TELEGRAPH 6.12.08
Damian Green arrest shows police is loyal to their political masters
By Philip Johnston
When three police officers came knocking at Brett Duxfield's door at
8am, he could not imagine what he had done wrong. The 39-year-old
Hartlepool lorry driver was arrested, taken to the police station,
questioned and kept in the cells for 10 hours. His alleged crime?
Lighting a bonfire on the village green in Elwick, where he used to
live. On Bonfire Night.
It turned out that this breached an ancient, but recently revived, by-
law. So he was charged with arson, for which the maximum penalty is
life in prison.
This kind of disproportionate reaction is becoming something of a
habit for the police. When Inspector Tony Green, of Cleveland Police,
announced, "We are duty-bound to follow a complaint through", he was
using almost exactly the same words as the Metropolitan Police did to
justify arresting Damian Green, the Tories' front-bench spokesman on
immigration, as well as searching his offices, seizing his computer,
rifling through his private papers and freezing his email account.
Since when were the police "duty-bound" to behave like this? In what
way does "following a complaint through" require three police
officers to arrest someone who may have acted anti-socially, detain
him for 10 hours and charge him with an offence that was once a
capital crime?
Or a dozen more, attached to the anti-terrorist command, to invade
the offices and property of an MP - or anyone else - without
obtaining a warrant, in the investigation of what was pretty
obviously a disciplinary rather than a criminal matter?
Sir Paul Stephenson, the acting commissioner of the Met, claims: "The
police must be able to act without fear or favour in any
investigation, whomsoever may be involved, where there are reasonable
grounds to suspect they may have committed criminal offences."
But that is not the point. It is not why they acted, but how they
acted. The police now promote a relatively new doctrine: that when
they are engaged in an investigation, they have the absolute freedom
to do as they see fit and pursue it to the bitter end, provided that
it is covered by the provisions of the Police and Criminal Evidence
Act 1984.
Like the rest of the public sector, they are governed entirely by
procedure, with no room for discretion - or common sense.
To some extent, of course, they must follow that path, because to
stray is to risk having a case thrown out. One reason that the Pace
(Police and Criminal Evidence) Act was introduced was that the police
used not to follow any rules at all.
In the late Seventies and early Eighties, there was a series of
scandals involving the alleged fabrication of evidence against
criminals and terrorists, a problem compounded by the fact that
police officers acted as prosecutors in magistrates' courts and
framed the charges against suspects.
The objective of Pace, according to the Home Office, was "to
encourage effective policing with the consent and co-operation of
society at large". Yet far from reconnecting the police with the
community, it has served, along with the creation of a culture based
on targets rather than crime-stopping, to alienate the police from
the people they now refer to as "customers".
Why, if there are more officers than ever, do we feel we hardly ever
see them on the streets? Why are police stations too far away, closed
at night or shut down altogether? Why, when the police tell
householders not to tackle burglars, but to dial 999 and await the
officers' arrival, are they are greeted with a hollow laugh?
An institution that a few years ago was held in public esteem is now
derided, even feared. There is a feeling that the police are not on
our side. And this is largely the fault of some of the country's most
prominent senior officers.
Sir Ian Blair, the recently retired commissioner of the Metropolitan
Police, personified the type that has risen through the ranks since
the Seventies: he - and very often, she - is usually university-
educated or with a degree in law or criminology obtained after
joining the force. He or she is also far more political (as well as
politically correct).
Police chiefs have supported every encroachment on civil liberties:
the expansion of the DNA database to include innocent people, ruled
unlawful this week by the European Court of Human Rights; the
increase of detention without charge to 90 days and then, when that
was rejected, to 42 days, despite clear parliamentary opposition; the
extension of summary powers to arrest and fine on the spot; bans on
happy hours, ID cards and many more.
It is commonplace at Home Office press conferences to find a senior
police officer adding his imprimatur to a policy announcement. This
would once have been unheard of: the police are there to uphold the
laws passed by Parliament, not to act as an arm of the Government.
But the demands on forces are such that chief officers see themselves
more as executives, running large organisations that have the Home
Office as their primary client. Critics believe this rewards caution
and conformity.
Senior officers even feel emboldened to join in the political debate.
As the Damian Green affair unfolded this week, Ken Jones, the
president of the Association of Chief Police Officers, said his
colleagues shared the Home Office's concern about leaks from the
department.
"The police service always strives to operate in the broader public
interest, and not in the interests of any political party, group or
government. This is an increasingly difficult task for the service,
but it is not one we will shirk."
Why did Mr Jones feel it necessary to intervene in a constitutional
matter that was none of his business? And why has it become
"increasingly difficult" to act in the wider public interest?
One police chief believes officers are trapped between a welter of
centralised political initiatives and unrealistic public
expectations. "It is easy to blame the police," he says, "and
sometimes we get it wrong. But there is a wider problem of change,
and unrealistic and insatiable expectations."
There are some who believe that what the police need is not less
political control, but more - and for it to be local. Douglas
Carswell, the Tory MP for Harwich and Clacton, has proposed the
creation of a network of directly elected Justice Commissioners, who
would determine policing priorities for every county and large town
in England and Wales.
Home Office targets would be scrapped, and it would be up to each
commissioner to set priorities.
"The public are losing confidence in the criminal justice system,"
says Mr Carswell. "Even the Government's own advisers now recognise
that people no longer feel that the criminal justice system is on
their side. Imagine if you could determine the priorities of the
police where you live, and hold your local police chiefs to account."
Whatever the merits of this proposal, there is a growing consensus -
to which many officers subscribe - that the police have lost their
way, and that a serious look is needed at how they operate and what
is expected of them. The British tradition is of policing with
consent; if the public fear or despise their protectors, that will be
damaged.
In a lecture last year, Sir Ian Blair claimed the country had to be
clear about what it wants from the police - to fight crime, or fight
its causes; to help build stronger communities, or to undertake zero
tolerance?
"The silence can no longer continue," he said. "The citizens of
Britain now have to articulate what kind of police service they
want." For once, he was right.
The last big debate on policing was in 1960, when a Royal Commission
recommended the structure with which we are familiar today. Perhaps
it is time for another.
Sunday, 7 December 2008
Posted by Britannia Radio at 11:25