by Sosamma Samuel-Burnett, J.D.
Founder/President, G.L.O.B.A.L. Justice
To some, George Floyd was a martyr – a life sacrificed in a long line of racism and racial violence. To others, George Floyd was a victim of police brutality. To still others, George Floyd was a criminal who had a tragic end at the hands of a “bad cop.”
To some, racism is structural and systemic. To others racism is a product of culture and upbringing. To others racism is an isolated issue among a fringe of society.
These are a few examples of diverging statements that have been pervasive in media, on social media, and within many contexts. Although these statements relate to similar situations, they have varying perspectives and outcomes. But they all have one thing in common – they represent narratives that not only state some one’s position on an issue, but also reveal one’s overall position on a range of issues.
Political, social, and economic narratives have become common in our society and especially through the media in many forms. We are conditioned to think a certain way about various sets of issues. That conditioning develops through the news we watch, the books we read, our political and other affiliations, and our social connections. Over time, we choose the information that affirms our positions, creating confirmation bias. That bias then creates a narrative that provides us with a perspective, a lens, and a language that we use to assess and explain most of what is happening around us, regardless of alternate facts or perspectives. Narratives are significantly shaping our conscience, our conversations, and our considerations. And narratives impact the pursuit of justice.
Narratives can place us in a stance where our responses are not only highly subjective but also highly emotional, and even inconsistent. George Floyd has been mourned and honored with murals, words and acts of remembrances, a significant funeral ceremony. However, many other Blacks who were also killed unjustly, such as Ahmaud Arbrey, have not received that same degree of mourning or honor. That is in part because George Floyd’s death at the hands of a police officer is part of a larger narrative about police brutality and racial violence. And his killing has stirred tremendous emotion from those who hold that narrative.
Narratives can be based on some level of truth or fact, but they can also extend past facts. George Floyd was indeed a victim of police violence. That is a fact. But whether he was a martyr is questionable. A martyr typically is one who gives their life willingly for a cause or belief. There is no indication that George Floyd was doing that intentionally. The martyr narrative is also challenging in that George Floyd had been engaged in criminal activity both at the time of his killing and also in his past. Most victims of police violence are not perfect people, and neither was George Floyd. They are often in the midst of a crime or have a criminal background when the violent act occurs. But the issue in this case, or any case of police brutality, is not the character of the victim – as there is rarely a “perfect” victim -- but rather the abuse itself. So the idea of holding up George Floyd as martyr may actually deflect from the actual abuse and what needs to be done about that abuse.
On the other hand, those that hold to the narrative that police in general do not have systemic issues that relate to brutality and racism, but rather the “bad cop” causes the harm, are also missing some of the central facts. While there are many great law enforcement officers in Minneapolis and around the country, there are also segments of far less honorable individuals that find “cover” within law enforcement. Derek Chauvin was not the only officer who has had more than one questionable altercation, and the three other officers that were with him were complicit in aiding George Floyd when Chauvin exerted lethal force. Chauvin’s killing of George Floyd was not a singular act but rather the most recent incident in a series of incidents of police excessive force. Depending on the narratives we hold, we process such facts differently, and with varying outcomes.
Narratives can also extend beyond a particular issue to implicate other issues. The idea that police should be “defunded” or their budgets and responsibilities be significantly reduced is a response that extends the scope of George Floyd’s killing or any act of policy brutality. The narrative that leads people to think that what happened to George Floyd was the result of too much support, funding, or responsibility within law enforcement, takes us away from the issue of police brutality and to the broader issue of the role of law enforcement. By shifting from addressing the focused topic to the broader, we may create greater issues. For example, it may be argued that at this juncture we may need more, not less, support for law enforcement to increase training and counseling to address violent events and compounding issues such anger management and post-traumatic stress. Instead we are positioning law enforcement as community adversaries rather than community allies in times of racial and other unrest.
While major injustices such as racism are very real, narratives circulate and influence how we consider and address racism. For those who hold a narrative that White privilege is pervasive in society and that racism is structurally and systemically inherent in America, the outcomes of that perspective are vastly different than for those who hold a different narrative on race and racism, even if they agree that racism is a major concern. What our narrative is on this issue influences how we see one another and our status within society.
