When Michael Brown was walking down Canfield Drive on the sunny Saturday of August 9 with his friend Dorian Johnson, surely he never dreamed he would one month later fill a Ferguson City Council with young, engaged black men. But that is just what happened.
The protest movement sparked by Ferguson Police Officer Darren Wilson’s fatal shooting of the unarmed black teen on August 9 is still going strong a month later. This was evident Tuesday night, Sept. 9, when a passionate crowd filled Greater Grace Church in Ferguson to attend the first meeting of the Ferguson City Council convened since Brown’s death.
The public was greeted by a police line searching for weapons – and surprised to be told that people would be allowed to speak for three minutes each but would receive no responses from the council, which includes Mayor James Knowles III.
The public comments made it clear why this protest movement remains strong a month after it erupted.
“It’s over with,” one young black man said, after reciting a litany of police abuses. “I’m tired of it.”
Another young black man talked about the trials of driving while black in Ferguson and North County, when during a brief drive one may be stopped and ticketed in several different municipalities.
“We know where the good jails are from being locked up so many times,” said another young black man.
Though the public was told to identify themselves by name, address and phone number, few complied. Most either spoke anonymously or identified themselves as “Mike Brown” with the address “Ground Zero.”
One young white woman and one young white man each self-identified as “Mike Brown.” When the young white man did so relatively early in the three-hour meeting, protest chants got going throughout the church for the first time.
Racial solidarity was a constant theme throughout the meeting. A black woman pointed out this is a matter of right vs. wrong, not black vs. white, and was cheered. A helpful white woman who offered pointers about researching city government and running for office received a round of applause. Statements of strong solidarity from white speakers really gave spirit to the majority-black crowd.
John Chasnoff, a white man who has organized against police repression and brutality for decades, lectured the City Council on the provisions necessary for a meaningful civilian review board, such as political independence and subpoena power. He received a mob of hugs from black activists as he stepped away from the mic.
The City Council had preemptively released a list of planned changes to appease protestors, including a weak version of a civilian review board and various changes to municipal court policy, presumably meant to ease the burden on residents suffering under what one speaker described as a “modern debtor’s prison.”
According to the Ferguson city budget, 21 percent of the expected revenue in fiscal 2014 will come from municipal court fees and fines – largely collected from African Americans who suffer a disproportionate number of traffic stops and searches. The cycle of non-violent offence, bench warrant and incarceration has taken its toll on the community, especially young black men.
The City Council also was responding to legal pressure from attorneys at the Saint Louis University School of Law and Arch City Defenders, three attorneys who have been fighting injustice in area municipal courts. A White Paper prepared by Arch City Defenders sparked investigative journalism in the Washington Post and other media that gave the protest movement a firm basis of fact and fresh momentum.
When Attorney General Eric Holder spoke about the situation in Ferguson last week, his remarks reflected a detailed awareness of the Arch City Defenders’ White Paper and the journalism resulting from it.
The presence of Department of Justice investigators in Ferguson, which was ordered by Holder, was noted sadly at the meeting.
“It’s a shame that this child had to die before the federal government stepped in,” a black woman said.
If the City Council thought its advance concessions would placate the public, it was mistaken.
“We need municipal court change, not just here,” said state Rep. Kimberly Gardner, who represents part of the city of St. Louis.
Brendan Roediger, co-author of a stinging letter from SLU Law’s legal clinic to the City Council, said at a press conference earlier on Tuesday that the concessions did not go far enough.
“Our letter requested that all nonviolent convictions and warrants go away – that the warrants be lifted and there be no fines,” Roediger said outside City Hall. “We are looking to repair the relationship between the city and the community.”
That relationship is far from repaired, as the City Council meeting made clear.
For one, the process that produced the concessions was questioned. The City Council seemed to have agreed on new legislation without a public meeting, which would violate state law about open meetings.
“How can you propose a bill for a first reading?” one man asked. “Have you been meeting in secret?”
It did not help that council members sat through three hours of questioning and (at times) abuse from the public without offering any answers or explanations. A City Council being addressed by an entire church full of constituents without answering any of their questions ranks up there with riot cops pointing assault rifles at innocent people with their hands up among the bizarre images to emerge from Ferguson.
“It looks like a good job,” one black man taunted the council, “to sit up there and say nothing and get paid.”
A black woman derided the mayor for his lack of leadership. “Mayor Knowles, it has to be you,” she said. “And if it’s not you, it has to be someone else.”
Knowles, in one of his brief remarks to the audience, managed to refer to a constituent as a “customer,” when he called the next speaker to the mic by saying, “Next customer.”
A recall of the mayor was threatened. Another resident asked of Police Chief Tom Jackson, “Why is the chief still employed?”
The dominant spirit was renewed black political engagement, with support from white allies, moving toward change in Ferguson and beyond.
“We’re not fighting each other anymore,” one young black man said. “Those days are dead.” He pointed at the City Council. “Now, we’re going to be fighting you,” he said, “because you been fighting us.”
