The race-based data debate
The history of using “science” and “data” to encourage violent crimes against the established Other is well-documented. Edward Said addresses the theory of the Other in Orientalism, discussing how Orientalism creates an “us versus them” dichotomy, portraying the East as a cultural and political “other” to the West, with irreconcilable differences between the two. These beliefs lead to the development of not only the now disavowed pseudoscientific concepts of eugenics and phrenology but also the academic disciplines of anthropology and psychology.
We often fail to acknowledge how the “Other” is foundational in our society, and how it has been perpetuated in this so-called “age of information.” Sometimes the fault lies at the undercollection of data, yet overcollection can sometimes become a powerful weapon of oppression.
Data Feminism, uses the example of the Allegheny County Office of Children, Youth, and Families, which aims to protect children from abuse. The collected data was based on the frequency of people using publicly funded resources, but since poorer families access these resources more often, they were overrepresented. Thus, although they specifically used these resources to take care of their family, the data made it seem as if poorer families were more abusive.
The collection of this sort of data can either make or break the policies implemented in the municipal and federal levels. In order to understand how this happens, we can look geographically and socially at anti-Black racism and the way that race-based data is collected in Canada. Referring to the collection of information about race, divided into general categories such as Black, Indigenous, white/European, or Asian, race-based data is gathered by healthcare, criminal justice, education, sectors etc. Since race-based data typically focuses on race, not ethnicity, this already brings in a layer of deficiency.
In early 20th century Alberta, race-based data was used to segregate and prevent the migration of Black farmers from Oklahoma to the prairies. Political leaders used race-based data collection, looking at the number of colored homesteaders to prevent jobs being taken away from Canadians. In another case, it led to the internment of over 700 Japanese Canadians during the Second World War. In addition to all of this, we must not forget that in the process of colonization, the Canadian government used race-based data to frame Indigenous communities through negative stereotypes. This data helped reinforce the residential school system, pass the Indian Act and display Indigenous bodies as “museum exhibits.”
However, by completely eliminating the subject of race from law enforcement, problems began to arise. In Nova Scotia, street checks were disproportionately targeting Black people. Furthermore, historically Nova Scotia has neglected minority populations, and thereby perpetuated racism. So actions were taken to appease the people and this race-specific information was only conferred after they used a race-based data pilot project that gave them something “scientific” to look at other than people’s complaints.
In recent years, the Canadian government has begun to implement race-based data collection in crime and law sectors. After the murders of Ejaz Choudry and Regis Korchinski-Paquet by police in 2020, conversations about the treatment of people of colour by law enforcement became prominent on mainstream media. Both of these cases, handled by the Special Investigation Unit (SIU), garnered the attention of the public, as people began wondering whether the SIU was working fairly and effectively to keep people safe. In theory, the SIU acts as a public service that holds the police accountable.
In the past, police brutality would lead to an internal investigation, but civil unrest in the 1960s called the police and their methods into question. Between the early 1970s and 1980, the Ontario government conducted six reviews of the police, leading to the establishment of a pilot project that allowed people to file complaints against the Toronto Police. Eventually, this became a permanent project. The final catalyst leading to the creation of the SIU and the Race Relations and Policing Task Force was two fatal shootings of black men by law enforcement.
Prior to the most recent wave of criticisms, people were already looking closely at the organization’s movements. These criticisms led to reforms over the years, namely from The Lewis Report and the Commission on Systemic Racism in the Ontario Criminal Justice System.
In the aftermath of a 1992 street riot, former Ontario NDP leader Stephen Lewis published The Lewis Report in June. He advised that the SIU be made accountable to the Attorney General, who oversees the provincial justice system, rather than the Solicitor General, who was responsible for policing. He also recommended sufficient funding for the SIU to ensure full independence in its investigations. By September 1992, the SIU was placed under the Attorney General’s oversight, though funding issues remained unresolved.
The Commission on Systemic Racism in the Ontario Criminal Justice System was formed after police shot four Black Ontarians within 50 days. They found that the SIU was ineffective in improving accountability, especially regarding police brutality. It noted that since 1978, Ontario police had shot 16 Black people, killing 10. The commission criticised the SIU’s structure and performance, pointing to inadequate funding, lack of cooperation from police, and officers’ refusal to be interviewed as major issues. It recommended legislative and regulatory changes to enforce police cooperation with SIU investigations.
The spotlight was again put on the SIU due to their role in the Black Lives Movement in Canada in 2020 by picking up Ejaz Choudry and Regis Korchinski-Paquet’s cases. People started to look a little closer, and closer… and closer. Some people began to question why so many SIU investigators were former police officers.
According to the investigation conducted by Kwame Addo and the rest of the team at the Ombudsman of Ontario in 2008, the 1992 state of the SIU “continue[s] to persist, although they may not be as overt. The lack of palpable tension between the SIU and police services in Ontario is not necessarily indicative of a healthy state.” He further stresses that this may be a place of concern because it is “more reflective of an ingrained culture of complacency than a signal that conflicts have been resolved.”
This brings us back to race-based data. The threat of data is not the data itself; it is how it is collected, who is collecting it, what it is being used for, and why. Prior to 2020, the SIU only collected data on the age and gender of the people involved in the investigation. Now, both the police and the SIU have to collect race-based data.
The police have to record race in all use-of-force reports and the SIU has to record the race “from the subject officials in its investigations, as well as affected persons.” This includes people who have died, been grievously injured, sexually assaulted, or have been the subject of a firearm discharge by an official officer. In the case of deceased individuals, their families are surveyed for the information.
Scott Wortley, a professor and researcher at the University of Toronto, says it’s good for the police to start collecting this race-based data. He found, through race-based data collection that he conducted for the Ontario Human Rights Community, that a Black person in Toronto is twenty times more likely to be shot and killed by Toronto police. By collecting and publicising this data, we can find out if the services that are supposed to be serving us are actually doing that, to hold them accountable. Activist and comedian Adora Wofor said in an interview with CBC in 2020 that the people who the data affects should be the first people the data sees. She believes that this collection opens up doors for the police to pick and choose what data they want to present and how they want to frame the context of this data. The data is recorded by the police officers themselves. They have 6 different races to pick from (see Figure 1).
Some people wonder if this data will be collected properly. Others say that the perception of a person’s race by the police officer is data in itself, and contributes to exactly what they are trying to do with this race-based data. Self-identified race is not collected; it is how the officer perceives you that affects the way they treat you.
It seems as if this data collection is being implemented in sustainable ways. For example, in Ottawa, data has shown that people of Black and Middle Eastern descent are stopped at traffic lights at disproportionately higher rates than anywhere else. After these results were publicised, the police started a multi-year action plan on diversity and inclusion. However, only time will tell the success of such interventions.
In the words of Myra Tait, an Indigenous lawyer and instructor on Indigenous justice issues at the University of Winnipeg, “If you want to collect that data, then you do it with us. And you do it for us.” The debate over race-based data collection reveals a paradox: while data has the potential to expose and address systemic injustices, its misuse can perpetuate them.
Historically, data has too often served as a tool for justifying exclusion, control, and violence against marginalised communities, as seen in Canada’s treatment of Indigenous, Black, and immigrant populations. Today, renewed efforts to collect race-based data, particularly in law enforcement, have shown both promise and risk. When collected and used transparently, data can be a powerful means of accountability. Yet such efforts must prioritise collaboration and community input. Only by empowering those affected by data practices can we ensure that this information serves justice, not oppression.
We need to demand that information be made public.
