[One of my favorite cultural works of the last year was Small Axe, filmmaker Steve McQueen’s anthology film series about the West Indian community in England from the 1960s through the 1980s. I’m not an EnglandStudier, but I think there are plenty of ways to apply the five wonderful films to AmericanStudying. So this week I’ll highlight a handful, leading up to a Guest Post on McQueen’s prior films!]
On the
progressive potential of the court system, and how a frustratingly divisive
theoretical frame helps us understand it.
The first of the
five Small Axe films, both in the
order they were released and in the chronology of their settings and stories,
is Mangrove, which
tells the compelling true
story of a 1960s Caribbean restaurant (the Mangrove) in London’s Notting
Hill neighborhood which became the focus of both repeated acts of police
brutality and a subsequent criminal case that sought to convict the so-called Mangrove
Nine (a group of West Indian activists and community leaders, including the
restaurant’s owner Frank
Crichlow, who had led communal pushback to the police’s misdeeds) of the
serious charges of riot and affray. The majority of the nine beat the charges
(and those who were convicted received reduced sentences), thanks in large part
to their stirring testimony in the course of the trial (as well as to the
efforts of their
legal allies), and the case is considered a hugely significant legal
advance for Britons of color and for the gradual, haphazard, fraught, yet vital
and inspiring move toward a more inclusive and less institutionally
racist English society.
The Mangrove Nine
case thus represents something about which I’ve
thought and written
a great deal in an American
historical context: the possibility for the court system, and thus the
legal and justice systems overall, to serve as a vehicle for progress and
equity. Of course far,
far far
far far far, too often
the opposite has been true—not just with racist and discriminatory and
exclusionary laws and policies, but also and to me even more frustratingly with
the courts themselves supporting and reinforcing and amplifying those legal,
political, and social elements. Yet at the same time, court decisions have
absolutely advanced numerous social movements and causes throughout American
history, from abolition and birthright citizenship as illustrated by my first
hyperlinks in this paragraph to the more recent roles of the courts in (for
example) opposing
President Trump’s Muslim bans (although the Supreme Court unfortunately dropped that
ball). At the very least, our history reveals the persistence of this
potential progressive role for the courts, and remembering those histories
allows for hope for that continued role in the present and future.
Interestingly,
one helpful theoretical lens for both remembering and extending that hopeful
legacy is something that has become a dirty word for many 21st
century Americans (and currently numerous state
legislatures): critical
race theory. I believe even more thoughtful Americans sometimes see
critical race theory as only advancing the more directly critical side of the
equation, the one that argues, in the first of CRT’s two founding ideas, “that
white supremacy exists and exhibits power maintained over time, and, in
particular, that the law plays a role in this process.” But CRT likewise has a
more optimistic layer, as illustrated by its second founding idea: “that
transforming the relationship between law and racial power, as well as
achieving racial emancipation and anti-subordination more broadly, are possible.”
That sums up quite nicely what I would want to argue about the progressive
potential of the courts and the law, a potential exemplified by the Mangrove
Nine decision and the inspiring conclusion of Mangrove alike.
Next Axe
application tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What do you
think? Other takes on Caribbean American connections?
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