Jena And The Son Of Jim Crow
This column was written by Gary Younge.
In the alleyway between de jure and de facto, Jim Crow conceived a son. Even though the deed took place in broad daylight, everybody tried not to notice, and in time some would even try to pretend it hadn't happened. For most of his long life, Jim Crow Sr. had been a powerful and respected man. His word was law, his laws were obeyed and those who transgressed were punished without mercy. But in his dotage these crude and brutal ways became a liability. Finally, and after some protest, he was banished. Some claimed he had died. But nobody found the body.
Junior, meanwhile, was adopted by a local family and raised with all the refinement and courtesy that his father never had. While the father had railed against the changes that ousted him, the son adapted to them. But he cultivated the same allies and pursued the same goals, and in time he too would become powerful and respected. With little use for curse words or ostentatious displays of authority, he was most effective when not drawing attention to himself.
Over the past year the small town of Jena, Louisiana, has vividly established the genealogical link between the two generations of Jim Crow. Paradoxically it has taken the symbolism of the old -- complete with nooses and all-white juries -- for the nation to engage with the substance of the new: the racial inequalities in America's penal and judicial systems. For what is truly shocking about Jena is not that it has happened here but that the most egregious aspects of it are happening all across America every day. Go into any courthouse in any city and you will see it playing out. Like Rodney King, Hurricane Katrina or Sean Bell, it has revealed to the rest of the country what black America already knows. "If the media wasn't watching what was going on then every last one of those kids would be in jail right now," says Tina Jones, the mother of Bryant Purvis, who was there when the recent round of trouble started.
Fittingly for a post-civil rights story, it began with the discrepancy between what you are allowed to do and what you can do. In August last year, Kenneth Purvis asked the principal at Jena High School if he could sit under the "white tree" -- a place in the school courtyard where white students hung out during break. The principal said Purvis could sit where he liked. So the next day he went with his cousin Bryant and stood under the tree. The morning after that three nooses dangled from the tree.
The overwhelmingly white school board judged the nooses a youthful prank and punished the culprits with brief suspensions. Black parents and students were angry, and months of racial tension followed. Police were called to the school several times because of fights between black and white students.
The principal called an assembly at which the local district attorney, Reed Walters, warned, "See this pen? I can end your lives with the stroke of a pen." The black students say he was looking at them when he said it; Walters denies it.
In an unsolved arson case, a wing of the school was burned down. A few days later, Justin Sloan, a white man, attacked black students who tried to go to a white party in town. Sloan was charged with battery and put on probation. A few days after that a white boy pulled a gun on three black students in a convenience store. One of the black students wrestled the gun from him and took it home, only to find himself charged with theft of a firearm, second-degree robbery and disturbing the peace. The white student who produced the gun was not charged.
On December 4, in school, a group of black students attacked a white student, Justin Barker, after they heard him bragging about a racial assault his friend had made. Barker, 17, had a concussion and his eye was swollen shut. He spent a few hours in the hospital and on his release went to a party, where friends described him as "his usual smiling self."
The six black students were arrested and charged with attempted second-degree murder -- a charge that requires the use of a deadly weapon. Walters argued that the sneakers used to kick Barker were indeed deadly weapons. Mychal Bell, 17, became the first of what are now known as the Jena Six to be convicted on reduced charges by an all-white jury, and he faced up to twenty-two years in jail. His black court-appointed attorney called no witnesses and offered no defense. Bell's conviction was overturned by an appeals court, which ruled that he shouldn't have been tried as an adult. At the time of this writing he sits in jail waiting to hear his fate.
These incidents have turned Jena into a national symbol of racial injustice. As such it is both a potent emblem and a convenient whipping boy. Potent because it shines a spotlight on how race and class conspire to deny black people equality before the law. According to the Justice Department, blacks are almost three times as likely as whites to have their cars searched when they are pulled over and more than twice as likely to be arrested. They are more than five times as likely as whites to be sent to jail and are sentenced to 20 percent longer jail time. This would not be a problem for the likes of Kobe Bryant, but in Jena's "quarters" high-powered legal teams are hard to come by.
Convenient because it allows the rest of the nation to dismiss the incidents as the work of Southern redneck backwoodsmen without addressing the systemic national failures it showcases. According to the Sentencing Project, the ten states with the highest discrepancy between black and white incarceration rates include Vermont, Connecticut, Rhode Island and New York and none from the South. What took place in Jena is not aberrant; it's consistent. The details are a local disgrace. The broader themes are a national scandal. Jim Crow Jr. travels well -- unencumbered by historical baggage.
