The Political Economy of Immigration Enforcement: Part I

Sameer Ashar and Amna Akbar— 

Liberals and progressives bemoan the problems of immigration enforcement and deportation along the vectors of racialization and criminalization. Their critique goes something like this: the immigration enforcement system is unfair in how it targets Black and Latinx and other immigrants of color, and this targeting has worsened as immigration enforcement has become increasingly entangled with criminal law enforcement. (A related concern has been that “immigrants are not criminals”: but both immigrant rights and racial justice movements have deconstructed and debunked this idea, since the meaning of what it is to be a criminal is just as raced and historically contingent as being an immigrant.) These concerns are played out in a field of celebratory narratives about the United States as a nation of immigrants, erasing the settler colonial routes of the country’s political and economic power.  By failing to consider questions of political economy—specifically how racial capitalism has shaped our present—these critiques lack explanatory power and historical grounding.

In this two-part series, joining colleagues such as Tendayi Achiume, Angélica Cházaro, César Cuauhtémoc García Hernández, and Sherally Munshi, we make the case that political economy and racial capitalism are central to any thoroughgoing understanding of immigration enforcement. We write in opposition to race-neutral law-and-economics descriptions of interior enforcement, such as that of Adam Cox and Eric Posner. Immigration enforcement provides a lens for understanding the global and historical relationships between the state, the market, and workers. Immigration enforcement, after all, emerged as a post-colonial tool in white settler nations like the United States and Canada as a way to limit and exclude the arrival of former colonial subjects. Here, we introduce questions and concerns that come into play when viewing immigration enforcement through a political economy lens.

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Law, Political Economy and Municipal Finance in Keilee Fant v. City of Ferguson, Missouri

Teaching Law and Political Economy through Keilee Fant v. City of Ferguson, Missouri Part IV

Angela Harris – 

There’s yet one more way I try to get students to see the mutually entangled systems of capitalism and racism presented by Fant v. Ferguson. In its 2015 report on policing in Ferguson following the killing of Michael Brown, the Civil Rights Division of the United States Justice Department concluded: “Ferguson’s law enforcement practices are shaped by the City’s focus on revenue rather than by public safety needs. This emphasis on revenue has compromised the institutional character of Ferguson’s police department, contributing to a pattern of unconstitutional policing, and has also shaped its municipal court, leading to procedures that raise due process concerns and inflict unnecessary harm on members of the Ferguson community.”

Ferguson’s reliance on law enforcement as a revenue-generating tool, however, is not unique; dependence on municipal fines and fees to fund police and court services was widespread at the time in the northern St Louis suburbs. For example, in Edmondton, where nearly one-fifth of the population lives below the poverty level, ticketing was such an important part of the city budget – comprising almost 35 percent of general revenues – that in April, 2014 the mayor put a note in some police officers’ paychecks observing a ‘marked downturn’ in the number of tickets being written, and reminding them, “the tickets that you write do add to the revenue on which the P.D. budget is established and will directly affect pay adjustments at budget time.”

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Legal Geographies of Racism and Capitalism in Keilee Fant v. City of Ferguson, Missouri

Teaching Law and Political Economy through Keilee Fant v. City of Ferguson, Missouri Part III

Angela Harris – 

In my second post on Fant v Ferguson, I highlighted the production of precarity through neoliberal state and market governance, and the crushing burden of this precarity on the poor. But the public-private creation and maintenance of precarity, of course, isn’t new. A third vantage point from which to consider Fant v Ferguson is legal geography: the way that racism and capitalism over time shape create and maintain physical spaces through processes of investment and disinvestment, development and underdevelopment, displacement and settlement. A key way into this story – as Audrey MacFarlane notes – is through the history of racial segregation in housing markets.

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Law and Neoliberalism in Keilee Fant v. City of Ferguson, Missouri

Teaching Law and Political Economy through Keilee Fant v. City of Ferguson, Missouri Part II

Angela Harris – 

In my first post on Fant v. Ferguson, I introduced the case as a story about our racialized criminal justice system. The criminal justice story, however, represents only one layer of the onion. Like its fast counterpart, the slow violence experienced by Keilee Fant is embedded in a larger system of structural economic inequality that we call “poverty.” Thomas Harvey, a co-founder of the St Louis public interest law firm ArchCity Defenders, which represented Keilee Fant in the case, has commented, “These aren’t violent criminals. These are people who make the same mistakes you or I do – speeding, not wearing a seatbelt, forgetting to get your car inspected on time. The difference is that they don’t have the money to pay the fines. Or they have kids, or jobs that don’t allow them to take time off for two or three court appearances. When you can’t pay the fines, you get fined for that, too. And when you can’t get to court, you get an arrest warrant.”

