The balance of power is moving against us

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There is a lot of unease about the way in which the government and police forces are extending the use of Live Facial Recognition technology, using it at a range of events to pick out people who are suspected of committing an unrelated crime in unrelated circumstances. There is a lot of good evidence to suggest that, in its current state, the technology is prone to bias: having largely been trained on white male faces, for instance, it is less effective at correctly identifying faces of a different colour or gender. There’s no reason why, with time and effort, using a wider range of faces to retrain the software, that bias can’t be overcome; on a rational basis, the undoubted bias is more a reason for caution in rushing to apply the technology than for rejecting it.

Proponents claim that no law-abiding citizen has anything to fear from the technology in itself; it’s merely an example of police forces using the latest techniques to improve their record of apprehending criminals and suspected criminals. Again, it’s a rational position to take: who wouldn’t want the police to use the best and most effective methods and technology to reduce crime and its impact?

None of that removes the unease, however. Part of that is a fear of how the data could be misused: recording who was at which event on a giant database could enable authorities to put together a lot of information about the movements of individuals who have never been suspected of anything. It doesn’t have to be used that way, of course – but there is a natural and, on the basis of experience, not wholly unreasonable lack of trust about governments and police forces. Even if there are rules and regulations governing the recording and retention of data about the movements of individuals who are, at the time, of no interest to the police, how certain do we feel that the authorities will keep to those rules? And never be tempted to trawl back through old recordings and images?

The underlying issue is about the relationship between the citizen and the state. Theoretically, the principle of democracy is that the state is there to serve the citizens, but the practical truth is that the state has always served, primarily, the interests which control it. That was bad enough when the capacity of the state to control and surveil was limited by the capacity of the state’s forces, primarily manpower. But when backed up by what is, for a finite population within a defined geographical area, a virtually limitless capacity to store data, the balance of power shifts significantly. With both the traditional ‘main’ parties having fallen under authoritarian leaders, who are becoming more so in the belief that that is what Farage’s prospective voters want, the idea of the state as the protector of citizens, rather than the controller of walking economic resources, is fast receding.

The question we face is a simple one: in the interests of preventing crime and apprehending those who commit it, how much extra power to monitor and record the movements and activities of all of us – criminals and non-criminals alike – are we prepared to cede to the state? I fear that the trade-off isn’t being well understood, but if we don’t think about it now, it gets harder to see how any new use of technology will ever be rolled back at some future point.

A convenient lie

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One of the convenient lies we are told on a regular basis is that governments and politicians make the laws, but the way in which those laws are enforced is ‘an operational matter’, entirely in the hands of individual police forces, who set their own priorities when it comes to using the limited resources allocated to them by those same governments and politicians. Thus it was parliament, at the behest of the Home Secretary, which declared that showing any sort of support for Palestine Action was itself a terrorist act, punishable by up to 14 years in prison, but it was the Metropolitan Police who decided that this was such a high priority that it justified arresting over 500 people, many of them for doing little more than holding up a placard, and then bailing them on suspicion of terrorism.

Maybe the Home Secretary, an authoritarian to her fingernails, didn’t actually tell the Met that she wanted the maximum number of arrests to be made. Maybe she didn’t even give them the odd nod and wink about her expectations. Perhaps her expectations were already clear enough for the police to ‘know’ what they needed to do. But there are now two possible outcomes. The first is that the authorities really will charge most or all of those people with terrorism, adding to the courts backlog in order to hear cases, most of which will, at huge public expense, end up with a minor fine or even a discharge given the pettiness of the ‘offences’. The second is that they will, rather more wisely, simply drop all further action to avoid a situation where they look like the complete idiots they have made of themselves.

It's possible, of course, that the police have deliberately been heavy-handed in order to expose the ridiculous nature of the law that they are being expected to enforce, in the hope that the government will back off and allow them to get back to dealing with proper crime. That does, though, require rather more cunning and Machiavellianism than the Met are usually known for. And, in any event, Occam’s Razor applies.

