The Blue Chasm

by Brett Williams

Police Association secretary, Peter Parfitt, was shunned by most of the Police Department's commissioned officers 10 years ago after he dared to question their role. He had likened their actions to a conspiracy and advocated a "phasing-out" of commissions in an article entitled "Commissioned Officers and The Police Association -- at the Crossroads'?" (Police Journal, March 1986).

Parfitt wrote: "...now, more than ever before in my experience, there is a gap between commissioned officers and the rest of the force. There is a form of class distinction being fostered in this force."

Wearers of white shirts and chrome- filled epaulettes must have been horrified to read themselves described as "continually aping" their brother-commissioned officers in the defence forces with all manner of military-style regalia. Parfitt also noted the importance they seemed to attach to a sound knowledge of how to "correctly pass the port".

His cutting prose linked commissioned officers to the concepts of "The brotherhood", "Semi-secret societies" and "The ruling class". He also wrote of his perception that some rank-and-file members were "bitter" that those who would belong to such groups were also entitled to belong to the Police Association.

Parfitt remembers a "pretty cool" response from some commissioned officers, while a few others were so incensed that they displayed open hostility toward him. He seemed, for a time, to be their virtual enemy.

Today, Parfitt says he retracts nothing from his 10-year-old article. He says the commissioned officers' angry response illustrated that they were "completely out of touch". "It was an indication of the perspective they brought to the article," he says. "Instead of reading it dispassionately it inflamed them."

It seems that now, 10 years later, others have drawn many of the same conclusions. An ethics report released by former commissioner, David Hunt, in June last year brought about a stinging tabloid headline: "Police force split by mistrust" (The Advertiser, 28.06.96). The accompanying article read: "The wide-ranging report says junior and senior police have a strong mistrust of each other, with a perception that commissioned officers ... get preferential treatment if they breach the rules."

Adelaide reporter, Peter Haran, also painted a grim picture of relations within SAPOL (South Australia Police) when he wrote: "It has been no secret (that) junior ranks have felt dissatisfaction with police management style, many complaining of ... old-fashioned management practices" (Hunt for our new top cop, Sunday Mail, 22.09.96).

So, has SAPOL split into two distinct and opposing employee groups which lack trust and respect for each other? If it has, and if relations between the two are afflicted with ill-feeling, what level of concern is held by those within commissioned-officer ranks? "I would like to see the gap closed," says state duty officer, Inspector John Peake.

Perhaps not surprisinglg, however, Peake doesn't see his colleagues as responsible for the chasm which seems to lie between the two camps. "Quite often the barriers that are put up are by those who are not commissioned," he asserts. "Predominantly, the change in approach or attitude toward people seems to come from the non-commissioned officers."

And Peake, it seems, is not alone in apportioning blame to rank-and-file members. Victims of Crime branch boss, Detective Chief Inspector Al Thomson, remarks: "When I first became commissioned I believed I didn't change. But what I did observe is the fact that because I (became) one of 'them', those who used to be good friends suddenly took two or three steps away, creating this 'distance'."

But many of the Police Department's rank and file hold quite different views about why poor relations exist and who is to blame. Could it be that commissioned officers' style of interaction with subordinates causes more harm than they care to admit?

In a paper presented to the Inaugural Australasian Women Police Conference in July last year, Constable Dawn Lunn related the views of a group of serving women police officers. She told the Sydney conference of their perception of SAPOL's management style: "(It) remains authoritarian and oppressive and stifles individual expression. The organisation is managed, and maintains control, through rank and fear and this creates an unhealthy environment for employees ..."

Oppressive managerial behaviour is no new phenomenon, according to former Police Journal opinion columnist, Sergeant Tony McMahon. In a recent column which he titled "Them and Us" (Police Journal, November 1996) he wrote of his experience as a 25-year-old being castigated by an inspector within two days of joining the police force. "To say that I was ... terrified of the inspector would have been an understatement," he wrote.

Of course, no thinking commissioned officer would attempt to bully Peter Parfitt today, but even he can remember being treated oppressively earlier in his career. These days it's part of his job to deal with the tragic results of oppression.

"I've had people here, in this (Association) office, reduced to tears," he exclaims, "grown human beings, who have got children of their own, put almost into an infantile state because of the oppressive behaviour of one or two particular police managers.

"In the police force, with it's command- and-control ethos, there are individuals who want to reduce adults to child-like status. It's absolutely heartbreaking to see a person of my age, a sergeant in the police force, sitting opposite my desk weeping because of the actions of a particular (police) manager.

"I'm not saying it happens every week but I've had several occasions where I've had individuals who have felt completely alienated (and) frightened of what was going on in their workplace."

