BLM seems to bring out some false either/or arguments. Either you respect and support the police, Or you want bad cops punished. That’s not an either/or; that must be a both. It is not possible to respect and support the police if they accept and protect bad cops. Rejecting bad cops, and demanding that bad cops face criminal investigation and are tried in court just like any other person is a sign of respect for the police.
I was a member of the Wellington Civil Defence Police Unit for about a year, when it was formed and until it died of lack of interest (from the police mainly). The unit was set up with the objective of creating a cadre of semi-trained individuals who would be able to man (person?) cordons in the case of an earthquake or other emergency. We were sworn constables, and took an oath to server her majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second of New Zealand. We were issued warrant cards, and in the event of the declaration of a civil defence emergency, we assumed the full powers and authorities of a police constable. Really, the idea could best be summed up with an image: a constable can control about 40 meters of frontage of a collapsed or damaged buildings, but with one CD Police constable under his/her supervision, suddenly that distance doubles. Crowd control and traffic management are critical in an emergency, and having sworn (and trained) constables available is critical.
As a member of the unit, I would spend on shift per month with active police. One time this included spending a Sunday evening with a couple of constables in a police car. Two young men, probably 25 – 30 years old. Mostly it was a boring evening, except for two events.
The first was a call over the radio saying that a gang needed to be shut down at x location. Now I do not remember the radio traffic, but sure enough, lights on and noise, and we rushed across downtown Wellington, to arrive at a side road off Tinakori Ave. There were three other police cars there, blue lights on but the sound off. There were a number of Polynesia street people who were being, shall we say, manhandled; shoved against walls, held up by their shirt fronts with backs to the wall, police faces inches from theirs.
My gut feeling was that there were a whole lot of civil rights being violated. I kept my mouth shut.
Once the situation settled down, and the gang types dispersed, we got back in the squad car and off we went for a cup of coffee.
I asked the “plods” what just happened.
“Well”, they said, “there are a few rival gangs in town; some Samoan, some Maori, others Tongan. They do not get on, and while the most they have are sticks and maybe a cricket bat, they do try to beat the snot out of each other. Their favourite trick is to have one of their young ladies stand on a street corner where they know the Maori boys will pass, and entice them to follow her. Once she has inveigled the victims into the alley, the rest of the gang comes out and beat the crap of the poor victim.”
The police had received a report from a civilian that it looked like they were up to their old game, and the police came down on them like a ton of bricks, to use the expression.
The two police I was with explained this all to me, and while I nodded, I have to say that I was a bit perturbed by it all. This was a pretty blatant disregard for their rights, and grabbing someone by their shirt-front and banging them against a wall can hardly be considered “community policing”. I kept my mouth shut.
About an hour later, we received a call to attend a burglary.
Off we went, and when we arrived, the burglary, of course, was not in progress but had been reported by the occupants on their return to the city after a weekend away.
The two police blokes (they most certainly were blokes) inspected the scene, took notes, and then sat down with the owners, and took all the details they could. The owners had been away, and returned earlier in the evening. Things did not seem right at home, and the more they looked, the clearer it was that they had been burgled.
These two blokes were the picture of respect and compassion, with a fair amount of professional courtesy included. The victims, a lesbian couple, were distraught, yet trusted these two blokes who were there, as official representatives of the state and police forces.
I was taken aback. Not two hours earlier I had watched them as participants in what appeared to be a violation of civil rights (in the pursuit of avoiding a vicious attack and breaking up the plot early), and now they were the very picture of the sympathetic arm of justice doing what they could for victims.
There were too many nuances in that one shift for me. One lesson was clear, however:
We ask Police to be both the protectors of law, de-escalators, sympathetic to victims, yet also the visible and powerful arm of society in halting or avoiding violence. My respect for the police increased immeasurably that evening. These two blokes, that’s what they were, were Power Projected to stop violence from happening, and there will the soft-spoken, almost consoling voice of authority promising that they would do what they could to reduce the suffering of those wronged, a couple who were the antithesis of what they as good Kiwi Blokes has been taught to respect.
I can and do have the highest respect for the police. Their job is full of contradictions and is terribly difficult. Yet I also have no place for those who have learned that there is pleasure in exercising their power to oppress. The difficulty is in seeing when one turns into the other. The first situation I witnessed could have spiralled out of control, but it didn’t through the professionalism of the police. There was a situation of direct threat to the public, and the stomped on it. Civil rights were, um, put to one side for the moment, because the police knew the pattern that was playing out, and they said: “not tonight”.