The world my students learn about in my first-year Criminal Law course contains references to the spectacles of violent black death we now associate with Ferguson, Missouri. But criminal law classes seldom touch on the mundane world represented in the Fant complaint. As criminal justice scholar Alexandra Natapoff notes, that there are really two criminal justice systems in America. There are about 1 million felony convictions in the United States every year. Meanwhile, there are about ten million misdemeanor convictions, and even more “infractions” – offenses, like traffic tickets, that are technically not crimes at all, and yet are tied to the criminal justice system through fines and fees. The felony system is a familiar, Law and Order world of grand juries, felony charges, and parties represented by counsel. The misdemeanor system produces many of the same bad collateral consequences for people who are convicted, including potential loss of state benefits, loss of employment and housing, loss of eligibility for professional licenses, family disruption, and possible deportation — but without the procedural protections available to felony defendants. Misdemeanants routinely lack access to legal representation. Their cases are handled en masse, not individually. Their claims are speedily dispensed with by plea deals that ignore questions of guilt or innocence. All the while, the individuals – black, brown, and “not quite white” – consigned by poverty to this legal underworld are treated with disdain by overworked prosecutors, judges, and defense counsel, who see them as congenitally dysfunctional “mopes.”

From this perspective, the misdemeanor criminal justice system is one element in a sprawling system of surveillance, punitive discipline, and control that makes the lives of poor people profoundly unfree. Poor people live their lives under the control of government programs that all too often start with the assumption that they are lazy, immoral, and in need of guidance and punishment. Our “welfare” system and our foster care system, for example, are built around the assumption that people receiving government assistance are likely to commit fraud. As sociologists like Kaaryn Gustafson have shown, welfare bureaucracies are so focused on punitive action that they incentivize the very fraud they punish. They are also institutionally invested in restructuring the family lives of poor people, whether the goal is to make them get married, stop them from having so many children, or keep them from having abortions – as Julie Nice and others have demonstrated.

Within this second frame, Fant v. Ferguson is a story about “neoliberalism” – an overused but still helpful word that calls attention to the shrinking social welfare state, the transmission of financial risk from government institutions to households, and the widely-held assumption that market governance is superior to democratic governance in nearly every sector of public life.

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Criminal Justice and Slow Violence in Keilee Fant v. City of Ferguson, Missouri

Ed note: This post is the first in a four-part series on Teaching Law and Political Economy through Keilee Fant v. City of Ferguson, Missouri by Angela Harris. Look out for the subsequent posts in the weeks to come!

Teaching Law and Political Economy through Keilee Fant v. City of Ferguson, Missouri
Part I: Criminal Justice and Slow Violence in Keilee Fant v. City of Ferguson, Missouri

Angela Harris – 

More than ten years ago now, Emma Coleman Jordan of Georgetown Law Center called me on the phone and invited me to join her in what she laughingly called an act of “academic imperialism.” She wanted us to collaborate in assembling a casebook – the first in the United States legal education market, we believed – on “economic justice.”

The target of our imperialism was a bifurcation within legal education. Emma and I, at Georgetown and Berkeley respectively, saw two distinct groups of students in our classes. Social justice students took courses on critical race theory, constitutional equal protection, and civil rights, while business-minded students focused courses related to economics, like securities regulation, international trade law, business associations, tax, and banking.

One effect of this divide was that our politically progressive students tended to have little understanding of how markets and market-related institutions work. Instead, they found themselves limited to a moral language under which, for example, corporations could be denounced as “evil” but corporate power and its workings remained opaque. A second, more subtle effect of this divide was to impoverish our teaching about structural inequality. The infamous “public-private split” in legal doctrine reinforces the popular belief that market power represents freedom while government embodies coercion. A similar split, insidious in a different way, limits anti-discrimination law to individual and interpersonal relations: the “intent requirement” in constitutional and statutory law protects institutional and structural subordination. At the same time, business law courses and “law and economics” seminars seldom engage with race, gender, or other forms of subordination – save for a day or two on “corporate social responsibility.” Our imperial project, then, sought to pull down the walls, disrupting both the citadel of law and economics and the cloister of critical race theory.

