How did a New York real estate magnate mired in scandals, including a lawsuit for fraudulent advertising by his university, the refusal to reveal his tax returns on the pretext that “Americans don’t care at all” (it turns out many do), a federal investigation into anti-black bias on his properties, and the confessed misuse of funds by his charitable foundation—not to mention personal sexual misconduct—manage to make anti-corruption a centerpiece of his campaign?

If indeed what we confront is an apartheid state, then what is our responsibility as scholars and educators? Put bluntly, what is the role of the university in the age of (American) white supremacy? What are the critiques, actions, and pedagogies we must produce to challenge the normalization of violence?

I am interested in what this rise says about the state of “British tolerance,” or rather, how it has contributed to the sense that Brexit has marked a “purge of inclusive values.” In this context, what does tolerance look like and is it really a lost ideal?

By this point, we have perhaps become accustomed to the inquiries from friends and family—“So, what do you study exactly?” The response—“Geography”—is often met by perplexed looks and polite smiles—“And, what do you plan to do with that?” For us, this dreaded question belies more than the familiar ritual of mid-twenty-something professional angst.

This essay attempts to articulate the historical significance of those defending racialized police violence. It asks: how has a phrase like “black lives matter,” so patently banal, become so politically explosive? How can the same factions revitalized by the mantra of “small government” defend the most extreme form of government intervention possible—killing its citizens?