There is little doubt as to the guilt of those holding up placards, although that says more about the silliness of the law than the actions of the protesters or the police. In the meantime, it means that the police have released more than 500 suspected terrorists, each of whom has committed an offence carrying a custodial sentence of up to 14 years, onto the streets of the UK to continue their nefarious activities. We are expected to believe two things at the same time: firstly that these are dangerous terrorists who deserve to be locked up for a very long time, and secondly that it is safe to allow them to roam the country. A rational and sensible government might stop and think about the course they are following, but we’re more likely to see them doubling down on the rhetoric. As well as seeing more protests and more arrests. I suppose it’s what the UK deserves for electing an authoritarian and illiberal government.

Blurring the lines isn't firm action

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Terrorism, like some perverse form of beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. The term, ‘La terreur’, was first used during the French revolution, when it was very much a state-sponsored method of terrifying a population into submission and acceptance. It underlines the fact that there is no clear, generally-accepted definition of the term – a huge advantage for politicians since it means that they can define it any way they choose. Governments tend to use the word as a catch-all for almost anything of which they disapprove, an approach which leads to Putin using the term to justify his war in Ukraine, and Sir Starmer using it to describe a few people who try and give a new coat of paint to a couple of military aircraft. Whether that latter action actually ‘terrified’ anyone is a moot point, but it doesn’t really matter; once something has been officially defined as terrorism, almost any action is apparently justified in dealing with it.

One of the more alarming aspects of the government’s decision to proscribe a single pro-Palestine organisation is the way in which the police now seem to be extending the definition of terrorism to include anyone who supports the same aims as the proscribed organisation itself. Effectively, they’ve started arresting people (and detaining them under the more stringent conditions relating to terrorism rather than the more usual conditions for other types of crime) for declaring their support for the idea of a Palestinian state, rather than only for outright support for the proscribed organisation. Maybe individual police officers have been inadequately briefed about exactly what the law does or does not permit, but it’s hard to believe that different forces in different parts of the UK would independently have come to such a similar conclusion – which suggests at least implicit encouragement from the government.

There are probably few who would quibble with the principle of proscription as a tool to deal with an organisation taking violent action causing death or injury to citizens in an attempt to force a particular change in policy (although not quibbling with the principle isn’t the same as believing that it’s an effective approach). It ought to be possible, though, in a semi-democracy like the UK to debate when and under what conditions such a sanction should be applied and to question the way in which that sanction is then policed. The government, however, seems determined to close down any such discussion.

War, with all its accompanying death and destruction, invariably ‘radicalises’ people, to use a term generally used pejoratively these days. The horrific war in Gaza is just one example. Whether it’s always the bad thing as which it is presented is another question which they don’t want to debate. The second world war radicalised a generation of people in the UK, and the immediate post-war Labour government under Clem Attlee channelled that into making some of the most significant changes the UK has ever seen. I can’t help but wonder whether the instinctive reaction of the current day Labour Party under Sir Starmer would have been, more likely, to criminalise and imprison those who had been radicalised. Few people in the UK actually support ‘real’ terrorism, but forever extending the definition of the term blurs the lines. It might look like firm action, but it is likely to make enforcement harder rather than easier.

Reaching for the Golden Oldies

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If there’s one sure sign that a Prime Minister thinks he or she is sailing in troubled waters, it’s when he or she reaches out for the Golden Oldies. And there are few Oldies quite as Golden as the mantra about ‘more bobbies on the beat’ which is, apparently, Starmer’s topic of the day. It’s a well-played tune, previously deployed by Rishi Sunak, Liz Truss, Boris Johnson, Theresa May, David Cameron, Gordon Brown, Tony Blair, and John Major. I’m pretty sure that I remember it from Thatcher and Callaghan as well, although the online fossil record is harder to follow from such primitive times.

There are another two certainties which follow on from any promise to increase the numbers of police on patrol. The first is that it won’t happen. And the second is that it would make little difference, even if it did. Crime is a complex phenomenon, which has no one simple cause, and whilst seeing more police walking around, preferably armed at least with tasers and big batons, appeals to a certain electoral demographic (a demographic which obviously suffers from a combination of short memory and gullibility), there is no real evidence that it makes a huge difference to the volume of crime – and it may not even be the best way of using any additional resources which can be dedicated to policing. As one anonymous police source put it, “We’d rather take the money with no strings attached and invest in other things”.

