Public Space and Civic Dilemmas: Lessons From The Wire

“But the corner is, it was, and it always will be the poor man’s lounge.” – Major Colvin

In this scene from Season 3 of The Wire, Major Colvin speaks at the police department’s daily ComStat meeting. The previous night, Officer Dozerman was shot during a failed drug sting. Dozerman had a simple task: ride up to some corner boys selling dope, and buy a few vials. His fellow policemen, waiting nearby, would swoop in for the subsequent arrest after the sale was complete. Yet, the corner boys were wise to the plan, and Dozerman was shot before the sale was made.

In the clip, Colvin discusses a fictional interaction between the Baltimore police and the corner boys—a “great moment of civic compromise,” as he recounts. This compromise involved a simple message from the police to the neighborhood drunks: Put your beer and liquor in paper bags while drinking in public. As long as the alcohol was covered with a paper bag, the corner boys could drink in peace, and the police could “do real police work.”

Later, Colvin would apply the paper bag policy to the city’s drug trade, concentrating all drug trafficking to an area called Hamsterdam. The entire force looked on as Baltimore’s drug dealers moved weight out in the open. Hamsterdam—where drugs were “legal”—became the modern day compromise between drug dealers and the police. All in the name of civic unity and peace.

Major Colvin realized that public space is a highly valuable public good, and battles over the use of public space are a major civic concern. The public drug trade, like public drinking, competes with other routine community activities for control over public space. To diffuse conflict and avoid this competition, Colvin attempted to privatize a public behavior. The paper bag (and the hoarding of the drug trade into an area invisible to the general public) is a way to take a public activity and disguise it as a private act. In short, it’s a compromise.

Middle class folks, with the luxury of private space, are constantly trying to legislate the use of public space. They fail to share Colvin’s wisdom that “the corner is, it was, and it always will be the poor man’s lounge;” poor folks simply don’t have the same access to private space. Middle class people rarely understand why poor folks fix up cars in the street. Or why they barbeque on public green space. Or why they sit on lawn chairs, chatting and conversing in front of the corner store. The need for public space, access to public space, and control over public space are constantly negotiated in mixed income and multi-racial communities.

I wrote about this public/private divide in perceptions of criminality last week, both in relation to drug decriminalization and violence in pro sports. But this also relates to Omar Edwards—the black, plainclothes police officer murdered by a fellow (white) officer that “mistook” him for a criminal.

In light of the murder, NAACP President Benjamin Todd Jealous discussed the changing nature of race and racism on CNN. He noted that perceptions of black inferiority drove racism sixty years ago. Back then, most racists thought blacks simply weren’t smart enough to be coaches, quarterbacks, or presidents. That’s not the case anymore, at least not to the same extent. Today, according to Jealous, racism and racial prejudice centers on perceptions of black criminality.

Unfortunately, contemporary racism runs much deeper than a simple association between race and criminal behavior. Indeed, it is political struggles over public space and our subsequent perceptions of “proper” uses of space that drive many racial prejudices. It’s a collusion of four factors—race, class, criminality, and public space—that influences contemporary racism and inequality. Edwards was shot, in part, because of the problematic, racialized way we view public space and criminal behavior. The media and blogosphere were both quick to mention that Edwards probably wouldn’t have been shot if he were white. This is a perfectly valid point. But, Edwards also probably wouldn’t have been shot if he were “caught,” say, committing online bank fraud. This private act of criminality does not carry the same racial baggage associated with public criminality.

See, public space and private acts are an important part of the equation. The difference between smoking a joint in your parents’ basement and rolling a blunt on your front stoop centers not on the morality of drug use, but on the perception of the “proper” use of public space. Public space is the poor man’s private sanctuary, and our general perceptions (and stereotypes) of race and class are a reflection of this structural reality. So when Brent Staples of the New York Times writes about the continued danger of “driving while black,” he has only identified part of the story. Laissez-faire, free market racism adds new dimensions to existing racial stereotypes that go beyond simplistic assumptions of black criminality. It’s not just about being black, but more about being black in a public, uncontrolled setting.

Major Colvin’s brilliant speech in this scene from The Wire underscores the importance of public space embedded in civic dilemmas. As we think about racial inequality and racism in this country, it might do us some good to pay attention to Colvin’s lesson.