So, I respect and support the police. Yet that does not in any way reduce my expectation, no, demand, that police who betray the trust and their authority must be stamped out, and must face justice. I’ve seen how it can and should work. I respect and trust the police. I demand criminals be removed from the police force. There is no contradiction.
I was a member of the Wellington Civil Defence Police Unit for about a year, when it was formed and until it died of lack of interest (from the police mainly). The unit was set up with the objective of creating a cadre of semi-trained individuals who would be able to man (person?) cordons in the case of an earthquake or other emergency. We were sworn constables, and took an oath to server her majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second of New Zealand. We were issued warrant cards, and in the event of the declaration of a civil defence emergency, we assumed the full powers and authorities of a police constable. Really, the idea could best be summed up with an image: a constable can control about 40 meters of frontage of a collapsed or damaged buildings, but with one CD Police constable under his/her supervision, suddenly that distance doubles. Crowd control and traffic management are critical in an emergency, and having sworn (and trained) constables available is critical.
As a member of the unit, I would spend on shift per month with active police. One time this included spending a Sunday evening with a couple of constables in a police car. Two young men, probably 25 – 30 years old. Mostly it was a boring evening, except for two events.
The first was a call over the radio saying that a gang needed to be shut down at x location. Now I do not remember the radio traffic, but sure enough, lights on and noise, and we rushed across downtown Wellington, to arrive at a side road off Tinakori Ave. There were three other police cars there, blue lights on but the sound off. There were a number of Polynesia street people who were being, shall we say, manhandled; shoved against walls, held up by their shirt fronts with backs to the wall, police faces inches from theirs.
My gut feeling was that there were a whole lot of civil rights being violated. I kept my mouth shut.
Once the situation settled down, and the gang types dispersed, we got back in the squad car and off we went for a cup of coffee.
I asked the “plods” what just happened.
“Well”, they said, “there are a few rival gangs in town; some Samoan, some Maori, others Tongan. They do not get on, and while the most they have are sticks and maybe a cricket bat, they do try to beat the snot out of each other. Their favourite trick is to have one of their young ladies stand on a street corner where they know the Maori boys will pass, and entice them to follow her. Once she has inveigled the victims into the alley, the rest of the gang comes out and beat the crap of the poor victim.”
The police had received a report from a civilian that it looked like they were up to their old game, and the police came down on them like a ton of bricks, to use the expression.
The two police I was with explained this all to me, and while I nodded, I have to say that I was a bit perturbed by it all. This was a pretty blatant disregard for their rights, and grabbing someone by their shirt-front and banging them against a wall can hardly be considered “community policing”. I kept my mouth shut.
About an hour later, we received a call to attend a burglary.
Off we went, and when we arrived, the burglary, of course, was not in progress but had been reported by the occupants on their return to the city after a weekend away.
The two police blokes (they most certainly were blokes) inspected the scene, took notes, and then sat down with the owners, and took all the details they could. The owners had been away, and returned earlier in the evening. Things did not seem right at home, and the more they looked, the clearer it was that they had been burgled.
These two blokes were the picture of respect and compassion, with a fair amount of professional courtesy included. The victims, a lesbian couple, were distraught, yet trusted these two blokes who were there, as official representatives of the state and police forces.
I was taken aback. Not two hours earlier I had watched them as participants in what appeared to be a violation of civil rights (in the pursuit of avoiding a vicious attack and breaking up the plot early), and now they were the very picture of the sympathetic arm of justice doing what they could for victims.
There were too many nuances in that one shift for me. One lesson was clear, however:
We ask Police to be both the protectors of law, de-escalators, sympathetic to victims, yet also the visible and powerful arm of society in halting or avoiding violence. My respect for the police increased immeasurably that evening. These two blokes, that’s what they were, were Power Projected to stop violence from happening, and there will the soft-spoken, almost consoling voice of authority promising that they would do what they could to reduce the suffering of those wronged, a couple who were the antithesis of what they as good Kiwi Blokes has been taught to respect.
I can and do have the highest respect for the police. Their job is full of contradictions and is terribly difficult. Yet I also have no place for those who have learned that there is pleasure in exercising their power to oppress. The difficulty is in seeing when one turns into the other. The first situation I witnessed could have spiralled out of control, but it didn’t through the professionalism of the police. There was a situation of direct threat to the public, and the stomped on it. Civil rights were, um, put to one side for the moment, because the police knew the pattern that was playing out, and they said: “not tonight”.
So, I respect and support the police. Yet that does not in any way reduce my expectation, no, demand, that police who betray the trust and their authority must be stamped out, and must face justice. I’ve seen how it can and should work. I respect and trust the police. I demand criminals be removed from the police force. There is no contradiction.
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