Derogatory, Demeaning and Damning - a sad verdict on our police force.

A quote variously attributed (or maybe mis-attributed) to both George Orwell and Winston Churchill tells us that: “Men sleep peacefully in their beds at night because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.” The message is brutally clear; society and we as individuals can only be kept safe because of the actions by people in power – the police, the military, MI5/MI6, etc – and these actions are both necessary and not to be enquired into too closely for they are almost certainly illegal.

 I’ve often accepted the quote and its implications as an unfortunate but sadly necessary aspect of the real world as it is: “realpolitik” in its most brutal form. In times of war or when acts of terrorism prevail it can, I suppose, be justified as being for the greater good; actions sometimes have to be taken which we would not normally sanction or approve of. It is the logic and the moral standpoint that “justified” the waterboarding and other extreme punishments (or to use the correct word “tortures”) in places like Guantanamo Bay.

And then I read this article (Met apologises to woman for ‘sexist, derogatory’ language in strip-search | Metropolitan police | The Guardian ) and my view shifts somewhat. It no longer seems so clear cut for in reading the article I am reminded that one or two other considerations appear which, for me at least, are unsettling.

 To start with let me make my position clear. Having read the article and done a little bit of research I do not know whether the strip searching of this young academic, Dr Duff, was justified. Maybe she was unreasonably unhelpful. Maybe the police were properly operating within their remit, maybe they had very genuine concerns which, in their view, prompted and perhaps even justified their actions. Maybe there were other factors which this article does not make clear. Lots of unknowns.

 What is not unknown, however, for it was recorded, are some of the things that were said by the police officers concerned as they carried out their strip search:

“What’s that smell? Oh, it’s her knickers,”….“Is she rank?... her clothes stink”….“Didn’t find anything untoward on her, ladies?”…….“A lot of hair,” one of the female officers replies. The others laugh….“Ugh, I feel disgusting; I’m going to need a shower”….“You need fumigating.”

 Maybe many might find these sexist and grossly derogatory comments humorous or even justifiable in the given situation. I’m sure that many will simply suggest that “she got what you asked for”. Well, maybe.  Maybe this is Orwell’s alleged comment made real in all its brutality – comments planned and intended to demean, degrade and “break” someone in custody.

 Mmmmmm?

 But I’m wondering what sort of person would feel it appropriate to utter these words whatever the justification? Do they not see that in doing so they are demeaning themselves in treating another human being so? Are they not embarrassed by what they said? If these words are justified by the rules and regulations under which our police operate in these circumstances, then we are all culpable in allowing them to be so. Given the Met’s apology and payment of compensation one can only assume that the words and phrases were not appropriate or justified. That leaves only one option – they were the language and everyday responses of the very people who are supposed to uphold our society’s fabric and protect the individual from attack and harm – be it physical, verbal or mental. I cringed, embarrassed when I read them – am I unusual, naïve in not being able to laugh as the police did. Maybe I’ve led too sheltered a life, maybe I should ”get out more” – well, maybe, but deep down something tells me this is not acceptable in our society – ever.

 Sadly, I don’t believe that these officers switch on to “interview and strip search mode” and leave these darker aspects of their personality outside the police station. This is the real them. These are the jokes and one liners that make up much of their day to day conversation. One only has to sit in a pub for a few minutes, walk through a town centre, skim through the comments on Face Book or other social media platforms, watch many of the foul mouthed “comedians” on our TVs or listen to the crowd at a football match to know that foul, abusive, and derogatory language is part and parcel of everyday life for many. And, of course, in being so,  those who use it as part of their everyday communication display the real “them”. It is not a pretty sight nor is it something we should ever seek to justify or explain away.

On My Honour

Stan in uniform in 1943

When I was a child it was common to hear other kids (and me!) say “On my honour” when we were trying to convince others – usually an adult – of the truth of our actions or of events in which we had been involved. Another much used phrase with a similar meaning was “Cross my heart and hope to die”!