Though we didn’t succeed at building an empire with our book, we did develop an approach to teaching law and political economy that LPE teachers and scholars can use today. In a series of four posts, I’ll outline that approach using Keilee Fant v. City of Ferguson, Missouri, a class action filed in federal court in the Eastern District of Missouri in 2015. In my Economic Justice classes, I use the case to teach students about ways in which structural inequality in the United States is produced by both racial domination and capitalist exploitation, and what this inequality looks like in the age of “neoliberalism.” I also use it to teach students about how legal doctrine shields this structural inequality from effective challenge, giving them a perspective on the intellectual apartheid of legal doctrine and legal education. In this first post, I explain how I use the complaint in Fant to frame a discussion of law, political economy, and the “slow violence” of the criminal justice system. Subsequent posts will discuss how I use the case to teach students to connect racial and economic inequality to the concepts of neoliberalism, legal geographies, and municipal finance. Each post presents a different way to advance the LPE project in the classroom.  Continue reading

Friday Roundup

Happy Friday!

This week, the public continued to grapple with the revelation that Facebook disclosed more than 50 million users’ account information to the right-wing political consultancy Cambridge Analytica. LPE contributor Frank Pasquale has previously described how we should understand the big internet platforms as exercising a form of “functional sovereignty,” a description seemed as apt than this week as ever, when people realized how little government regulation restricted Facebook’s use of their private information. Here are three recent pieces that have caught our attention with an LPE take on the issue:

  • Beware the Big Five – the U.S. military and intelligence sector’s venture capital funding has fostered the tech sector’s consolidation and permitted the growth of private empires on the back of publicly funded R&D.
  • Facebook Isn’t Just Violating Our Privacy – Facebook is insistent on seeing its failures as harming individuals, never society as a whole, but we must insist on using collective questions to challenge Silicon Valley’s libertarian perspective.
  • The New Military-Industrial Complex of Big Data Psy-Ops – Silicon Valley’s behavioral science research has been critical to the military and intelligence apparatus.

 

Elsewhere on the web:

 

Nick Werle is a student at Yale Law School.

California Bans the Box, Twice

Noah Zatz – 

A core LPE theme is the construction of markets through political choices institutionalized in law. Those choices create an economy structured by whatever matters politically, including race. My Bailey series has been developing this theme in connection to the criminal regulation of work, in particular the use of criminal punishment to compel work. The more familiar racialized criminal justice/labor interaction concerns how the state marks individuals with criminal records, which employers then use to deny work.

Over at OnLabor, I’ve got two new posts up on some of the more technical aspects of using employment discrimination law to counter criminal records exclusions. The first one flags a familiar rules vs. standards problem in deciding when criminal record screening is permissible. The second one explores what kinds of evidence appropriately demonstrate the disparate racial impact of criminal record exclusions. In both cases, my jumping off point is innovative new regulations issued under California’s state employment discrimination law.

At some point I will share some thoughts on how these coercive and exclusionary dynamics work together.

Is “the Market” the Enemy?: Racial Exploitation in Bailey v. Alabama

Noah Zatz –

vote communist

“In our current moment, anticapitalism and struggles against state violence and incarceration tend to be separate movements.” So wrote renowned historian Robin D.G. Kelley recently in a new preface to his classic book Hammer and Hoe, which examines the largely Black Communists of early-mid 20th century Alabama. Kelley’s protagonists, in contrast, saw struggles against economic inequality and exploitation and also against specifically racialized state violence as “inextricably bound together.” This same milieu produced the groundbreaking 1911 case of Bailey v. Alabama. There, the Supreme Court struck down under the Thirteenth Amendment Alabama’s use of criminal law to hold Black workers in peonage.

This post extends my prior treatment of Bailey. My focus here is on Bailey as a case study in “racial capitalism”, and I want to challenge specifically the common conflation of all things “economic” with the outcomes of “markets,” even markets understood in Legal Realist fashion to be structured by laws of property and contract. Like Kelley, I do this with one eye on the contemporary, and in particular on the separation between critiques of “precarious work” in today’s labor markets and those aimed at our racialized carceral state.