One report on Sir Starmer’s anticipated pearls says that the measures are being introduced amid “fears there is a lack of visible police presence which is driving street crime and in turn more serious and violent offences”. It’s utter nonsense, of course. Lack of visible policing doesn’t ‘drive’ crime, it merely makes it marginally easier to commit. The ‘drivers’ of crime are many and varied, but include drug abuse, greed, poverty and desperation, to say nothing of crimes of passion. There was once a politician who promised to be “tough on crime, tough on the causes of crime”, but when he got into office, he discovered that the second was too difficult and would require too much effort, and the first was more easily addressed by empty rhetoric than actual action. Still, empty rhetoric makes for a good chorus line in a golden oldie.

Is lack of imagination also to become a crime?

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It’s a funny old world. Prior to this morning, I would have been hard pressed to think of any circumstances in which cabinet ministers would find themselves obliged to take to the airwaves to issue reassurances that people would not be arrested because they were a bit smelly. But then I would also have found it difficult to imagine circumstances in which a UK government would actually write down draft legislation which enabled the police to arrest anyone who ponged a bit. The current government have excelled themselves (and rendered satire irrelevant) by doing both. They haven’t so much lost the plot as torn it up, put the pieces through a shredder and come up with a new plot line so utterly incredible that the relevant authorities must have assumed it was an early parody for April 1st and published it as though it were a genuine parliamentary Bill, chuckling quietly as they did so. The problem is – it is real, very real.

For anyone who gives it more than a moment’s thought, homelessness is a complex issue with no single or simple cause. But the idea of giving anything a ‘moment’s thought’ is a major problem for members of the twenty-first century Tory Party, for whom what passes as thought processes are currently rather more reminiscent of chickens after suffering an unfortunate incident with an axe. It’s just a few months ago that Suella Braverman brought opprobrium down on her head by suggesting homelessness was simply a lifestyle choice, a statement which opposition parties – to say nothing of charities working in the field – were quick to criticise. She probably saw that reaction as a plus, polishing her already substantial credentials as one of the nastiest people ever to have been elected to parliament. It’s not entirely impossible that a thorough survey of all rough sleepers might indeed find one or two who prefer to live that way, but the idea that it’s the norm is as divorced from reality as Braverman herself. Clearly, mental health issues are also part of the problem, but even that isn’t straightforward – those issues themselves are often the result of a range of other factors. Inadequate levels of benefit are another. Lack of suitable housing, in the right places and at an affordable cost are also part of the mix (although it’s easy to understand why people who think that £100,000 a year is difficult to live on might struggle to understand the abject level of poverty in which some end up living).

Any government which was serious about tackling rough sleeping and homelessness would be looking at all those factors and identifying methods and resources to tackle them, rather than treating the people involved as just a nuisance to be criminalised and dealt with by the police. Those resources aren’t always simply financial either, although properly funding services would inevitably be a part of any solution. But criminalising people isn’t a zero cost option either: it requires time and effort from the police and the criminal justice system, two more services already under considerable stress.

Perhaps they’re privy to some private polling data or focus group outcomes which have led them to believe that creating a new offence of being malodorous whilst in possession of a sleeping bag, and issuing all police officers with official smell-o-meters to objectively assess the pong factor, will net them millions of votes which might otherwise go to that Farage chappie’s party. And if they have, then they may also have a list of other things which they’ll get round to criminalising, given half a chance. The first part of that seems unlikely to me, although the idea that they’ll find a way of criminalising anyone who doesn’t vote Tory is no longer as absurd as it should be. But then what do I know? I am clearly insufficiently imaginative: I never imagined that anyone would seriously attempt to criminalise BO.

What does a police state look like?

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The more we read about the police handling of protesters associated with the coronation, the worse things get. After arresting people taking part in an anti-monarchy protest the details of which had been agreed in advance with the police force, it then emerged that, the previous night, they had arrested three women’s safety volunteers who were wearing hi-vis jackets with the Metropolitan Police logo on them who were taking part in a scheme run in partnership with the police to hand out rape alarms to vulnerable women. Today, it has emerged that they also managed to arrest a fervent monarchist who was handcuffed and then held for 13 hours, for the inadvertent ‘crime’ of standing too close to Just Stop Oil protesters. There was even a report that one person had been arrested for being in possession of a piece of string, although the length of the piece of string remains, as is ever the case, unknown. One common thread running through it all is the utter failure to talk to or listen to those arrested, with the police preferring to simply incarcerate them for hours before attempting to establish any facts.

