An email alert
graced my inbox not five minutes ago. A police officer at Virginia Tech was
shot today. The details are still sketchy, but it appears as though the shooting
took place during a traffic stop on campus. While the severity of the shooting
is still unknown and the possibility of a second victim was reported, the report
indicates no suspect has yet been apprehended. A campus-wide alert is in effect
telling students and faculty to stay inside. It is at least tacitly ironic that
today is the day that Virginia Tech is defending itself for a fine imposed due
to its response (or lack thereof) in 2007, an event that still reverberates
today. For those who recall the murderous rampage at Virginia Tech, this report
is chilling and telling; our children live in a much different world today.
Many claim that the murders of the “student gunman” who killed 32 students and
faculty before killing himself at Virginia Tech represent a turning point in
how campus police operate, but I contend that the relational alignment between
campus police and the communities they serve did not change overnight. Virginia
Tech provided a convenient justification for campus police, but in reality the
relationship between campus cops and students has not been cordial for some
time now.
Look at any local
law enforcement agency’s regalia and you will find somewhere the words, “To
protect and to serve.” Ostensibly the protection and service is provided to the
community, the law-abiding citizens who, through their tax dollars, employ the
force that is serving them. While never asked out loud, the implicit, perhaps
rhetorical, question arises, “Protection from whom… or what?” Of course this is
rhetorical because the answer is obvious, but it is decidedly not rhetorical when one digs through
many of the police endeavors to “protect” us. While overzealous police activity
is nothing new – indeed, it appears that a peculiar attraction of the job
appeals to at least a few who are prone to egotistic exertions of power – there
is something darker than just a few cops using too much force to counter
criminal activity. Whereas the Rodney King beating was clear example of excess
of power institutionalized within the Los Angeles Police Department, Rodney
King was a criminal in the purest
sense of the word. This does not excuse the excessive use of force by the LAPD,
but it does highlight a troubling paradigm shift that something darker is going
on here. Who are the criminals today, particularly in the institutional mind of
campus police?
If the events last month at the Davis and Berkeley campuses of the University of California are
any indication, the relationship is adversarial at best. Now it could be argued
that those were isolated incidents and that the police were simply following
orders, but it makes little difference whether either or both of those
contentions are true. What could not be established in both cases is the
presence of criminals or criminal intent. As the viral YouTube videos of the
incidents show, the campus police were squared off against students and faculty who were peaceably protesting.
Although it is true that they may have been violating some local rules,
ordinances or – how dare they – decorum, they were not criminals any more than
my receiving a speeding ticket makes me one. The battle cry from the defenders
of force, “they were breaking the law, they deserve what they got” can be
carried to logical absurdity by calling for the death penalty for parking
violations. Using OC spray (euphemistically referred to as “pepper-spray”) and
batons on peaceful, non-violent protestors, whether or not they are “breaking
the rules,” is an inappropriate use of force. Period.
But this
relationship goes much deeper than a couple of publicly displayed instances of
(extremely) poor judgment by campus police. And this overall attitude, while
certainly apparent in those who find the power of law enforcement intoxicating,
exists at the upper levels of campus police administration. Shortly after the
YouTube video of the UC Davis police attempts to “enforce” the law against
those they are charged with protecting and serving, UCDPD Chief Annette
Spicuzza defended her officers stating that they were “surrounded” and just
needed to exit. She continued to defend them until she was silenced by “paid
administrative leave.” As mentioned earlier, the video tells us much, and part
of that “much” is that Spicuzza’s justification is patently false. And until
the outrage went global, the upper levels of administration at UC Davis,
including Chancellor Linda Katehi, condoned the actions of its law enforcement
agency. When adversarial attitude comes from the top, is it any wonder the rank
and file view the students as the enemy?
As a point of
reference, a recent event on the Louisiana State University campus indicates how campus police
leadership can positively influence the actions of its officers. Last summer a communication studies graduate student attempted to make a
political statement by burning a US flag on the parade grounds. While ill
advised, the action is constitutionally protected. On that day, protection is
exactly what the student needed. A predictably angry mob of (mostly) other students
mounted a counter-protest and his safety was anything but guaranteed.