"Jena is America," says Alan Bean, executive director of Friends of Justice, who has been working with the Jena Six. "The new Jim Crow is the criminal justice system and its impact on poor people in general and people of color in particular. We don't always get the exotic trimmings like the nooses."
By Gary Younge
Reprinted with permission from the The Nation
The Nation In the alleyway between de jure and de facto, Jim Crow conceived a son. Even though the deed took place in broad daylight, everybody tried not to notice, and in time some would even try to pretend it hadn't happened. For most of his long life, Jim Crow Sr. had been a powerful and respected man. His word was law, his laws were obeyed and those who transgressed were punished without mercy. But in his dotage these crude and brutal ways became a liability. Finally, and after some protest, he was banished. Some claimed he had died. But nobody found the body.
Junior, meanwhile, was adopted by a local family and raised with all the refinement and courtesy that his father never had. While the father had railed against the changes that ousted him, the son adapted to them. But he cultivated the same allies and pursued the same goals, and in time he too would become powerful and respected. With little use for curse words or ostentatious displays of authority, he was most effective when not drawing attention to himself.
Over the past year the small town of Jena, Louisiana, has vividly established the genealogical link between the two generations of Jim Crow. Paradoxically it has taken the symbolism of the old -- complete with nooses and all-white juries -- for the nation to engage with the substance of the new: the racial inequalities in America's penal and judicial systems. For what is truly shocking about Jena is not that it has happened here but that the most egregious aspects of it are happening all across America every day. Go into any courthouse in any city and you will see it playing out. Like Rodney King, Hurricane Katrina or Sean Bell, it has revealed to the rest of the country what black America already knows. "If the media wasn't watching what was going on then every last one of those kids would be in jail right now," says Tina Jones, the mother of Bryant Purvis, who was there when the recent round of trouble started.
Fittingly for a post-civil rights story, it began with the discrepancy between what you are allowed to do and what you can do. In August last year, Kenneth Purvis asked the principal at Jena High School if he could sit under the "white tree" -- a place in the school courtyard where white students hung out during break. The principal said Purvis could sit where he liked. So the next day he went with his cousin Bryant and stood under the tree. The morning after that three nooses dangled from the tree.
The overwhelmingly white school board judged the nooses a youthful prank and punished the culprits with brief suspensions. Black parents and students were angry, and months of racial tension followed. Police were called to the school several times because of fights between black and white students.
The principal called an assembly at which the local district attorney, Reed Walters, warned, "See this pen? I can end your lives with the stroke of a pen." The black students say he was looking at them when he said it; Walters denies it.
In an unsolved arson case, a wing of the school was burned down. A few days later, Justin Sloan, a white man, attacked black students who tried to go to a white party in town. Sloan was charged with battery and put on probation. A few days after that a white boy pulled a gun on three black students in a convenience store. One of the black students wrestled the gun from him and took it home, only to find himself charged with theft of a firearm, second-degree robbery and disturbing the peace. The white student who produced the gun was not charged.
On December 4, in school, a group of black students attacked a white student, Justin Barker, after they heard him bragging about a racial assault his friend had made. Barker, 17, had a concussion and his eye was swollen shut. He spent a few hours in the hospital and on his release went to a party, where friends described him as "his usual smiling self."
The six black students were arrested and charged with attempted second-degree murder -- a charge that requires the use of a deadly weapon. Walters argued that the sneakers used to kick Barker were indeed deadly weapons. Mychal Bell, 17, became the first of what are now known as the Jena Six to be convicted on reduced charges by an all-white jury, and he faced up to twenty-two years in jail. His black court-appointed attorney called no witnesses and offered no defense. Bell's conviction was overturned by an appeals court, which ruled that he shouldn't have been tried as an adult. At the time of this writing he sits in jail waiting to hear his fate.
These incidents have turned Jena into a national symbol of racial injustice. As such it is both a potent emblem and a convenient whipping boy. Potent because it shines a spotlight on how race and class conspire to deny black people equality before the law. According to the Justice Department, blacks are almost three times as likely as whites to have their cars searched when they are pulled over and more than twice as likely to be arrested. They are more than five times as likely as whites to be sent to jail and are sentenced to 20 percent longer jail time. This would not be a problem for the likes of Kobe Bryant, but in Jena's "quarters" high-powered legal teams are hard to come by.
