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64 pages 2 hours read

Michelle Alexander

The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness

Nonfiction | Book | Adult | Published in 2010

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Themes

Mass Incarceration as a System of Racialized Social Control

The key thesis to Alexander’s book—the notion that mass incarceration and the War on Drugs are systems of social control—contradicts the conventional wisdom that the prison system was expanded to deter crime. While many Americans were already skeptical of mass incarceration as an effective form of crime prevention, Alexander takes the argument a step further to suggest that this was never the intent of the system to begin with. Rather, she views mass incarceration as the product of a concerted political effort to exploit white racial anxieties by casting Black males as criminals.

Among the biggest pieces of evidence to support this thesis is the fact that the earliest use of the term, “The War of Drugs,” arose as part of President Richard Nixon’s efforts to win over Southern Democrats who felt alienated by their party’s support of the Civil Rights Movement. Given that explicitly racial appeals had become verboten in the years following the Civil Rights Movement, Nixon couched implicitly racial appeals in the race-neutral language of “law and order.” From the start, the War on Drugs was almost entirely a rhetorical tool designed to drive a wedge between white and Black members of the poor and working classes. In fact, hardly any significant policy changes concerning drug enforcement took place during Nixon’s presidency.

That changed with the election of Ronald Reagan. Like Nixon, Reagan employed racial dog whistles like “law and order,” “predators,” and “welfare queens” to paint Black Americans as undeserving of public benefits or as outright criminals. Unlike Nixon, however, Reagan adopted an aggressive antidrug policy as early as 1982. Alexander emphasizes that, at that time, only 2% of Americans considered drugs a serious issue in the United States. Moreover, this was years before the crack crisis swept through urban communities. Thus, Alexander concludes, Reagan’s escalation of the War on Drugs came not in response to a legitimate or even a perceived crisis. Rather, it was the start of a concerted media campaign to frame the Republican Party as the home for white middle- and lower-class voters who required a “racial bribe” to support a platform aligned with wealthy corporate interests, Alexander writes. This, she adds, is consistent with the patterns of every racial caste system’s origins, including slavery and Jim Crow.

Once these social dynamics were established, and once lucrative financial incentives were put in place to encourage the police’s participation, mass incarceration became a bipartisan political race to the bottom to determine who could prove themselves the “toughest” on crime. Alexander writes that “in 1992, presidential candidate Bill Clinton vowed that he would never permit any Republican to be perceived as tougher on crime than he” (71). The sentiment is eerily reminiscent of segregationist George Wallace’s disputed yet widely reported quote following an election loss that no “will ever out-n***** me again.” (Raines, Howell. “George Wallace, Segregation Symbol, Dies at 79.” The New York Times. 14 Sep. 1998.)

But perhaps the most convincing part of Alexander’s argument involves how the system of mass incarceration fails at its purported goal of combating crime while successfully serving as a tool of racialized social control. Given the raft of factors involved in such analyses, it is difficult to quantify precisely how much crime is prevented by mass incarceration. Yet Alexander cites research showing that the most optimistic readings of the data show only a 25% reduction in crime due to mass incarceration, while the most pessimistic readings show a reduction of close to zero. Furthermore, Alexander makes a compelling argument that mass incarceration in fact increases crime by shuffling millions of Black men into an endless loop of poverty and disenfranchisement.

This is despite the fact that mass incarceration costs nearly $200 billion a year. Yet for a system of social control, some might view that as a bargain price. As Alexander writes,

Saying mass incarceration is an abysmal failure makes sense, though, only if one assumes that the criminal justice system is designed to prevent and control crime. But if mass incarceration is understood as a system of social control—specifically, racial control—then the system is a fantastic success (295).

The Adaptability of Racism and Racial Caste Systems

From slavery to Jim Crow to mass incarceration, Alexander identifies clear patterns in how these systems are built, maintained, dismantled, and eventually transformed into something new. Each system arose as a way of dividing white and Black members of the poor and working classes to limit their political power and protect the economic power of elites. Thus, whenever these systems are dismantled—as they were during Reconstruction and the Civil Rights Movement—those same elites scramble to set a new racial caste in place, one that is better tailored for the era in question. For example, at the end of the Civil War, the wealthy planter class required a labor class to complete the backbreaking work once done by enslaved people. Initially, it looked to convict leasing, a practice not unlike mass incarceration by which Black Southerners were targeted disproportionately by vagrancy laws and other racially motivated statutes, then forced to work on plantations under conditions not unlike slavery. This proved to be a stop-gap measure, as public opinion quickly soured on a gambit that so closely resembled slavery, which so many Americans fought to eliminate. Moreover, Southern elites had to contend with a growing Populist movement that increasingly sought to unite white and Black laborers into a potentially powerful political coalition.

A more enduring solution came in the form of a new racial caste system: Jim Crow. Given that racism was already rampant in the American South, it was not difficult to build a new narrative of white supremacy centered not on slavery but on the righteousness of the Southern cause during the Civil War and the legal subjugation of the Black race. This appealed particularly to white Southerners’ humiliation at losing what they soon came to call the War of Northern Aggression, as if the Confederacy itself hadn’t launched an insurrection on behalf of slavery. By segregating Southern society, relegating Black communities to second-class citizenry, and enabling organizations like the Ku Klux Klan to intimidate and terrorize those communities, Jim Crow constituted yet another racial bribe to whites, one uniquely suited to the cultural tenor of the era. Racism adapted.

