make haste slowly

working in a community

Some time ago an experienced and respected Chief Constable told me that policing was not rocket science, it was about communication and people. The police service had only two aims, to keep people safe and to make people feel safe. Everything we did after that were simply tactics to achieve these two aims. He also said that a police officer was in a unique and privileged position. The majority of people in any community are only to happy to speak to their police officer. So police officers should take every opportunity to do just that. The last thing he said was interesting, 'when policing, make haste slowly'.

 

For years now chief officers of police have promised to solve crime and anti social behaviour, if given more powers and more officers. Over the years more powers and officers have been delivered by various hues of government. At the same time communities have demanded more officers on their streets. However the increase in officers, yes police numbers have risen, has not been reflected in numbers patrolling in communities. I can quote an example using actual figures. I will not mention the area as I do not want to embarrass the officers currently having to police it. Some ten and more years ago the area I refer to had, on a typical weekend night, anything from ten to sixteen officers available for community patrolling. Supported by specialist officers. Today that area struggles to muster ten officers and on occasion has been known to police with less than four and have specialist traffic officers attend calls in the community. Why is that?

Perhaps there are two main reasons: One involves the myriad of new demands placed on the police service. Sex offenders, drugs, corporate policy issues, gender issues, diversity, community planning, youth justice, community safety, management information, crime and criminal profiling, intelligence units, terrorism units, firearms and on and on. Every time the government create a new strategy demanding police action and involvement, the service reacts by diverting officers from beat duties. Somebody has to produce the action plans and keep the new direction on track. Then there are performance indicators, foisted on the service. Housebreaking detections, vandalism detections, drug convictions and more. Few of these indicators are gleaned from communities. They are usually political. Chief officers know this and put together strategies to tackle the indicators. Squads are formed, resulting in concentrated efforts to get the figures up or down, whatever the indicator demands. Chief officers are not stupid, they know what they are being judged on. However each squad or unit, set up to address the indicators, is put together by denuding communities of even more beat officers, bringing them to the centre to be managed by the CID.

The second problem is in the whole management structure of the police service. It generally is dominated by current and ex CID officers, who have spent little, if any, time in communities. They do not understand community issues and believe that policing is exclusively about detecting criminals and that by catching criminals crime will be reduced. That is patently nonsense. One has to ask, who's needs are being met by this flawed approach. They therefore skew their strategies to that end. One is not suggesting that catching criminals is not a major part of policing, of course it is, however preventing crime, one may argue, is equally, if not more important. Ask any victim.

One possible way forward would be to have an independent review of policing, including its management. In addition, Chief Constables need to be supported more as well as being made more answerable for their decisions. Secondly, the government of the day need to examine closely where all the officers are, what function each and every one of them is performing. There is no doubt that each and every officer is working hard and in many cases working above and beyond, however that does not mean that every task is actually necessary. It is only when that is understood and each position justified, or not, will we be in a position to make a valued judgement as to police numbers and deployment.

Then there is the single Scottish Police service. Oh, I have no doubt the targets and performance figures dreamt up to justify the break up of the present system and show the efficiency of a single force will succeed in doing just that. These targets and indicators are designed to do just that, they are not honest nor impartial, how could they be? Turkeys don't vote for Christmas.

It is politics, it is not about communities, it is not about people. It is about centralisation. If my memory serves, a cornerstone of communism and one could ask, did that serve communities well? I would go so far as to say people are actually a bloody nuisance to modern policing, which instead of making us feel safer goes out of it's way to do the exact opposite.

The new system of a single force will only accelerate the distancing from the communities it serves. I have no doubt about that.

'If a man discovers a mistake and does not correct it, he is committing a second mistake', Confucius.

passing panther and cotter bard

robert burns

A weak crescent moon peeks flittingly from scudding gaps in a storm filled sky. High above the St Lawrence River, General Wolfe leads his troops onto the Heights of Abraham. Montcalm is soon to be swept from Quebec, but the French are not to be so easily removed. Britain, under George lll is engaged in the Seven Year war. The Empire is aflame, battles are fought and won at Minden, Queberon, Lagos and beyond. The year is 1759.

In Portugal the Jesuits are expelled, Catherine the Great rules Russia, North America sees the unstoppable flood of European immigrants as they spread and settle across the plains and mountains of that vast continent. A flood, that will not only destroy the traditions of, but the actual peoples of once proud nations. Iraquois, Algonquins, Miantunnomoh, Shawnee, Sioux and more will soon be reduced to refugees in their own land, to second billing in second feature movies.

