Ireland is different. Multicultural with a small ‘m’, it is also a
modern country where citizens are aware of their rights, and where proper
standards are demanded. In this, it would seem, ‘the force’ is somewhat out of
time.
Garda
Aidan Doherty thought he was going to die. His attacker produced a Stanley
knife, lashed out, and cut an artery in Doherty’s right arm. The sergeant had
been called to the Voodoo nightclub, in Letterkenny, on an August night in
2011. He was arresting a troublemaker, when the man stabbed him.
There
was no first-aid equipment to put pressure on the wound and stop the bleeding.
For a few minutes, as blood pumped from his body, Doherty thought he would die
— for nothing more than doing his job.
Doherty
made it through the ordeal and, eventually, got on with his life. Details of
the assault were heard in a High Court action recently, but the incident
demonstrates the dangers faced routinely by members of An Garda Síochána. There
are major incidents from time to time, in which members are injured, sometimes
seriously. On some — thankfully very few — occasions, a garda dies in the
course of their duty.
But
it’s the routine stuff that highlights the nature of working as a policeman. It
can be hellishly dangerous, with the prospect of life-altering assault, or
worse, right around every corner, in every town in a State in which a drink
culture often leads to random violence.
That’s
the dirty reality of the job. Over the last few weeks, another aspect of the
culture in ‘the force’ has been splashed across the media landscape.
nWere
members of the gardaí involved in bugging the garda ombudsman’s office?
n
What’s the story with the corruption of the penalty points system?
n
Were members of ‘the force’ responsible for the horrendous treatment of assault
victim Mary Lynch?
n
Is ‘the force’ dysfunctional?
The
scandals of recent weeks would be easier to understand if the gardaí did not
enjoy a high level of respect among the general population. Unlike in other
democracies, the police force in this country is not separate from the
mainstream population. Its members are drawn from right across society.
One
of the reasons for the high regard for ‘the force’ stems from the homogenous
society that existed here until the last 15 years.
In
other countries, with large minority populations, the domestic police is often
regarded with suspicion, for perfectly valid reasons.
One
just has to look North, to the old RUC, to see how the police can become a
stick with which to beat one section of society.
Today,
Ireland is different. Multicultural with a small ‘m’, it is also a modern
country where citizens are aware of their rights, and where proper standards
are demanded. In this, it would seem, ‘the force’ is somewhat out of time.
The
penalty points debacle is an obvious example. What has emerged is that, until
recent days, a culture existed of some senior officers abusing the system to take
care of family and friends.
Sometimes
this involved deleting attached points for repeat offenders, whose driving was
obviously habitually dangerous. Taking care of your people was standard fare in
the old days.
Today,
the carnage on the roads is addressed seriously. The penalty points system is
regarded as a key tool in ensuring that safe practice is observed.
Yet
that imperative was swallowed up by the old culture of ‘looking after friends
and family’ — creating a two-track approach to road safety, by which those in
the know could do as they pleased, while the wider population had to behave
responsibly or suffer the consequences.
Then,
there’s the matter of standards.
There
are officers, and indeed units, within ‘the force’ that perform to the highest
standards, right across the policing brief, from tackling organised crime to
traffic management.
These
officers do their jobs in the best traditions of public service, often with
scant reward for efforts beyond the call of duty.
But
in an organisation of 13,000 personnel, there are inevitably going to be
slackers.
How
these slackers are dealt with also harks back to an earlier age.
By
and large, they are simply tolerated by others who want to get on with the job.
The real problem arises when mistakes are made, either through slacking, or
simply in the normal run of affairs.
The
dossier of cases that Micheál Martin passed onto the Taoiseach, having received
it from whistleblower garda, Maurice McCabe, is stuffed full of incompetence:
cases not investigated; files gone missing; basic policing procedures ignored.
In
some instances, a simple mistake was made at the outset of the investigation of
a crime.
This
is entirely human, but within the culture of the gardaí mistakes are not
addressed in a manner designed to eliminate repetition.
Instead,
the imperative is to ensure that nothing emerges that might impinge on the
reputation of the force, or, more particularly, the careers of senior officers.
The
result is a culture in which cock-ups are covered up, destined to be repeated,
and inevitably impacting on the victims of crime, not to mention the
professionalism of ‘the force’.
Is
it possible that the dossier compiled by Sergeant McCabe gathers examples
confined to one area of the country? Or is the problem endemic?
The
police force is also out of time is in its attitude towards the Garda Síochána
Ombudsman Commission (GSOC). It is obvious, now, that senior management within
the gardaí have never accepted GSOC’s role as an overseer of ‘the force’.
The
negative attitude to GSOC may well run through all elements of ‘the force’, but
leadership comes from the management.
Again,
this harks back to a different age, when ‘the force’ policed itself in a manner
in which accountability was a moveable feast.
It
took the scandal of corruption in Donegal for a government to install an
oversight body, but while successive governments are big on legislation in this
area, they have shown themselves to have precious little interest in the spirit
of laws enacted.
And
that goes to the nub of the issues that have surfaced recently about the
gardaí. No large body, and particularly one as powerful as a police force, is
going to take easily to change.
Any
change is going to involve a devolution of powers, a requirement for
accountability, opening a window to transparency.
That
level of change, for an erstwhile insular organisation, demands a major push
from the democratic leaders in the country. Laws are all very well, but
political will is the key component in modernising the gardaí to ensure that it
functions with proper accountability and professionalism.
That
will is simply not there. And until such time as the main political parties
take responsibility for pushing change, history is destined to repeat itself,
with all its scandals and all its victims.
By Michael Clifford