According to the student, the LSU campus police, while sympathetic to the
counter-protesters, still managed to usher him away to safety. However, those
officers also felt that he might deserved to be charged with some violation –
perhaps the ever-popular law against using poor judgment? Causing a scene? Or
maybe even a real law such as unlawful assembly or inciting a riot… regardless,
the upper levels of police administration never let that happen. One would
expect rational judgment from police administrators and at LSU, apparently,
that expectation is realized.
It is perhaps
logical that in the wake of Virginia Tech, campus police would reassess
their role in campus life. However, the murderous rampage there and other
equally random acts are just that, random. There is little that could have been
done at Virginia Tech short of a total police state, and even then a determined
nut-case would be able to carry out a similar slaughter. There was, after
the tumultuous 60s where campus police exhibited a similar adversarial
relationship (climaxing with the Ohio National Guard shooting 13 students,
killing four at Kent State in 1970), a détente in campus police/student
relations. I experienced it as a student at San Diego State University from
1983 -1985. As a initiate and later a member of a large national fraternity, I
was involved in my share of pranks – pranks that occasionally brought me into
contact with campus police. While I was sternly admonished and even detained
for short periods of time, the police at the time knew who they were dealing
with – a young, immature and easily influenced college student. In my two years
at SDSU, I cannot remember one student ever being arrested and never once did I
see any indication of militancy even at very large student gatherings such as
home football games.
When I returned to
college in earnest, it was 2003. The school was American River College, a
community college in Sacramento, California. At the time, the campus police did
not carry guns, but they were lobbying for the right to do so, arguing that
there was the possibility that they might face a situation for which they would
be ill-prepared. The student apprehension was palatable; many asking what
recent situation would lead the police to believe that such a scenario was
forthcoming. Despite overwhelming student disapproval, the ARC campus police now
carry guns and, not surprisingly, have had occasion to use them. While the
presence of weapons and riot gear does not foretell an occasion to use them,
being prepared for an all out assault does signify the anticipation that such
an event could occur. But the question should be, from whom would the
aggression originate? A campus police force rarely deals with non-students. Are
they expecting the students to mount a counter-offensive?
After transferring
to California State University, Sacramento in 2005, my major was journalism. Upon completing my internship, even before graduation, I was a professional
journalist – I had a real job at a real newspaper writing real news about real
people and got paid real money to do it. It was not a campus newspaper. In my
capacity as a journalist I was in contact with city police, county sheriffs and
state highway patrol on a regular basis. Our relationship was always cordial
even when investigating occasional police transgressions. I also had occasion
to write stories that required input from the California State University
police. I presented myself, depending on the context of the story, sometimes as
a student journalist and others as just a journalist, and found the level of
cooperation only slightly better when not identifying as a student journalist.
My interviews were always with police “spokespersons” or upper administration
and in both my journalistic roles, when asking probing questions I was met with
indifference, indignation and more than once, disrespect. I was even
underhandedly threatened with arrest on one occasion – for simply asking
questions. This was before Virginia Tech and on a relatively quiet campus. As a
student journalist, I would expect that the campus police would have viewed our
relationship as synergistic rather than adversarial. After all, are we not on
the same team? Are we not both members of the same campus community? It is as
though the campus police, and more importantly, their leadership, have set
themselves apart from and outside the campus to which they serve.
It is difficult to
say if the new militarism exhibited by many campus police forces is a reflection
of the recent militarism seen throughout the nation in the various “Occupy”
protests or not. An argument can be made that the 1999 World Trade Organization
Ministerial Conference in Seattle was the turning point in the forced quelling
of protest activity. The tolerance gained through the sacrifices in the 60s
appears the have been forgotten. A college campus is no place to silence
descent, as University of California President Mark Yudof said in the wake of
the infamous “pepper-spray” incident at UC Davis, “free speech is part of the DNA of this
university.” If campus police use force to quiet civil disobedience the way
civil rights protesters were dealt with in Montgomery, Alabama just a
half-century ago, what is that telling our students? Although this is a
dangerous trend, the public outrage in the aftermath of the twin uses of force
in Berkeley and Davis is hopeful. Maybe we haven’t forgotten after all.