The film does not lie. What happened to a young black man in Memphis, pulled over for reckless driving – an arrest with no evidence, pepper sprayed until he fled, run down, then brutally beaten by five black police officers – leading to his death – was an act of animal inhumanity. Anyone watching is left numb. The young man cries for his mother. How can this happen – in America?

That question is actually five or six questions, packaged as one. First, how do we begin to explain – which we must as a Nation – to ourselves, to the world, and to the family of the young man killed that we are not this kind of nation, not indifferent to this kind of brutality, but just the reverse?

How do we demonstrate that we are a nation that is compassionate, seeks not only justice retroactively for such animal inhumanity, but fairness and decency proactively, at home as abroad? How do we take acts of such unforgivable cruelty, undeniable facts before an unblinking camera, and make things right?

In tandem with that haunting question, is another. How do we convey to each other, black to black, white to black, white to white, black to white – that we understand this behavior to be intolerable, fundamentally un-American, anti-American, inhumane, unacceptable, and barbaric?

While barbarity by anyone motivated by racism is without justification, the specific acts in that film from Memphis were committed by those in uniform. Law enforcement is not systemically racist, but these acts committed by those in uniform disgrace a noble profession, one characterized by those who serve at enormous personal risk every day – who are by their very nature other-regarding, service oriented, and heroic.

How does this noble profession make sense of such an incident of barbarism, raw inhumanity, stunning abuse, a disgrace to the profession? How do other law enforcement officers convey that this is not they?

Deeper still, what does this tell us about how we are evolving as a society – forward or backward? Toward greater understanding, patience, decency, and resetting expectations higher and with empathy, striving to do better – or the reverse, giving up, allowing aggressive passions to control us?

In a more practical sense, what are we doing – and not doing – that allows such horrific acts? If the society is becoming more course, less self-aware, less idealistic, less honorable, less interested in accountability for those in authority – from law enforcement to politics – how do we reverse that?

Answers are not hard to find, just hard to implement. With a deep breath, let me speak them aloud.  Somewhere within that disbanded unit in Memphis, and in our larger society, we have allowed inhumanity to seed and grow, as if it did not matter, as if we do not matter to each other, as if evil is somehow permissible. Those officers did not check each other, stop each other, or understand the moral imperative.

As a society, we seem increasingly content to “look away” for personal, political, legal, racial, and ultimately immoral reasons – from the credo that we know we should abide. We know we are expected by an omniscient God, once loving parents, those who know us, and ourselves to do what is right. Yet many in society have allowed their conscience to be dulled, a thing that creeps until it explodes.

So, how do we get back to what is right? How does American society restore the understanding that we are a compassionate people, prevent this kind of inhumanity, speak openly to each other about restored understanding, affirm faith and trust in those who serve – especially law enforcement? How do we use this horrific film – hard to un-remember – to shape a better future?

The answer is we must universally condemn cruelty, let the legal process work, murder charges play out.  We must affirm who we are in how we personally treat others, speak with others, and make real the idea that this society is different, that we can cooperate on moral and trusting terms.

Finally, we must look closer to home, recruit with care those who lead and serve, including law enforcement. We must – contrary to what the senseless rioters believe in Atlanta – have facilities, curriculum, and seasoned leaders to train young law enforcement officers well. We must – every day – expect of ourselves and of those who serve us, the best they can deliver. 

Most importantly we must resoundingly admit it when we see it and can prove it in a court of law:  malpractice in law enforcement (just as we condemn bad surgeons or erratic school bus drivers) will have consequences, as no one in America is above the law, not even those who enforce the law.

If we do these things, we will restore trust in our leaders, law enforcement, and each other. We will reaffirm what this nation is premised on, honor, faith, and rule of law. Until then, we must wrestle with the facts as they confront us, especially in this case, have patience as the law works, honor each other with compassion. Bad things happen everywhere, even in America – and our aim must be to minimize, deter, and prevent them.  Sometimes you have to take stock of what is. The film does not lie. 

These are the sad lessons of Memphis.

Robert Charles is a former Assistant Secretary of State under Colin Powell, former Reagan and Bush 41 White House staffer, attorney, and naval intelligence officer (USNR). He wrote “Narcotics and Terrorism” (2003), “Eagles and Evergreens” (2018), and is National Spokesman for AMAC.

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