The challenge of certain narratives is that they create labels and that are applied widely rather than narrowly, creating increased biases against racial groups. The reality is that while racism is a considerable concern in America and around the world, most people are not racists. Neither is every White person nor every police officer a racist. However, most people, regardless of race, do have racial and other biases. Being a person of color does not prevent a person from being biased or even racist themselves. But there are far more people of every race – the reported 99% -- who support Black and other people of color than those who cause harm.
And, while America has many institutional and societal concerns related to race, most of our constitutional democratic system is not intended to support racism. Our Constitution, and particularly our Bill of Rights, has been a model of civil and human rights for 233+ years and influenced more than150 other countries constitutions. Our laws, at least on their face, uphold civil rights on a local and national level. And when laws are lacking and/or were unjust, those laws, including our Constitutional provisions, are amended or abolished. In addition, in recent years our government has passed significant civil rights legislation and also ratified the International Convention on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination – the most significant human rights treaty on the issue of race. So to say at this juncture that our governing system is inherently racist may not be accurate in terms of how our system is outlined in these laws and documents.
But, racism still exists in America despite these laws. To understand why there is racism in America, we have to understand not only the current events that spark racial tensions, but also understand the historical and cultural contexts that have led us here. The history of America is rife with racial disparities and discrimination, cultural, systemic, and structural. That does not mean that the American system is fundamentally racist. It does mean, however, that how we have implemented this system and lived within it has often been deeply flawed.
An example of these flaws is the continued implications not only of slavery, but also of what happened after slavery was abolished. In the South, even after slavery had been abolished, Black people were not truly free. The reality was that those around them still treated them with racial contempt even by created unjust laws and practices reflecting that contempt. The situation in the South was so dire that many took great risks to move to the North. But they often only found another form of racism and classism in the industrial areas and urban centers of the North. Ending slavery did not protect these individuals from continued discrimination and disparity in the South nor in the North.
From slavery to the Great Migration Era to the present, race, racial disparities, and racism, have been part of our American society. While our system and laws have had flaws, what is more flawed is what actually drives discrimination and racism in our country -- the political, social, and economic self-interests and cultural biases that create policies and practices in business, education, housing, and other arenas against people of color. These impediments prevented many, particularly Black people in America, from achieving their rights and potentials regardless of the ideals within our system and laws.
But narratives related to our history, can also skew how we see that history and how we apply historical lessons to our present justice concerns. Learning about the limits and flaws of our system and the influence of our self-interests and biases within our nation is important. But understanding those limits and flaws does not negate the many good qualities of America and its people. Narratives that opt to tear down the system and its historical figures based on personal, cultural, or contextual flaws are missing the greater impact of those who have sought freedom, fought for freedom, and ensured freedom. Our “Forefathers and Foremothers” may not resonate with everyone because they were flawed people in flawed contexts, but they still contributed significantly to what we can appreciate about America today. The America they helped create has benefited people of all races and backgrounds, despite the flaws of racism that coincides with those benefits.
While there are parts of our governing system that need reform, tearing down the system as a whole, just like tearing down the statues and representations of it, will not tear down racism. While there may be some representations that are no longer appropriate, tearing down whole elements of American history only galvanizes those who are already racist, and at the same time removes some of the historical reminders that we need to overcome racism within each generation. Instead, what needs to be torn down are stigmas, biases, and cultural perspectives that prevent people of color and many others from fully realizing their constitutional and human rights.
Perhaps the biggest concern around narratives is that they create conflict and deflect us from reaching resolution. Narratives that give us immediately volatile responses to various issues in our society miss the deeper significance of those issues. Issues like racism have had long and deep historical roots and complex present dynamics that we need to learn, comprehend, agree upon, and address together – which takes intention, time, and cooperation. Our energies and our focus should be on resolving the problems, rather than exacerbating the problems. People will always need to express concern, disagreement, anger, grief, etc. and should be free to do so – an important part of the process of resolution. But the more volatile the expression, the less likely they will get to a mind-set and a context for cooperation or resolution.
Racism certainly presents a distinct challenge to seeking justice in the 21st century. But the 21st century also presents much potential for resolution, if we are committed to that end. To get to resolution, we need to start with a shared reality rather than divergent narratives. The most significant question in addressing racism is asking ourselves “what is justice for all?” Resolving racism is ultimately about overcoming conflicting narratives to arrive at a shared truth about justice and a shared commitment to achieving it for all.