Convenient because it allows the rest of the nation to dismiss the incidents as the work of Southern redneck backwoodsmen without addressing the systemic national failures it showcases. According to the Sentencing Project, the ten states with the highest discrepancy between black and white incarceration rates include Vermont, Connecticut, Rhode Island and New York and none from the South. What took place in Jena is not aberrant; it's consistent. The details are a local disgrace. The broader themes are a national scandal. Jim Crow Jr. travels well -- unencumbered by historical baggage.
"Jena is America," says Alan Bean, executive director of Friends of Justice, who has been working with the Jena Six. "The new Jim Crow is the criminal justice system and its impact on poor people in general and people of color in particular. We don't always get the exotic trimmings like the nooses."
By Gary Younge
Reprinted with permission from the The Nation
Posted by brianbwb at 01:54 AM : Sep 23, 2007
I am not convinced. It is routinely more difficult to catch the big guys and much effort is done to catch them. remember our invasion of nicaragua to capture manuel noriega or the vast amounts of money we use to help columbia control the drug trade. Also your statement that jobs are kept intentionally low doesn''t pass the smell test. I can''t imagine this nor have I ever heard this from even al sharpton the king of racial exploitation
Posted by alanrobisch2
Weren''t the Bush twins busted for coke a while back? At the time, those around bush effectively quashed any investigation as to how it could get past SS security by calling it a "family matter'', the twins weren''t even reprimanded.
There are large ships outside US territorial waters laden with drugs, small fast speed boats ferry "manageable" amounts to shore. Who owns the boats, "Blacks"? I highly doubt it. Who is in control of the ports where the stuff comes in, "Blacks"? Again, I doubt it. Who controls the police mafia, who are a willing part in the distribution networks in the inner cities, "Blacks"? Nope. Was Oliver North, who imported coke that was sold in LA, as part of Iran-Contra, "Black"? I don''t need to doubt that one, I am sure he isn''t.
Remember the John DeLorean affair? The video showed "white" guys trying to sell coke to him as a sting that failed. What happened to the "white" guys", not to mention the coke? Who supplies the Washington and Hollywood elite? "Black" people aren''t even allowed into those circles. I could fill a book with examples.
"Black" people are on the low end of the drug totem, making money in inner city areas where gainful employment is purposely kept non existent, and wages kept below the cost of living. But we are on the high end of the prison population for this activity.
Posted by brianbwb at 12:46 AM : Sep 22, 2007
harsher punishments for sales of crack came as I understand it from the concern in the black community about the epidemic of crack cocaine use creating stern punishments. this does not seem to me that this proves what the author wants it to prove that blacks are punished with stiffer punishments because they are black.
It proves the not surprising thing that poor blacks are likely to take up selling crack because its a way to get what they want and need more money and status. If this is the differing factor then either we should stiffen the punishment for coke use or lighten the punishment for crack sale. the question would be does this solve the problem of crack addiction.
As far as the big guys getting away as you state, I''d like to see the proof.
I am an artist, not a lawyer, but I was able to search the internet in about 20 minutes and find 2 laws pertaining to this case. From reading Louisiana State Laws La. R.S. 14:225 and La. R.S. 14:107.2, I suppose that Mr. Walters could have charged those students with a hate crime, either as a misdemeanor or a felony. Had he done so, he could have followed the law in the State of Louisiana and taken one step towards racial parity in this instance.
Perhaps, Mr. Walters'' failure to prosecute the original offenders who hung nooses from a tree on school property may be seen as a catalyst for all that has happened in Jena since that first offense. I know, from this article and my own knowledge & experience, that he is not the cause of the racial unrest in this small town in central Louisiana, merely a reflection of the current state of American Justice. However, he is culpable for not performing the job he was sworn to do and for allowing this situation to escalate as it has.
Reed Walters is but one man in the midst of this racially charged situation, but he could have possibly been the one man to change everything had it not been for the legacy of Jim Crow.
Obviously, a burning cross, even in rural Minnesota is a symbol of racism but there are other things that just don%u2019t get looked at that way. Those jerks with the nooses hanging from their trucks at the rally, that was obviously meant to stir up trouble. They knew what they were doing and the book should be thrown at them for inciting trouble. The kids that were beating up others and the gun incident should have gotten more severe punishment.
We should be able to look back at court records and find that an assault is an assault; white on black, black on white, husband/wife, rich/poor, bar room brawls, all need to be treated the same. Instigators as well as perpetrators should not be tolerated where racism is concerned. The system also needs to be fair and color blind. We need to have some checks and balances and if it%u2019s not, we need to replace some officials.