This article is part of U.S. Democracy Day, a nationwide collaborative on Sept. 15, the International Day of Democracy, in which news organizations cover how democracy works and the threats it faces. To learn more, visit usdemocracyday.org. 

Newark- There are two definitions of the word “democracy” that are critical to understanding the core principles that should guide organizers and activists. The first is from the Oxford Languages, which reads that democracy is “the practice or principles of social equality,” and the second is from Webster, which says that democracy is “the absence of hereditary or arbitrary class distinctions or privileges.”

When speaking of “social equality,” it is not a reference to the false social construct of equality, which presumes people should be seeking the ability to achieve the same status and achievements. What is meant is social equality which removes the systemic obstacles that prevent equal access to the material conditions necessary for life. To achieve the latter version, class distinctions and privileges would have to be removed. The reason both definitions of democracy are presented here is because to have a truly democratic society, people must both be treated equally and have access to equal resources. 

There are multiple systems that are antithetical to a democratic society. However, there is only one that removes people, the majority of whom do not hold certain class distinctions or privileges, from society and intentionally prevents access to equal resources while oppressing those who seek said access. This would be the so-called “justice system,” including the prison industrial complex, armed agents of the state, and the legal agents who work to support and maintain the system.

Examining the past and present of policing

In his 2017 book “The End of Policing,” author Alex S. Vitale provides a detailed history of the original police forces. Vitale begins with the London Metropolitan Police, created in 1829 to protect elite industrialists, then walks through the first forces in New York, Chicago, and Pennsylvania, all created to manage workers or prevent strikes. Lastly, Vitale details the slave patrols in the south, which were assembled to deter revolts.

This history clarifies that police forces were created to protect the property of the rich and prevent workers from resisting the oppression of bosses. This is at the core of why the justice system exists, and as such, the system will never result in an equitable distribution of resources nor fair treatment of people outside of the owner/bourgeoisie class. That is the true purpose of the system—to protect property and suppress the will of poor and working people. This purpose manifests in multiple iterations within Black, Brown, poor, and working-class communities.

One significant indicator of the blatant inequality in policing is the high number of armed enforcers present throughout these communities. These agents are typically not members of the community but commute in from “safer” neighborhoods, charged with the task of “reducing and combating” crime. This is despite a lack of evidence that confirms that the presence of armed agents of the state in marginalized communities is, indeed, an actual deterrent to crime. Furthermore, the term “crime” is more often applied to actions taken in response to a lack of resources than actions taken in an effort to hoard wealth or property.

The myth of the necessity of the presence of armed agents is often propagandized by media and entertainment. Difficulty finding evidence of this imbalance led me to conduct my own research. Using Bureau of Justice Statistics and U.S. Census data, I began by determining the U.S. cities and counties with the largest populations and compared them against the cities and counties with the largest amount of sworn police agents in their departments. What I discovered, without fail, is cities/counties with higher populations of Black and Latino residents have significantly more agents present. The comparisons are staggering. 

A comparison of the number of armed agents in United States cities with similar overall populations. (Data compiled by and courtesy of Renee Johnston, sourced from the Bureau of Justice Statistics, the United States Census, and the police department websites and reports linked above.)

Because of these percentages, this overwhelming presence inevitably leads to a higher percentage of incarcerated people from within these communities. Per the Department of Justice, there were 1,204,322 people nationwide incarcerated on sentences of one year or longer in 2021, the most recent year that complete reporting was available. This number did not account for the over 400,000 awaiting trial as recorded by the Prison Policy Initiative. The latest study on pre-incarceration income showed that most of the incarcerated are poor, poor women, Blacks, and Latinos. 

These are the facts: if you live in a Black or Latino community, you are over-policed. If you are economically disadvantaged, you are more likely to be incarcerated. If you are a Black adult in the United States, according to the 2021 Department of Justice documents, you are five times more likely to be incarcerated than a white adult and almost three times more likely if you are a Latino adult. In New Jersey, Black residents make up 15.4 percent of the population, yet they make up 61 percent of the incarcerated. Even more troubling to New Jersey’s communities, Black youths comprise 71 percent of the state’s total incarcerated population. 

The system is rigged against the poorest and already marginalized communities, and it is these communities that lose the most via incarceration. Communities with fewer members have fewer people to provide mutual aid and assistance as well as fulfill community needs. 

A drain on much-needed resources

Another substantial, fundamental problem with the “justice system” is that it replaces physical spaces and critical resources with facilities to support its armed agents and increased incarceration. Newark, a city with well-below-average test scores, is planning to spend $300 million to build a new “public safety training” facility, the first structure of which will be placed on an abandoned school property. Newark has quietly moved forward with these plans while all eyes have been on a similar project in Atlanta, GA. There, city officials have slated over $100 million to destroy acres of Weelaunee Forest, which is land stolen from the Muskogee people, to build a military-grade training facility that will include live-fire urban warfare exercises. 

