Drug War

the Web Editors 01-13-2016

Image via /Shutterstock.com

Due to a sudden wave of ICE raids and deportations of asylum seekers fleeing violence in Central America, the White House has faced anger from numerous Democrats in Congress, who drafted a letter denouncing the raids. This new refugee plan, which sets up screening facilities in Central America, aims to reduce human smuggling as well to slow the flow of undocumented immigration.

Michelle Alexander 06-03-2014

Three steps for building a transformative movement for justice.

Michelle Alexander 06-03-2014

I HEAR A STIRRING, a rumbling. An awakening. Sometimes the sound is so faint, I worry it’s my imagination, my optimism getting the best of me. I pause, listen, and wait. Here it comes again. I want to rush to my window, fling it open, stick my head way out, and look around. Is it happening? For real this time? Is the sleeping giant finally waking up?

God knows we’ve slept too long.

Many of us—myself included—slept through a revolution. Actually, it was a counterrevolution that has blown back much of the progress that so many racial justice advocates risked their lives for. This counterrevolution occurred with barely a whimper of protest, even as a war was declared, one that purported to be aimed at “drugs.”

Really, the war took aim at people—overwhelmingly poor people and people of color—who were taken prisoner en masse and then relegated to a permanent, second-class status, stripped of basic civil and human rights such as the right to vote, the right to serve on juries, and the right to be free from legal discrimination in employment, housing, and access to education and public benefits. Branded “criminals” or “felons,” millions of people discovered that the very rights supposedly won in the civil rights movement no longer applied to them.

A penal system unprecedented in world history emerged in a few short decades; by the year 2000, 2 million people found themselves behind bars, and 60 million were saddled with criminal records that would condemn them for life—staggering statistics, given that in the 1970s there were only about 350,000 people in prison.

I am listening carefully at my window now. I hear that rumbling sound, signs of an awakening in the streets. My heart leaps for joy. People of all colors are beginning to raise their voices a little louder; people who have spent time behind bars are organizing for the restoration of their civil and human rights; young people are becoming bolder and more defiant in challenging the prison-industrial complex; and people of faith are finally waking up to the uncomfortable reality that we have been complicit in the birth and maintenance of a system predicated on denying to God’s children the very forms of compassion, forgiveness, and possibilities for redemption that we claim to cherish.

Police squad car lights, Gila Photography / Shutterstock.com

Police squad car lights, Gila Photography / Shutterstock.com

When I was invited by the Drug Policy Alliance to  participate in a pastors’ conference at the American Baptist College in Nashville on drug decriminalization, I didn’t know quite what to expect. In a room filled with African-American pastors, I felt like a fly on the wall of someone else’s family reunion. I began to see our criminal justice system, and our country, through different eyes.

I’ve reported on the conference elsewhere, but there I learned that while 13 percent of drug users are African-American, they account for 38 percent of drug arrests and 59 percent of drug convictions. Feeling disproportionately targeted, the pastors want drug usage to be treated as a health issue rather than a crime. 

As the conference unfolded, it dawned on me that I, as part of the majority culture, perceive law enforcement in ways strikingly different from the way many African-Americans see it. I have always experienced American authorities as my protector. If the police pull me over for speeding, it is nothing more than an annoyance, and the ticket won’t break me. Though I’m no fan of traffic cameras and drones, for the most part the police are there to watch out for me, and they do. It has always been that way for my family, as we can trace our roots of privilege back to Northern Europe in the early 1500s. Those in charge are the good guys who protect us and our stuff.

But for these African-American pastor-friends of mine, it’s a different story.

Aaron Taylor 06-17-2010
Last night I googled the words "drone attacks Obama" to verify if President Obama has indeed increased unmanned http://www.sojo.net/index.cfm?action=magazine.article&issue=soj0908&amp

THE PRICE OF cocaine in the U.S.

Laurel Frodge 07-01-2009
American Violet, directed by Tim Disney. Uncommon Productions.
Alan Bean 04-15-2009
American Violet, a Hollywood blockbuster that opens in theaters next week, tells the story of Regina Kelly, one of the people rounded up in a T
Rose Marie Berger 08-01-2006

Nane Alejandrez had plenty of opportunities to die. Instead he chose life, and brought generations of Latino youngsters with him.

Sanho Tree 05-01-2003

Our jails overflow with nonviolent drug offenders. Have we reached the point where the drug war causes more harm than the drugs themselves?

The Editors 05-01-2003

A conservative Republican asks: What would happen if there were no profit in drugs?

Sanho Tree 05-01-2003

Drugs, race, and some pretty skewed numbers.

Eric E. Sterling 05-01-2003

Over the years, churches have had a lot to say about alcohol and drug policy. Some of it has been helpful.

Rose Marie Berger 07-01-2001
Voices from the Colombian church's human rights community.
Rose Marie Berger 05-01-2001

On the Colombian front of the drug war, it's hard to tell who—or what—is the real enemy.

Rose Marie Berger 05-01-2001

In November 2000, Congress passed "Plan Colombia," a $1.3 billion plan to fight cocaine production in Colombia. 

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