Parfitt has formulated something of a psychological profile on those commissioned officers who choose oppression as their particular code of practise. He says there are two possibilities: they're either naturally inclined toward that style or, they were themselves subjected to oppression and have made a conscious decision to "give a bit back".

What some commissioned officers' actions indicate, Parfitt believes, is an unhealthy tolerance for oppression within the police management culture. He says that if oppression had no support as a management style, it would only exist in "one or two aberrant individuals". "It's easier for a weak manager to comply with the prevailing (management) culture than to seek to change it and realise it's not working," he says.

Of course, amid the flurry of recent criticism sits SAPOL's bible, the General Duties Manual. Ironically, it demands that commissioned officers supervise those under their command in such a way as to ensure that "harsh, unreasonable or unjustified ... actions (by the rank and file) are avoided".

But of the old military model of demeaning, unquestioned discipline, Assistant Commissioner Neil McKenzie says "it's gone". He says Dawn Lunn's conference paper isn't a true reflection of SAPOL management.

"She talks about control through rank and fear," he says "but everybody knows what the rules are and they're rules that are established under the Police Act and the Regulations, and we abide by those in a broader sense. If, in that way, she was talking about ... general control methods that might be relevant in this department then, obviously, she's talking about the regulations (and) the acts that govern all employers and employees."

The SAPOL Women's Group chose not to speak to the Police Journal directly but issued a statement addressing McKenzie's remarks. "Good leaders, " it reads, "do not rely on formal authority, they have learned to lead without it."

"The over reliance on obedience to rank fosters an environment where, rather than participation being encouraged it is discouraged; rather than power and information being shared it is jealously guarded; rather than employees being empowered they are disempowered."

But McKenzie regards many of the commissioned officers within his command as "quite brilliant" in the area of rank-and- file relations. However, he doesn't deny that there are others about whom he's had complaints of "not handling things as well as they might have".

"Once they're looked at," he says, "it's interesting to see how the personalities have come into it. In most cases it's not the incident that's being complained about that's really the problem -- it's a long-standing three (-month) or six-month series of events put together (which) have caused frustration, and haven't been brought to the surface quickly enough."

Of the autocratic style of old, however, Commissioned Officers' Police Association president, Al Thomson, says "it still exists". "It's been my observation," he says, "that some of the younger commissioned officers do come across as being oppressive and over-the-top authoritarian."

It's a situation which concerns Thomson. He understands only too well that should one commissioned officer act improperly, the whole 114 will be judged by that officer's poor conduct.

John Peake admits that he's seen some "absolutely abysmal management styles". He says that any single incident of oppression is too much; those that he's seen have made him cringe.

At the same time, however, Peake reveals his willingness to adopt a hard-line approach. "It's all well and good to be, as the saying goes, 'warm and fuzzy' (but) it's an onus upon management, when necessary, to be 'cold and prickly'," he says.

Despite the obvious confidence in commissioned officers, Neil McKenzie believes in a style of assessment akin to an approval rating. "If you take a group of 100 people and ask whether they like (or) respect their OC (officer in charge)," he says, "you'll find, probably, 70/30 who think it is a good relationship and respect the leader. If the proportions change, then it indicates the leadership profile needs to be improved."

Can it be true, as some assert, that police, officers undergo a complete metamorphosis when they finally win acceptance into the seemingly hallowed ranks of commissioned officers? If it is such a radical transformation, does it dissolve their memories of life as one of the humble rank and file?

"I'm yet to find out what does happen," Al Thomson quips. "On the Thursday when the Commissioner or Deputy (Commissioner) gives you a bit of paper, you're still the same person with the same skills. I suspect that when people first become commissioned officers, they tend to give that appearance that they're better than others. (But) more chrome doesn't necessarily mean more intelligence."

Commissioned officers losing the memory of their origins is seen as a gross misdeed by some, and offensive by others. Whether this memory loss is part of the transition from worker to manager isn't clear, but Tony McMahon felt it appropriate to end his November opinion column with a warning: "...some of you bosses, don't forget your roots."

But some, according to McMahon, have forgotten their beginnings; and those with ailing memories were the ones to whom he directed his advice. "If it prodded a few consciences," he says, "then that would be great."

Sadly, disregarding one's roots has a well-known outcome: loss of touch. "When you get into that big, tall hierarchy, and the rarefied atmosphere of SEG (senior executive group) meetings, of course, you're going to lose perspective," says Peter Parfitt. "It's fair to say that the majority of our members would agree that they feel as if the senior echelon has lost touch."

In an interview with the Police Journal last year, Assistant Commissioner John Murray, unexpectedly admitted that: "My view of the world is pretty narrow from the ninth floor..." (To Be Suspected, Police Journal, May 1996).