Elsewhere, Baltimore announced plans to build a new police training facility directly on the grounds of the Coppin State University campus. Coppin State University is a historically Black college or university (HBCU) founded in 1900 as a high school for non-white students, particularly those interested in becoming elementary school teachers. These three urban facilities are examples of the system taking advantage of already under-resourced and/or underpopulated communities where the existing buildings, facilities, and green space would be best utilized by providing education, housing, food, medical care, and other necessities. Instead, these spaces are being earmarked to build training facilities, jails/prisons, and “public safety” centers. 

Compounding each issue is that the decades of “changes” made via police reform, including “more” training and the addition of non-white armed agents of the state, have failed, and the number of police killings continues to increase each year. Data collection website Mapping Police Violence has been tracking police killings for a decade; in just the past four years, the number has risen steadily from 1,150 in 2020 to 1,173 in 2021 to 1,247 in 2022. 

Police funding has also risen over time, although soared might be a better description. Even accounting for inflation, state and local police spending in the U.S. grew by a mind-boggling 189 percent from $45 billion in 1977 to $129 billion in 2020. As all of this happens, communities suffer, and the system continues to build itself with the ultimate goal of oppressing working people and protecting property. These realities, which are unquestionably antithetical to a democratic society, should be and must be addressed on Democracy Day. 

Fighting propaganda with education

As an organizer, I strongly believe in the need for political education to amass a united group capable of taking or creating the steps necessary to improve material conditions. Part of this work must include recognizing the propaganda and state-organized efforts to prevent us from understanding the realities of this system. The concerted effort to propagandize working people to believe the armed agents of the state provide any level of “public safety” must also be countered with education on the actual facts and statistics involving police.

I’m far from alone in my conviction that education holds the key to fighting propaganda. Matthew Solomon is the producer and director of the documentary “Reimagining Safety,” which provides an in-depth look at abolition, policing, and why this movement is crucial to the survival of under-resourced communities. A collection of interviews with a range of people from academics to activists to former law enforcement, the documentary has already earned several film festival laurels. In July 2023, a screening of the documentary, sponsored by the Green Party of New Jersey, Montclair Beyond Policing, the New Jersey Socialist Party, Global Pan-African Congress, North America, and the Rain Cooperative, was held in Montclair, followed by a panel discussion.

I spoke with Solomon about his work and his goals for its usage for abolitionist organizers. He views the film as an informational and educational tool, one that could potentially be added to school curricula. Solomon said that the film was his attempt to fill a gap, specifically regarding abolition. 

“It’s a film that presented both the problems and the alternatives,” Solomon said, “People don’t have time to read a stack of books, and there are books on abolition going back several decades. I hope that the film will be an alternative for those who do not have time to do the reading.”

Political education also informs the work of Kamau Franklin, a former movement attorney based in Atlanta, GA. He is the founder of Community Movement Builders, an organization at the forefront of the #StopCopCity movement against the proposed training facility in the Weelaunee Forest. I had the opportunity to speak with him about his organizing efforts. 

“You can’t really transform or be radical without time spent being politicized through education,” Franklin said, “Political education is a huge part of the work because people do not understand the things they are challenging. Capital and democracy are not just local; they are transnational; people fall for pitfalls without the education part.”

Beyond political education, a secondary path toward a democratic society is for communities to build their own resources. This would include shared positive contributions, mutual aid, assets, and guidance to address the general needs of the community. In providing alternatives to the systems in place, communities can work to remove those forces and obstacles.

Franklin expressed his thoughts about connecting the power of organization to the need for shared resources. 

“The limitations are via resources and people and ideology, and the support for this system is via funding and media,” he said, “Organizing reaches people in communities to persuade them to challenge the system through collectives and groups to act on their will to challenge the status quo.”

As a final thought, Franklin said, “Resources are controlled by those who have the biggest voice. Communities have to be able to have a say in how resources are distributed.”

Change begins at home

My organizing work spans from community organizing and changing the class conscience to electoral politics and Pan-Africanism. I seek, in all things, opportunities to share conversation, provide information, and to learn. That said, all change begins locally. For me, this means that when I organize, my first duty is to coordinate efforts in the community in which I live and those communities closest to me. It’s also my duty to collaborate with other organizers and organizations to support each other’s work and cast a broader net in the community. 

This work is rewarding but difficult. The abolition movement began decades ago, but many remain unaware of what abolition actually looks like. Within New Jersey, organizations like Montclair Beyond Policing are active but unique. While several other organizations call for police reform and accountability, abolition goes beyond these ideas. Democracy demands abolition, and there is much more to be done to educate and organize around this movement. 

My most recent organizing effort, a teach-in to commemorate Black August, was small but impactful, and my fellow organizers and I are in the midst of planning new events, including additional movie screenings, an author forum, and a political education group. We’re also exploring the possibility of founding a New Jersey chapter of a national organization focused on building community resources. 

At the end of the day, the biggest question is always, “Why? Why do this work?” 

To answer simply, it is that my goal is to reach as many people as I can. We must change the perception and understanding of abolition if we are ever to take the necessary path toward a truly democratic society.