If I were a conspiracy theorist, I might be tempted to believe that this was all entirely deliberate on the part of the Metropolitan Police, in an attempt to undermine the new laws by showing just how stupid and arbitrary they are. Sadly, however, given the Met’s record in recent years, I just don’t believe that they are clever enough to do that, and we have to look for other explanations. Such as incompetence, lack of co-ordination and communication, authoritarianism, and a desire to please their political masters. Somewhat surprisingly, they seem to have achieved the last of those: government ministers seem to be queuing up to declare how wonderful it is that the Met took a firm line in arresting people, and seem to be not in the least embarrassed that some of those arrested – maybe even all of them – had done nothing which justified charging them with any criminal offence, even under the new open-ended anti-protest laws which were rushed in in time for the coronation.

And that underlines where the real blame lies. The Met deserve – and are getting – a lot of criticism for their approach, but the real culprit here is a government which is determined to stamp out the traditional right to protest in the UK. It appears that there is now no form of protest which is permissible if the police decide otherwise, even if the details are agreed with the police in advance. Worse, it isn’t even ‘the police’ as a whole who make that decision, or even individual police forces; power has been given to individual police officers to decide for themselves what behaviour they will or will not allow, and to arrest and detain anyone who does something that they don't like. That looks like a classic definition of a police state to me, yet that’s where we’ve got to. And the official opposition can’t even decide whether it wants to reverse the process. Wales really can do better for itself.

Protecting MPs involves more than sentry duty for one hour a fortnight

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There’s a story about a man living in a remote house who spots two burglars entering his shed. He immediately phones the police, telling them that, if they’re quick, they can catch the two burglars red-handed. This being austerity Britain, he gets the inevitable response that there are no police officers available to respond. He waits ten minutes, then calls again. This time he tells them that he saw two burglars entering his shed so took his shotgun out and that, after shooting one of them, the other is now cowering in the shed. Within minutes, three police cars full of armed officers pull up outside his house and a police helicopter is circling overhead. “You told us you’d shot someone”, said the senior police officer on the scene, after failing to find any evidence of a corpse. The householder replied, “And you told me that there was no-one available”.

The point, of course, is that any under-resourced police force is always going to have to prioritise which calls it answers – and the result is that the police simply no long respond to a growing number of crimes, as many victims of burglary or car theft palmed off with a crime number for insurance purposes will readily attest.

It is, of course, right that MPs going about their business meeting constituents should be properly protected (although I can’t help but observe that some of the politicians shouting the loudest about the need for protection following a single fatality are the same people who tell us that between 800 and 1000 preventable premature Covid deaths each week for the last two months, and for the currently foreseeable future, is an ‘acceptable’ price to pay: all lives matter, but some, it seems, matter more than others). The question, though, is what the police will not do to enable them to divert resources to protecting MPs. It isn’t as simple as having a policeman on duty at a fortnightly hour-long constituency surgery, which is the way it has been largely presented. Surgeries may be one of the easiest ways of gaining access to an MP, but if someone is determined to murder an MP there are plenty of other opportunities.  Considering only surgeries looks like a tokenistic response. Providing sufficient coverage of all possible attack opportunities for 650 MPs (and then, what about MSs, MSPs, and MLAs, the inclusion of which would add significantly to the requirement?) would probably need a couple of thousand full time officers, allowing for 7 day working, holidays, sickness etc.

I wouldn’t argue that MPs should not receive a suitable level of protection, but it is entirely reasonable to ask two questions: firstly whether the resources required would be additional to those currently available, and secondly, if not, which other policing activities will be deprioritised as a result. Pretending that a significant additional responsibility can be loaded onto already overstretched police resources is just dishonest. I don’t believe that most people would begrudge the provision of appropriate protection to elected public servants, but withdrawing from even more police activities supporting local communities might be a good way of changing that. The response needs to be rather more nuanced than the knee-jerk reaction we’ve seen to date.