I mention this because today Pat and I have been scanning some old photographs and letters into our computer. The photographs and letters belonged to Pat’s parents and date from the war years and just after. They are old black and white photos of Pat’s childhood and the letters are those sent by Pat’s Dad to her Mum when he was serving abroad during the war. As we looked at the images and read the letters we were struck by the story they told of war time/post war Britain. The poignant and loving contents of the letters were a humbling tribute to the stoicism and matter of fact way that Pat’s Dad – Stan – told her Mum of his daily army life as he and his colleagues fought their way from North Africa and through the length of Italy making no reference to the dangers he must have been in and telling her how much he missed his wife and was looking forward to coming home safely at the end of the war so that they could get on with their lives.

The letters were written on pre-printed and pre-stamped sheets, tissue paper thin. Dad’s neat, tightly written script filled every little space and the sheet was marked so that it could be folded in the right place and sealed so as not to require an envelope. The army had clearly thought of everything! When folded correctly and sealed the address appeared on one side of the letter and on the reverse was a space for a statement that had to be made by the sender. As it was wartime the statement was important to ensure that no important information about the war or the army was written in the letter - military information, if included, could be valuable to the enemy. The statement on each of Stan's letters said: “I certify on my honour that the contents of this letter refer to nothing but private and family affairs” – and then Dad signed his statement underneath.

“On my honour” – how terribly old fashioned and twee those three little words sounds today in our 21st century world - but what human qualities do they conjure up and what profound principles they demand of us when we utter them. Stan died about a quarter of a century ago, a much respected, decent and above all honourable man. I have absolutely no doubts that if he were alive today he would be horrified by the lack of “honour” and “honourable behaviour” that has become part and parcel of our everyday lives. We now live in a world where pragmatism rules and the end result is all that matters and in being so qualities such as integrity or honour are easily side-lined in favour of "getting the result I want" whether it be on the sport's field, in the work place or in Parliament; the end justifies the means, not what is right or good or decent or honourable.

Our leaders, despite many being referred to as "The Right Honourable" – and especially our PM – seem to have forgotten what it is to act honourably. Or maybe in the case of Boris Johnson it seems to me more likely that he never got the gene that implants (or should implant) within us all some shred of decency and honour. It is for that reason we have lost faith in those who represent us and act on our behalf - they are no longer decent or honourable; in short, they are no longer to be respected or trusted.

Stan and Winnie with their
family in 1951

But being honourable is not an old fashioned concept and of no further use in our brash modern world for without it all society and we as individuals are much weakened. Acting honourably is not just about grandiose action or great moral principles and promises such the knights of old abided by. Nor does it only apply to the great and the good such as our politicians. It is far more to do with the simpler qualities of living a "good life": being honest, telling the truth, doing the best job you can, being a good neighbour, colleague or friend, being fair, acting correctly on behalf of yourself and others.......the list is endless. When we visit the doctor I guess most of us hope and expect that he/she will act in our best interests - be thorough, abide by the rules and standards expected to make us well. When we climb on a bus we hope that the driver will take care and do his best to drive us safely to our destination. When we send our children to school we demand that the teacher acts in our child's best interest and does the very best he or she can for our son or daughter. And when we turn to the police, the ambulance driver, our MP, our neighbour, our local vicar, or a myriad of others and seek their help and advice we trust them hope they will give us good advice, be honest, be fair, do the right thing - in short, act honourably. When we stop acting honourably, decently or honestly all trust disappears; the law of the jungle takes hold, and society is on a slippery slope down. It is the human quality and principle that men like Stan went off to war to fight for.

Maybe I’m just a grumpy old man – but I still think that when I’m dead and gone I’d prefer to be remembered as an honourable man rather than a famous man or a rich man or a good looking man or a successful man. All these shallow and inconsequential qualities that so many aspire to in our celebrity obsessed world of today are false gods ; Stan's letters and his life bore witness to that.