An Exercise On How Lose The Narrative.
In the three months since the Norman, Oklahoma, City Council voted to redirect money meant for the police department — as part of a national reform movement following George Floyd’s killing — the largely white city has been split in two.
Opponents have tried to force council members from office. The police union has filed a lawsuit accusing the council of abusing its power. There have been protests, counterprotests and protests against those counterprotests — and now some residents are questioning what exactly the effort has achieved.
How a debate over police funding escalated in Norman, Oklahoma — and divided the town
“It was just built up to be something it should have never got up to be,” one resident said.
Sept. 22, 2020, 1:43 AM PDT / Updated Sept. 22, 2020, 6:18 AM PDT
By Jon Schuppe
In the three months since Norman, Oklahoma, City Council member Kate Bierman voted to redirect money meant for the police department, she has been accused of participating in a leftist conspiracy.
She’s been screamed at from a car passing by her home. Opponents have tried to force her and her fellow council members from office. The police union has filed a lawsuit accusing the council of abusing its power. There have been protests, counterprotests, and protests against those counterprotests.
Sometimes, it feels as if the town has been split in two.
“This has brought quite the divide to our city,” Bierman, 33, said.
Since the Memorial Day killing of George Floyd while in Minneapolis police custody triggered a wave of street protests across the country, cities have responded with proposals to curb police use of force, confront systemic racism and rethink law enforcement’s role in society. Many local governments have moved to cut police budgets or shift money from police to social service programs.
But as the reform movement spreads, so has the resistance, with the rhetoric largely falling along partisan lines: progressives clamoring for change and conservatives accusing them of undermining public safety. President Donald Trump has sought to capitalize on that disunity in the Nov. 3 election, warning of chaos if those he calls “radical” reformers have their way.
In June, that battle came to Norman, a largely white college town of 121,000 with a history of racial oppression. Norman, which is less than 5 percent Black, now harbors a streak of liberalism that contrasts with most of Oklahoma, which voted overwhelmingly for Trump and his law-and-order message in 2016.
Under pressure from racial justice activists, the all-white Norman City Council held two heated public hearings and then voted to divert $865,000 — or nearly 4 percent of the police department’s proposed $23 million budget — to create new community outreach programs and to hire an auditor. The move set in motion a cascade of events that has left some residents wondering if the city has lost sight of the problem — police abuse of Black people — that Floyd’s death represented.
“I don’t know that this would have started in Norman without that powder keg,” said James Chappel, 59, a retired utility company engineer who recently served for a year as the city’s first Black councilman. The budget vote and the backlash that followed “generated more negativity than it did positivity. As for the issue of Black men and women getting killed, I don’t know much much it did toward that.”
James Chappel was the first Black councilman in Norman.
(Continued)
In the three months since the Norman, Oklahoma, City Council voted to redirect money meant for the police department — as part of a national reform movement following George Floyd’s killing — the largely white city has been split in two.
Opponents have tried to force council members from office. The police union has filed a lawsuit accusing the council of abusing its power. There have been protests, counterprotests and protests against those counterprotests — and now some residents are questioning what exactly the effort has achieved.
How a debate over police funding escalated in Norman, Oklahoma — and divided the town
“It was just built up to be something it should have never got up to be,” one resident said.
Sept. 22, 2020, 1:43 AM PDT / Updated Sept. 22, 2020, 6:18 AM PDT
By Jon Schuppe
In the three months since Norman, Oklahoma, City Council member Kate Bierman voted to redirect money meant for the police department, she has been accused of participating in a leftist conspiracy.
She’s been screamed at from a car passing by her home. Opponents have tried to force her and her fellow council members from office. The police union has filed a lawsuit accusing the council of abusing its power. There have been protests, counterprotests, and protests against those counterprotests.
Sometimes, it feels as if the town has been split in two.
“This has brought quite the divide to our city,” Bierman, 33, said.
Since the Memorial Day killing of George Floyd while in Minneapolis police custody triggered a wave of street protests across the country, cities have responded with proposals to curb police use of force, confront systemic racism and rethink law enforcement’s role in society. Many local governments have moved to cut police budgets or shift money from police to social service programs.
But as the reform movement spreads, so has the resistance, with the rhetoric largely falling along partisan lines: progressives clamoring for change and conservatives accusing them of undermining public safety. President Donald Trump has sought to capitalize on that disunity in the Nov. 3 election, warning of chaos if those he calls “radical” reformers have their way.
In June, that battle came to Norman, a largely white college town of 121,000 with a history of racial oppression. Norman, which is less than 5 percent Black, now harbors a streak of liberalism that contrasts with most of Oklahoma, which voted overwhelmingly for Trump and his law-and-order message in 2016.
Under pressure from racial justice activists, the all-white Norman City Council held two heated public hearings and then voted to divert $865,000 — or nearly 4 percent of the police department’s proposed $23 million budget — to create new community outreach programs and to hire an auditor. The move set in motion a cascade of events that has left some residents wondering if the city has lost sight of the problem — police abuse of Black people — that Floyd’s death represented.
“I don’t know that this would have started in Norman without that powder keg,” said James Chappel, 59, a retired utility company engineer who recently served for a year as the city’s first Black councilman. The budget vote and the backlash that followed “generated more negativity than it did positivity. As for the issue of Black men and women getting killed, I don’t know much much it did toward that.”
James Chappel was the first Black councilman in Norman.
(Continued)