Saturday was not just a one-off 'mistake'

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Throughout the pandemic, there have been regular calls from some for the police to be more pro-active against those breaking the coronavirus rules, demanding a crackdown with more fines and arrests. On Saturday, the Metropolitan Police gave us a clear demonstration of what a crackdown looks like. Suddenly, it seems that some of those previously egging the police on to do more to enforce the rules aren’t quite so sure – or, rather, they want to apply different rules to different groups and causes. Clearly the police could and should have adopted a different approach to the proposed vigil and worked with the organisers to ensure that the event could take place in as safe a way as possible; the flat refusal to do so underlines a degree of incompetence and lack of empathy which is hard to understand. But on what basis do we expect the police to distinguish between, say, a beach party and a vigil, both of which involve an assembly of a greater number of people than is permitted under current legislation? That is not to argue that there is some sort of equivalence there; clearly there is not. But distinguishing between the two involves the application of values and judgement, and there is a real question as to whether the police are the best people to make that call, particularly if their role is defined simply as ‘upholding the law’.

Differential application of the law is, of course, one of those traditional British values of which politicians are so fond, although that isn’t the way they usually describe it. In practice, Lady Justice has never been as unseeing as the blindfold she traditionally wears might lead us to believe. Being part of the ruling elite has long bestowed a degree of indemnity – the Covid rules applied to Cummings were clearly not the same rules being applied to others, to quote just one recent example, and there was never the same expectation that someone like him should abide by the rules. It hasn’t always been as blatant or rampant as it has become since England elected a fundamentally dishonest man as its Prime Minister. Previous regimes haven’t always been as confident about what they could get away with, but the current regime seems to be pushing at an open door. The new Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Bill currently wending its way through parliament actively seeks to extend police powers to decide what is or is not ‘acceptable’ behaviour, including criminalising any assembly of people which causes “serious annoyance”, effectively giving the police on the spot the power to decide the meaning of both ‘serious’ and ‘annoyance’. They are targeting dissent and opposition.

For many of us, Saturday’s events underline the need for policing in a democracy to be based first and foremost on consent and a sense of social solidarity; but the current government is taking us in a completely different direction, where policing is seen as enforcement of rules by whatever means are necessary. To them, Saturday will look simply like a one-off mistake, rather than a problem with the approach. If they come under enough pressure, a sacrificial head might roll to protect other more culpable heads, but they won’t see it as a reason to change their approach. The question is whether, and to what extent, people at large go along with that view. The way in which so many have been calling for the police to be more heavy-handed in other circumstances is not exactly a cause for optimism. Wales doesn’t have to follow England on this, but following England towards becoming an authoritarian state is precisely what will happen if we don’t take control of our own future.

Only watching the plebs

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According to Peter Hain, it is “constitutionally an outrage” that Special Branch continued to keep files on him and 9 other MPs after they were elected to the House of Commons.  It seems to me that he’s outraged about the wrong thing here.

There will always be different opinions about whether, and to what extent, the security services should be keeping an eye on what political groups are doing.  Personally, I think it’s outrageous that they should ever do so unless they have clearly evidenced grounds for suspicion of criminal activity.  Others will disagree; and I accept that.  But using that definition, I really don’t see why anyone’s status as an MP should affect that.

If there’s suspicion that an MP is involved in criminal activity (and recent events over expenses etc. surely prove that MPs are no different to the rest of the population in this regard), then why should they be exempt from the attention of the security services? 

The real outrage here is that any MP should apparently think that it’s OK for the security services to keep files on anyone they like - except MPs.  One rule for them, and another rule for everyone else.  His call for the enquiry to look specifically at the surveillance of MPs misses the point entirely; it’s the fact of the surveillance being undertaken at all which needs review, not who was being watched.

Democratic centralism?

Tweet One of the proposals from the Silk Report part two was that policing should be devolved to Wales.  It’s a proposal which makes eminent sense, by putting all three emergency services under the same government.  (I’m not sure why the fourth emergency service – the Coast Guard – was not also included, though, particularly given the recent concerns over the downgrading of that service in Wales.)

Devolution of policing, however, is one of those areas where an apparent “decentralisation” will probably turn out to be centralisation in disguise.  Whilst one of the police commissioners has already started the defence of his turf, it seems inevitable to me that passing policing to the Welsh government will eventually result in the merger of the four police forces into one single national force.  It’s one of those curious proposals which a number of Welsh politicians will instinctively oppose when suggested by London, but support if proposed from Cardiff.  What’s a little inconsistency between friends?