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Division, Distraction, and Domination: Revisiting The Miner’s Canary

Frank Pasquale – 

A magazine owned by billionaire Michael Bloomberg recently reported on workers’ declining share of national income. “Why don’t workers get the full benefit of rising productivity? No one has good answers,” it stated, to the merriment of left Twitter. A raft of memes reminded Bloomberg Businessweek of the lessons of Piketty, Marx, and political economy generally. Of course capitalism is going to disproportionately reward the owners of the means of production. Surplus value helps r > g, those gains are partially reinvested in the political system, which produces even more inequality—self-reinforcing domination without end, amen.

On the other hand, there are many varieties of capitalism. Some states are much better at democratizing financial security than others. The US and UK are both savagely unequal societies, but at least the latter has a National Health Service. Germany and France do more than either the US or UK to reduce inequality through taxes. Timing matters, too: the US of the mid-1960s had far more hope of durable egalitarianism than the US of the mid 2010s. As David Grewal has argued, “Understanding why r > g has generally held — and why it briefly did not — requires an account of capitalism as a socioeconomic system structured through law.” And we cannot tell that story without, as Angela Harris argues, looking at the role of race in structuring both economic and political opportunity.

Harris’s post focuses on the history of exploitative relations between central and peripheral powers. She argues:

Part of the mission of “law and political economy,” as I see it, is to broaden our investigation of the relationship between “race” and “economics” both spatially and temporally – beyond the bounds of America as a nation-state, and beyond slavery as a starting point. The proposition is that race is foundational to “law,” to “the political,” and to “the economy.”

Both social science graduate schools, and law schools, can use the pursuit of parsimony as an excuse to abstract away from the racial context of so much of what we study. Harris is right to bring race to the center. Many of the works she cites should be in the canon of law and political economy. They help us better explain the past, while illuminating troubling trends of the present. We need to elevate research that does this vital work, exposing the role of racecraft in distracting individuals from their real interests, to pursue some contrived purity or superiority.

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Where Is Race in Law and Political Economy?

Angela Harris

In their first post on this blog, Amy, David, and Jed assert that “politics and the economy cannot be separated.” Nevertheless, as they also observe, the separation of the two – as, for example, in the idea that economic activity is determined by laws of supply and demand that lie outside the power of governments to influence, other than through misguided “intervention” – continues to influence law and policy. A similar separation runs through scholarship in several disciplines, including law, between the study of economics and the study of race. As the new field of “law and political economy” grows, one of its tasks must be to trouble this separation as well.

We know the separation most familiarly as the “race or class?” question (note the either/or framing). In the affirmative action debate, it manifests as this: Isn’t a poor white kid from Appalachia more deserving of the last spot in a freshman class than a black doctor’s kid? In academic discussions, here’s how it typically goes: All this stuff about race, or more broadly, all of this “identity politics,” is a distraction from the deeper and more fundamental realities of wealth and poverty, production and exchange. Sometimes race distracts because it is considered to be a matter of “culture,” which is “epiphenomenal” to material relations: It’s about exploitation, stupid! Other times, race is considered a distraction for pragmatic reasons, because its appearance is “divisive,” threatening the solidarity of labor, or the electorate, or progressive communities, or women. At still other times, especially within academia, the separation of race from economics looks something like a polite form of intellectual self-segregation: while all the black kids are sitting in the cafeteria together talking about critical race theory, the law and economics kids are at their own table, drawing supply and demand curves and talking about Pareto optimality. To each their own, and everybody’s happy.

But this story of race and racism as either irrelevant to or reducible to the story of production, exchange, and consumption is wrong. Black studies scholars have been saying so for quite some time. In 1935, W.E.B. Du Bois argued that what turned the tide of the Civil War was a mass withdrawal of slave labor, amounting to a “general strike.” In his view, the North’s victory was neither a race story nor a labor story, but a powerful demonstration of how the two were intertwined. Generations later, Cedric Robinson’s Black Marxism provided a similar attempt to take race seriously within a materialist frame, arguing that the Eurocentric origins of Marxist theory left it unable to adequately account for black history.

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