It’s not one of those tragic anniversaries you can put out of mind until the date comes back around on the calendar. In Minneapolis, we have lived with George Floyd’s murder every day for five years.
And I don’t mean that in a “we must atone for what was done in our name” kind of way. Practically speaking, the trauma, disorder, and disintegration of public safety took something from all of us. As someone who loves this city and knows what it offers at its best, I’ve felt that loss deeply.
The murder wasn’t new. The racism, brutality and corruption of MPD has persisted for generations. The sustained, intense reaction — that was new.
There was also something new for the city’s white residents. The contempt that a government institution can have for you. The confusion, fear, and anger as we realized the most basic function of local government isn’t there when you need it most.
The summer of 2020 continues to define our city’s politics because it was universally traumatic, whether or not you had any concern for racial justice. The politics of fear has a salience it didn’t have pre-2020, despite the bulging police budget, the record pay increases, and the falling crime rates.
In the wake of all that trauma, some of us might tell a more comforting version of the story of what came after the murder of George Floyd. The police chief who did the right thing. The four bad cops who went to prison. The good cops who stayed. The dangerous radicals who tried and failed to dismantle MPD — but showed so much ingratitude that the police abolished themselves. They feel resentment at elected leaders who were too hard on the police.
I’ve got a different story. I remember the fire and destruction; the lawless police force, fully staffed and poorly led; the indiscriminate shooting of projectiles at the heads of protesters and journalists; the drive-by pepper spraying from squad cars; the SWAT team gleefully shooting “less lethal” projectiles from an unmarked van at whoever they encountered. My resentment is directed at MPD and generations of leaders too scared to demand better.
I remember former Chief Arradondo in the summer of 2019 presenting to the city council about how the “sanctity of life” was the “north star” of his “transformational change.” And Mayor Frey campaigning on banning no-knock raids in 2021, then finding out a month into his second term that he had done no such thing;
Do I have faith that MPD is under genuine transformation? Let’s hope. But I frequently find myself just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Recently, MPD Assistant Chief Katie Blackwell unsuccessfully sued the producers of a documentary for defamation because so many of Blackwell’s MPD colleagues believe the conspiracy theory that she helped railroad Derek Chauvin. She says many in the department still hold onto the the “pre-Floyd MPD” culture. We’ve also seen police union leaders cheer Trump’s withdrawal of a federal consent decree.
In the last few weeks, our police chief made a public fuss in a right wing tabloid, with an accompanying MPD press release suggesting his department had been denied resources. The reality is he’s been given a blank check. We see powerful interests spending big on this year’s city election, with messages based on the false premise that MPD hasn’t been fully resourced.
Speaking of extortion, I think back often to something former Council Member Steve Fletcher wrote on June 2, 2020 after a week of fire and mayhem on city streets:
We pay dearly for public safety: $195 million a year plus extensive, expensive legal settlements. That should buy us more than a protection racket that’ll take it out on our constituents if we try to create accountability.
Many leaders before us have flinched. Looking at the steep consequences of this crisis, I think that is understandable. The violence and destruction of this week is our worst fears realized.
But now we’re here. And they can’t threaten this any more. It’s happening, and we’re going to get through it. Traumatized, suffering heavy losses, and permanently changed.”
Fletcher was maybe too optimistic when he concluded “they can’t threaten this any more.” But he tells it the way I remember it. A fully staffed MPD abandoned the city, assaulted press and protesters, incited crowds, made it worse. Generations of city leaders had flinched rather than hold the department accountable. “Our worst fears realized.”
This week’s episode of the Wedge LIVE podcast covers related themes, like Melody Hoffmann pestering me to take responsibility for other white people (which I refuse to do).