a systemically violent and unjust system (Ben-Abba, 2016; Meyers, 2000). Even Marshall Rosenberg, who developed the framework for nonviolent communication, argued that in situations where there is imminent danger, protective force may be necessary “to prevent injury or injustice” (Rosenberg, 2015). Land defenders are responding to and attempting to prevent further (and imminent) structural violence, injury and injustice, and arguably protective force may be necessary. Organizers with Extinction Rebellion (and presumably other ostensibly nonviolent movements) have debated what exactly constitutes “violence”. Activists engage in nonviolent civil disobedience workshops where they ponder and defend the nonviolence of various direct action tactics. Violence will always be in the eye of the beholder; Ben-Abba, an Israeli writer and dissident, posits that, “the state can define anything which challenges its power as violent, whether it involves protesters linking arms or consumers calling for boycott, [which has been termed] “economic terrorism” (Ben-Abba, 2016). The tendency of the state to define an action as violent is more likely to evoke attempts at repression in an effort to maintain the status quo (Chenoweth, Perkoski & Kang, 2017). The Challenges of Violence Martin Luther King Jr. (1964) taught that violence would “never bring permanent peace”, and described nonviolence as having six key principles which included the unwillingness to humiliate others, or oppose individuals (vs. “evil itself”). Marshall Rosenberg also recommends that protective force as part of nonviolent communication should never be used “to punish or to cause individuals to suffer, repent, or change.” The mandate of the police is to enforce the laws as they exist in the dominant system; anger towards an unjust system may be displaced when directed toward individual officers. It may also be self-defeating; there is good evidence that when protesters commit to non-violence, there is less likely to be violence on the part of the police, and vice versa (Chenoweth, Perkoski & Kang, 2017; Snipes, Maguire & Tyler, 2019), in line with King’s imagery of violence being a destructive spiral (King, 1964). When movements are coordinated, organized and nonviolent they are more likely to be resilient in the face of state repression (Chenoweth, Perkoski & Kang, 2017). Reconciling the Conflict The purpose of civil disobedience is to resist a powerful system. From its barest essence, force of some sort is required to successfully do this. Nonviolence has been framed as analogous to jiu jitsu, a martial art in which one uses the opposer's (ie. the system’s) force against them (Gregg, 1960). Many modern nonviolent activists model their movements after the philosophies and tactics of King and Mahatmas Gandhi (although adherents to nonviolence tend to forget or ignore that both King and Gandhi’s nonviolent rhetorics were flanked and enabled by more violent actions (Meyers, 2000)). The Montgomery bus boycott (Bleiker, 2000) and many of Gandhi’s tactics have been framed in this way (Misra, 2008) - although, as mentioned above, some have framed these tactics as violence against the state. Being civilly disobedient, however, does not inherently require one to hate. Hate has been described as a contagious disease, one which promotes and perpetuates violence (Abuelaish & Arya, 2017). King cautioned against physical violence, and against “internal violence of spirit.” “The nonviolent resister not only refuses to shoot his opponent but he also refuses to hate him” (King, 1958). King, Rosenberg, the Dalai Lama and other wise ones teach that the world can only be improved through compassion and the fostering of love and peace; the current Dalai Lama has been quoted as saying, “World peace must develop from inner peace. Peace is not just a mere absence of violence. Peace is, I think, the manifestation of human compassion.” In fact, many Indigenous cultures center peace and collective healing in their traditional judicial practices (Betasamosake Simpson, 2016; Gunn, 2007). It is more likely that compassionate approaches as opposed to hate-filled ones will convert representatives of the institution to the cause. During my personal interactions with police and private security guards during actions, most individuals seem to support the spirit and intention of what this movement is trying to accomplish. Some have asked me for more information on our movement, and have put our branded buttons on their gear. I am hopeful that by manifesting kindness and compassion in all interactions, we will be more likely to build the broad base of support necessary for true systemic change and decolonization, a “spiral of reconciliation” (Figure 2). White-settler activists have the opportunity to use their unearned privilege to further the cause of ecosocial justice. This may mean building goodwill with police officers to extend the duration of an action or reduce the risk of violence, or sacrificing their bodies for arrest in the place of BIPOC comrades. In fact, given that the media tends to disproportionately represent BIPOC people with violent and criminal stereotypes (Mullings, Morgan and Quelleng, 2016), offering a white body up for illegal action may help to shift that narrative. However, friendliness with police actions and an emphasis on engaging in arrestable actions has alienated BIPOC folks from Extinction Rebellion due to a perception of “whiteness” and tone-deafness in the movement (Akec, 2019). If making a deliberate decision to lovingly engage with police during nonviolent direct actions, white settlers have a responsibility to build and protect solidarity and trust with BIPOC allies. Marginalized voices and experiences must be centered as Extinction Rebellion disrupts for systemic change (Aarjan & Environmental Justice Bloc, 2019), thus the development of the 4th Demand (Demands, 2020). This is a perfect opportunity to use principles of nonviolent communication as Rosenberg intended to deeply listen, build relationships, and mobilize collectively using the diversity of tactics which are necessary for success (Conway, 2003).
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