This racial caste system persisted until the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965 formally dismantled Jim Crow. Thanks to an ambitious grassroots mobilization led by individuals like Martin Luther King Jr., America reached a new consensus that explicitly racial political speech would no longer be tolerated. Thus, for certain political elites to once again divide the nation along racial lines in service of a new caste system, racism would have to adapt again, this time to a putatively colorblind nation. So in a tradition that began with Richard Nixon, escalated with Ronald Reagan, and reached full fruition with Bill Clinton, politicians sought to divide white and Black America through the coded rhetoric of law-and-order politics. Of course, rhetoric alone cannot create a new caste system. Thus, the War on Drugs was born. Not only that, but a concerted propaganda effort combined with vast federal incentives all but ensured that Black men would be the ones most targeted by police and prosecutors.

Given the proven adaptability of racism in America and the extent to which mass incarceration is built on a foundation of colorblindness, Alexander insists that criminal justice reformers ensure that race is central to their efforts and rhetoric. Otherwise, history will repeat itself, and the new caste system that emerges to replace the old one may be even more durable. Already, Alexander notes in the Preface to the 2020 edition, the system of mass incarceration can be seen morphing into a system of mass detention and deportation targeting Latinx immigrants.

How the Era of Colorblindness Contributed to Mass Incarceration

In the years following the Civil Rights Movement, Americans were no longer willing to tolerate explicitly racial speech from their political leaders. The days of George Wallace proclaiming “Segregation forever!” (50) were replaced by a vocabulary of coded rhetoric designed to appeal to racial prejudices while preserving plausible deniability for the speaker.

Yet as mass incarceration escalated, it became clear that this was no flaw in the new racial caste system but a defining feature. By justifying disproportionate racial outcomes in traffic stops, arrests, and sentencing in strictly race-neutral terms, it created the illusion that mass incarceration was something other than a form of racial control. In a way this makes mass incarceration a more durable form of racial caste than either slavery or Jim Crow. There is no question that both slavery and Jim Crow were systems of explicit racial control, and so as public opinion shifted on abolition and desegregation, respectively, these systems eventually crumbled. Though most Americans would likely reject the creation and continuation of a new racial caste after Jim Crow, the race-neutral rhetoric of mass incarceration blinds them to what it really is. Alexander sees it as a grim reflection of a colorblind nation when Americans, who would likely renounce a criminal justice system in which 100% of the drug criminals are Black, are willing to accept a system in which only 90% of the drug criminals in some states are Black. She also argues that this denial is unintentionally exacerbated by affirmative action, which helps elevate a small number of exceptional Black men and women as tokens of racial progress. She writes, “We have become blind, not so much to race, but to the existence of racial caste in America” (300).

Even today, bipartisan calls to downsize prisons and alleviate the negative consequences associated with the prison label are often couched in race-neutral terms. For many, transforming the criminal justice system is a worthy effort simply because of its extraordinary costs, its questionable success at deterring crime, and the needless human suffering it causes—all good reasons to address the issue. Yet Alexander is emphatic that unless criminal justice reform is done in a way that acknowledges the system as a form of social control, another racial caste system will simply emerge in its place. For that reason, Alexander sees a silver lining to the election of Donald Trump, whom she views as having accelerated the end of colorblindness through racial demagoguery.

How the “Prison Label” Transforms the Formerly Incarcerated into Second-Class Citizens

When Alexander writes about the victims of mass incarceration, she refers not only to the 2 million individuals currently behind bars, nor only to the 5 million currently on parole or probation. She refers also to the 19 million people with a felony record who are affixed with the “prison label” (17). Individuals with felony records face legal discrimination in housing, employment, welfare benefits, and often voting rights—the precise forms of discrimination Black Southerners faced during the Jim Crow era. In the years since the publication of The New Jim Crow, some of this discrimination has decreased, most dramatically with respect to food stamp eligibility and “ban the box” initiatives. Yet absent federal guidance or reforms, these improvements have arrived piecemeal on a state-by-state basis, leaving millions still subject to the kind of discrimination civil rights activists fought so hard to eliminate in the 1960s.

Moreover, the effects of the prison label go beyond legal discrimination. Alexander writes at length about the severe psychological damage the formerly incarcerated suffer upon reentering society. Stigmatized by the media, politicians, public benefits offices, prospective employers, landlords, and others, the formerly incarcerated frequently internalize the stigma and give in to despair. Others take what Alexander views as a regrettable yet psychologically understandable route of embracing the criminal stigma. She views gangsta rap and gangsta culture largely as an expression of this coping mechanism.

Worse still, the formerly incarcerated are frequently stigmatized by their own family members, a tragic consequence of a culture of silence Alexander observes in urban communities of color concerning mass incarceration. This is one way mass incarceration is more damaging than Jim Crow. Alexander writes, “During Jim Crow, blacks were severely stigmatized and segregated on the basis of race, but in their own communities they could find support, solidarity, acceptance—love” (206). The formerly incarcerated, however, are more likely to be met with contempt by the world outside, which forever views them as criminals. Finally, so ingrained is the cultural association between Black men and criminality that many are afflicted with the prison label without ever being arrested, treated with scorn because of the color of their skin, the clothes they wear, and the neighborhood they live in. Alexander sees this expressed most starkly when young Black men reflexively line up against a wall at the mere sight of a passing police car.

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