George Floyd’s killing sparked mass protests – but did it change anything?

You did not need to watch all of the more than eight minutes of footage, to realise this was extraordinary by any standard.

For what felt like an age, Derek Chauvin, a 44-year-old white officer with the Minneapolis Police Department, pushed his knee into the neck of George Floyd, and did not let up. Chauvin appeared calm, contemptuous even, as onlookers pointed out the man beneath him could not breathe. Floyd himself, arrested for allegedly trying to use a fake $20, indicated as much himself, spluttering as the life was choked out of him.

It was, in the words of Barack Obama, “heartbreaking”, the pain and humanity of the victim so obviously apparent. It was a moment “in which America for a brief moment came face to face with a reality that African Americans in this country I think had understood for quite some time”.

Very quickly, Minneapolis, one of of the so-called Twin Cities which with St Paul sits astride the Mississippi River in the upper Midwest, erupted in outcry and protest. A police station was set ablaze. Thousands took to the streets, demanding the four officers involved be held accountable.

Swiftly, protests were taking place in other cities and towns across the nation, and around the world. There were marches from Rio to London, as well as flames in Seattle, though the overwhelming majority of the demonstrations were peaceful.

Equally rapidly, the demands of protesters escalated; it was not simply enough for the four officers involved to be held to account, and for Chauvin, who had spent 19 imperfect years with the force to be charged with murder,  but for a defunding or reform of police departments.

Of even greater significance, the protests – their scale not seen for 50 years and their make-up more diverse than the country had ever witnessed – triggered a national conversation about the place in society occupied by people of colour, and the structures that kept them there.

Why did the criminal justice system so discriminate against young African Americans and Latinos, why were they so disproportionately the people shot and killed by police officers, why did the average black family in the United States possess just 10 per cent of the wealth of the average of a white family.

Moreover. why were so many white Americans unwilling to talk about the nation’s history of slavery, and how that slave labour helped it become a superpower? Why did so few appear willing to consider reparations?

There were the topics usually avoided as being too difficult or divisive by most politicians – Obama certainly did not feel able to talk so bluntly about race while he was president.

And yet these conversations were being held on the streets of America’s cities and towns, in schools and colleges and places of worship. People were educating others, and many appeared willing to at least listen.

Books such as White Rage: The Unspoken Truth of Our Racial Divide, by Carol Anderson, and How To Be an Antiracist by Ibram X Kendi, topped the bestsellers list. Food companies such as Quaker and Mars changed names of products like Uncle Ben’s rice to Ben’s Original and removed mascots such as Aunt Jemima.

Two of George Floyd’s brothers, Rodney and Philonise, spoke on the first night of the Democratic National Convention.

“George should be alive today,” said Philonise Floyd. “Ahmaud Arbery should be alive today. Eric Garner should be alive today. Stephon Clark, Atatiana Jefferson, Sandra Bland — they should all be alive today.”

Given, as Floyd pointed out when his speech was live-streamed to the country in August, that his brother’s killing followed the deaths of a long list of people of colour, what was it that was different about what took place in late May in the Powderhorn neighbourhood of Minneapolis?

Partly, it was the brutal nature of the video itself. But protesters across the country also pointed to the role of the pandemic.

With many people being off work or furloughed, and with college and high school students told to stay home, there were simply more people to protest.

And the pandemic also highlighted the structural racism so many were seeking to protest. The pandemic disproportionately infected and killed Black, Latino and Native communities, compared to white people, as they typically had less access to healthcare, and many suffered underlying symptoms.

Studies showed it was also people of colour who were more likely to suffer financially or lose their job.

A third factor was Donald Trump, who responded to the protests by denouncing many of the demonstrators as terrorists and anarchists, words he would never use to describe his supporters involved in violence or even killing.

When part of Seattle was ceded to protesters by the mayor as a part of a plan to de-escalate violence, Trump tweeted: “Take back your city NOW. If you don’t do it, I will. This is not a game. These ugly Anarchists must be stopped IMMEDIATELY.”

He made good on his word, sending federal agents to cities such as Chicago, and Portland, where they were generally seen to cause more problems than they solved.

At times, tensions became deadly. In Kenosha, Wisconsin, 17-year-old Maga fan Kyle Rittenhouse allegedly shot and killed two people who were taking part in protests over the police shooting of Jacob Blake, an unarmed African American who was paralysed as a result. In Portland, a member of the right-wing group Patriot Prayer, was shot and killed at a pro-Trump rally by Michael Reinoehl, who was later tracked down and killed by federal agents.

Trump rarely denounced the white nationalist groups involved in the protests. Eventually, during a televised election debate with Joe Biden, he called on another right-wing group, the Proud Boys, to “stand by”, words that were taken by many to imply they might need to be called upon in the circumstances, perhaps, of a disputed election.

So, at the end of 2020, what should we think about this?

America is certainly not any less racist. Despite what many had hoped, the presidential election was anything but a denunciation of Trump or the frequently racist views he espouses. Around 74 million voted for him, the second-highest number in history, and bettered only by Joe Biden’s 2020 tally of more than 80 million.

Trump also increased his support among Latinos and Black voters. Even though he has lost the presidency, he will remain a looming presence over politics and the Republican Party.

Joe Biden is a flawed figure, with a questionable record in public life, on issues of race relations. Yet he has made it his aim to do better.

“Joe Biden’s jobs and economic recovery agenda is built on the proposition that we must build our economy back better than it was before the Covid-19 crisis,” says his transition website. “Over the last month, Biden has been laying out his vision for a stronger, resilient, and inclusive economy. He believes in an economy where every American enjoys a fair return for their work and an equal chance to get ahead. An economy more vibrant and more powerful precisely because everybody will be included in the deal.”

And it is more than just words. He picked as his running mate Kamala Harris, the first woman of colour on a major ticket, who will now become America’s first female vice president. He picked veteran diplomat Linda Thomas-Greenfield as UN ambassador. Cuban-born Alejandro Mayorkas will head the department of homeland security.

Some may dismiss this as symbolism. But others say having diversity among the very top picks in government is crucial. 

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, the youngest person ever elected to the US Congress, celebrated the victory of Harris as the first Black woman vice-president elect, saying: “You cannot be, what you cannot see.”