As a general rule, I tend to oppose the centralising tendencies of our AMs in Cardiff, but in the case of the police, the lines drawn between forces, and the geographical areas covered, have little to do with localism; and there is no real democratic accountability to be taken away.  I’d like to hope, though, that the Welsh government will think a lot more laterally about policing than simply creating a single national version of what we currently have. 

Why is “policing” seen as necessarily being a single whole rather than a diverse series of different functions which don’t all need to be run in the same way?  A single unified police force doesn’t seem to be the norm elsewhere; it’s only the norm here in the UK because of the way it’s developed over time.

In the US for instance, the Highway Patrol, local sheriff’s office, state police, and FBI are completely separate organisations, enabling a degree of local democratic control where appropriate, and the development of more central and flexible expertise in other fields.  What about using a bit more imagination in Wales by looking at a much more localised approach to some aspects of policing on a similar model?  That would do more to protect and enhance local democracy than treating the existing police areas as though they were set in stone.

The devolution of policing may not happen any time soon, listening to the mood music from London; but it will happen at some point.  Once we accept that, the significant issue is not whether we have the powers, but what we do with them.

Just sleeping?

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The closer we get to election day for the new Police and Crime Commissioners, the less well thought through the whole process seems to have been.

The government had expressed a strong desire to see strong non-party candidates coming forward.  But that aim has been fatally undermined by the cost barrier.  Not only do candidates have to find a significant (£5000) deposit, they also have to fund the production and distribution of any promotional literature.  The refusal to allow the usual election privilege of free distribution has simply put another hurdle on the route.  It apes the worst aspect of US politics – that so many elected roles are the exclusive preserve of those who have the wealth to contest them, albeit with the caveat that few are likely to try it in practice.

The suggestion that candidates should instead promote their candidacy through public meetings local newspapers and electronic media is surely unrealistic – as it is also unrealistic to expect any candidate for such large areas to be able to have direct contact with more than a tiny portion of the electorate.

By default, most of those who bother to vote – and I suspect turnout will be extremely low – will end up voting along traditional party lines, knowing little about any of the candidates.

In effect an attempt by the government to move towards a more American-style of electioneering where the individual counts more than the party, will end up achieving precisely the opposite.

Then we have the restrictions on candidature, of which a number of potential candidates have already fallen foul.  Whilst I can see the rationale of banning somebody who has just been released from his third term for armed robbery from setting police priorities, the idea that an otherwise model citizen who committed a youthful folly 30 years ago should be similarly treated seems draconian.  And at least one could say that such a person would have had some direct experience of the Criminal Justice System.

But apparently this was a restriction agreed by “all parties” in the House of Commons, and challenged by none during its passage through the legislature.  Were they all asleep, or just not paying attention?

Only the rich need apply

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It appears that some in government circles are starting to feel a little disappointed that most of the names emerging for the elections to the new posts of Police Commissioners are past or present party politicians.  Apparently, they had really hoped to see some strong independent characters coming forward, rather than simply having a traditional party battle.

I can understand that hope – after all, possible politicisation of the police is one of the main planks of opposition to their proposals.  But I cannot understand why they might have thought for a moment that there would ever be a significant number of non-aligned candidates.

Elections are the business of parties; parties are structured and organised precisely for that purpose.  They are also funded for that purpose.  And the areas covered by police forces are large, much larger than the average constituency; the chances of a one-person band ever communicating effectively with a significant proportion of the population are slim.

Why would anyone think that there would be many independent candidates who would be able to organise an election campaign over such a large area on anything like the same basis as a political party?  And how would they fund it – unless they are significantly wealthy in the first place?  I cannot imagine how anyone involved in politics could ever have expected the elections not to be dominated by party political candidates.

Supercops

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On a recent post, a friend referred to the tendency of some to use the following sequence of thoughts as a basis for action:

1.      Something must be done.

2.      This is something.

3.      Therefore, this is what must be done.

The flow has a certain logic to it, albeit badly flawed.  It came to mind again in recent days, when I listened to some of the reactions to the rioting of a week ago; it’s an approach which does rather seem to be popular with government, from Cameron down.  In their haste to be seen to be doing ‘something’, it looks at times as though they are prepared to try anything.