Neil McKenzie, however, insists that his view from atop Police Headquarters is, unlike Murray's, all-encompassing. He claims a "fairly good understanding" of operational police officers' needs. It's a claim he supports by asserting that very few complaints to the Police Association are made from his command.

But John Peake doesn't see the need for an intimate knowledge of operational policing. "I don't know all the practices that go on on the road," he admits, "nor, as part of middle-management, do I see that I need to know..."

So, if scoring a commission means being perceived as tyrannical, untrustworthy or, even aloof, what's the motivation to achieve higher office'? Is it the lure of bigger pay packets and increased power and authority? Is it a question of status or egoism?

"The money is really a myth," says Neil McKenzie, whose annual salary will, in fewer than 12 months, be increased to $83,000. He admits, however, that some people "do like the status of being a CO (commissioned officer)".

Al Thomson says he'd be concerned if money was the sole motivator to attain commissions, but adds: "I think one would be naive to suggest that the purposes were all altruistic."

While some may attempt to portray SAPOL's contingent of commissioned officers as open, approachable managers, it continues to be branded a "boys' club". In his 1986 article, Peter Parfitt supported this view when he wrote of the officers' mess at Fort Largs Police Academy where officers dine in their mess jackets with miniature medals. Cricket matches between the Commissioner's XI and the Brigadier's XI was another example with which he made his point.

"These comments, no matter what happens, will always be made," says Al Thomson. "If it's a 'boys' club', it's very difficult to get in. I should know because I fronted up four times before I eventually got over the final hurdle.

"We do have a commissioned officers' mess that is well supported by commissioned officers, so, in that regard, I think the concept of a 'boys' club' certainly exists."

An officer group dining in special uniforms and enjoying a culture of its own doesn't concern Neil McKenzie. He doesn't believe such practices are indicative of a class system within the police force.

"There is no culture course which would seek to separate the officers from the men and women of the force," he insists. "It's a statement that's often used, that there is a class difference there, but when you ask for examples of that, rarely are they given."

The requirement to salute commissioned officers and address them as "sir" or "ma'am" is a practise for which the rank and file have, for years, expressed great dislike, albeit privately. Many see it as excessive and out of place in a modern-day police force, serving only to drive the wedge even deeper between the saluters and the saluted.

Reading SAPOL's general orders on saluting and addressing commissioned officers, one could form the impression that the author was referring to holy men. Like a passage from a 1950s military manual the orders read:

Cadets, constables, and non- commissioned officers when addressing an officer of commissioned rank will stand to attention and speak in a proper and respectful tone. They will address a male commissioned officer as "Sir" and a female commissioned officer as... "Ma'am". Superiors will report all cases of insubordination.

The salute is the accepted method of' recognising and greeting a member of the Force of commissioned officer rank. It is incumbent on all members to recognise other members, and the duty of making first recognition is with the junior member who will...salute a commissioned officer.

When a non-commissioned officer or constable addresses a commissioned officer he will halt two paces from him and salute... He will also salute before withdrawing.

To Neil McKenzie, these practices are all signs of respect. He doesn't want to see them disappear; and he doesn't believe they adversely affect relations. "I think it can be used as quite a strong bonding process rather than a wedging process," he says.

Happy to see both practices abolished immediately are Al Thomson and John Peake. "It would sit comfortably with me if all ranks were to call me by my Christian name," says Peake. "I look for other ways of demonstrating respect. Being commissioned doesn't automatically get respect from people."

Peter Parfitt sees such practices as forms of submission which, he says, are inappropriate in an organization "trying to call itself professional". "Why you can't call your commissioned officer by his or her first name at work is beyond me -- what's the fear'?" he asks.

Whether it's a crevice or a canyon which lies between commissioned officers and the rank and file seems arguable. But those within the relationship agree on at least one thing: there's room for improvement.

Selecting the right people to commission might seem a very obvious way to bring about improved relations. Tony McMahon's advice on that process, however, suggests that some commissioned officers aren't quite adept in one of the fundamentals of management. "In the selection process of commissioned officers, a high priority should be attached to the ability to demonstrate 'people skills'," he says.

But how successful is the selection process; and if it's a failure, what hope is there? "It goes without saying," says John Peake, "that the process of selection doesn't always get it right, but generally it doesn't take mugs into that rank."

Current relationship tensions, according to Peter Parfitt, can only be relieved through a complete overhaul of SAPOL's management structure. "Top-down control, over-supervision, rules and obedience and compliance and threats of punishment is bullshit," he exclaims. "I want to see that form of management obliterated from the police force.

"What we have now are police officers who are well trained, well educated and very able to do the job. They don't have to be shouted at or have the book thrown at them on a daily basis. They know what to do and what not to do, and they need management to be a support to them."

[End]