Or, at least, anything which looks like, or can be presented as, ‘tough action’.  The response of the official opposition hasn’t been a great deal better, although they are faced with the little difficulty of being duty-bound to disagree with the government whilst still sounding just as tough.

The result is that specific proposals don’t really seem to be receiving the sort of scrutiny and consideration which they deserve; they are measured solely against the need to be tough, or rather to be seen to be tough.

To take one specific proposal, I don’t really see the objection in principle to considering and learning from police experience elsewhere.  Provided that the assessment of what has worked elsewhere is carried out thoroughly, and the different context of policing is understood and taken into consideration, it’s always possible to learn from others.  That does not, though, appear to be the motivation behind the government’s decision to seek assistance from an American ‘supercop’.

This isn’t about considering the similarities and differences between Los Angeles or New York on the one hand, and Birmingham or London on the other, and then applying any lessons.  I rather suspect that the differences are more significant than the similarities, but will be deliberately ignored.  Worse, the consequences of ignoring the differences and then applying US style policing techniques may well be to reduce the differences and increase the similarities, even if that isn’t the intention.

The man himself, Bill Bratton, certainly seems to have a very high opinion of his own abilities, to read this report.  He can not only deliver better policing, but can do so for a great deal less money, to read his statements.  I can understand the attraction of that combination to Cameron.  There is, though, nothing new about the idea that the court’s favourites will say what the king wants to hear. 

But I’d like to hear what isn’t being said.  Rushing into the application of US-style policing in major cities is likely to have a whole host of unintended consequences which aren’t even getting a hearing.

Half a cheer

Tweet I've never been a fan of ASBOs. Like so much of what New Labour was about, they were, first and foremost, a gimmick. They played well with people who were experiencing real problems, and it is too easy for those of us who never liked them to forget those very real problems. But I was never convinced that they were particularly effective, and they often became something of a badge of honour in some circles.

In some cases, they were used to deal with behaviour which was actually criminal, as a substitute for using existing laws; and where they were used in cases of non-criminal behaviour, breaching them could lead to jail - in effect jailing people for something which was never a criminal offence in the first place.

So my first reaction to the announcement that they are to be killed off was positive. But the small print is missing, and I'd like to see it before getting too enthusiastic, since the Government seem to be talking not so much about abolishing them, as about replacing them. And they have yet to spell out how.

Talk of communities working with the police sounds all well and good; but that is nothing new; it happens to a great extent already. (Although it does involve the police spending a lot of time in liaison and discussion sessions. Given some of the other statements made by the Government, it's hard to believe that they're proposing more of that, but the bottom line is that 'working with communities' involves a serious commitment of time and resource.)

The other strand of what the Home Secretary said – 'giving the police the powers they need' – worries me rather more. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt until they spell it out; but my first reaction was that it sounds like ASBOs without the controls and checks provided by the courts etc. And that, applied to activities which are not criminal in the first place, would be a huge step backwards, not forward.

Ritual game

Tweet There is a ritual game played every winter when councils, police authorities and the like bemoan the settlement which they have received from central government. They always talk in dire terms about the cuts that they will have to make to services - and always illustrate the point by using a high profile aspect of their activities as part of the game. However generous the settlement, it will never be enough, and the rules of the game require an annual complaint to be made.

In that context, my first reaction to the suggestion by the Chief Constable of South Wales that her force will cease to police the M4 was to assume that it was just part of the usual ritual.

I don't know whether her assessment of the state of finances of her force is right or wrong. I do know from local government experience that the finances of such a large organisation are always much more complex than is immediately apparent, and that when the game is lost (as it invariably is), the relevant treasurer (with, of course, the appropriate warnings and caveats) manages to produce a balanced budget which somehow avoids the doomsday scenarios which were inevitable just a few weeks earlier. Still, it all helps to justify the level of tax rise being proposed, and the Chief Constable's statement was made as part of an attempt to justify a 9.8% rise in tax, after all.

But on further thought, this is a bit more than the usual game. This isn't just drawing attention to high profile services and saying that services will be threatened by a lack of cash. This is a public servant threatening publicly to cease performing statutory duties in an attempt to extract more money from the government. That's outside the usual rules of the game – and it oversteps the mark.