Scotland is on the threshold of great change. The Jacobites with their fleeing figurehead have been vanquished, soon to expire. A whole way of life, from feudal tything of land to clan stewardship is on the wane. The first stirrings of Industrial Revolution are about to bring fundamental and far reaching changes to society. Changes, that were to herald a new economic emphasis. In thirty short, frantic, years of evolution Scotland will be brought abreast of developments in England that they have managed over a leisurely century or two.

Into such a melting pot of influences was born Robert Burns, eldest in a family of seven. He was born into a farming family and while they were not in poverty, life was hard and they certainly were not rich. By modern standards he had a sketchy education. He could read however and he read all he could lay his hands on, understanding what he read. He had emotion, awareness, sensibility and a vision that took far beyond his limited physical boundaries. Despite his upbringing of never ceasing toil, he could laugh.

Burns knew the nature of people, of man, of woman, opposed to the bare elements of existence. Elements of existence that was fundamental and universal. Such qualities of understanding that made him the people’s poet. Burns embraced, no, embraces all humanity.

‘The Unco Guid’, The Rigidly Righteous’, Holy Willie, Twa Dugs, Man Made to Mourn, examples of his observation skills, his vision and his social awareness, none exclusive to eighteenth century Scotland. Burns was timeless and universal. He was born on a subsistence farm in Ayrshire and he enriched the world.

Dawn creeps over the grey, drizzle drenched, Spaylaywitheepi. A fragile bark canoe crosses the bow of the lead trader’s keelboat. A musket cracks, the ball splashing harmlessly short of the paddling Shawnee. The shot heralds a frenzy of strokes as the canoe lurches forward in a desperate race to outdistance the pursuing flotilla. It skims the surface of the water as it rounds a welcome bend. A swirling tell-tale wake betrays its curving flight into the mouth of the smaller tributary, the Licking River. Hell bent on their murderous pursuit the traders’ swing their craft after their fast tiring prey. The bait has been taken.

Astern of the unsuspecting traders the mouth of the Licking fills with war canoes. Both banks suddenly swarm with warriors. The deadly trap is sprung.

Just another skirmish in a land where opposing cultures struggle for dominance.

It is also the era of George Washington, famous for his honesty, for felling a cherry tree, for being the first President of the United States of America, for his role in humbling and destroying the Iroquois nation and for penning his pleasure at that barbarous act.

Into such a cauldron, fate was to introduce a human being of humility and vision. Someone of power and charisma, whose birth in a Shawnee wegiwa was marked by the brilliant death of a meteorite. A happening that was to inspire his name, ‘The Panther Passing Across’, Tecumseh of the Shawnee. Who through his strength of character, his humanity and vision, against all great odds, had a dream, a dream of a great nation, bound by a racial brotherhood that would supersede all barriers of rivalries and hatred.

tecumseh

Like Burns he was born with little possessions and like Burns he died a young man. But he managed to pack into his short life an understanding of humanity that was to transcend his troubled life. Circumstances were not to present Tecumseh with the universal platform that was to so widely immortalise the ploughman poet, but that did not diminish his greatness.

Scotland continued to change and throughout the life of Burns, 1759 to 1796, many people and events of note were to emerge:

Telford, the brilliant civil engineer, responsible for the revolutionary, ‘Iron Bridge’ over the Severn in Shropshire, still standing to this day. The improvements in steam power brought about by Watt, with his local connections at Bo’ness.

It was the time of the Forth and Clyde Canal, that marvel of engineering opened to shipping in 1790. The creation of iron works, notably Carron Foundry, whose ‘carronades’ were to sound their thunder in the faces of the Empire’s enemies in many a battle location. Early developments in our transport saw the Turnpike Trust set up.

In 1776 Adam Smith penned, ‘The Wealth of Nations’. World trade was blossoming and the ‘East India Company’ flourished. All was not plain sailing however and that ghastly phenomenon, that haunts us to this very day, took its toll, inflation. It led to the demise of Douglas, Hern and Company, notable bankers of that time.

North America, kick started by tax problems, fought the Britain at the battle of Bunkers Hill, Boston, the start of a struggle that led to independence and George Washington donning the mantle, first President of the United States of America. That great British institution, ‘The Times’ was born, Frederick the Great died, the Great War began, yes these were troubled times.

The age of Burns saw the birth of Shelley, Keats, Wordsworth and Carlyle, a rich vein of talent. It was also when two of the greatest Scottish portrait painters, Ramsey and Raeburn were to capture many famous figures on canvass. Burns lived in a country at a time of change, when many famous people and events were to shape our destiny.

None however captured the admiration, the imagination, the unashamed universal acclaim, than did the Ayrshire crofter, poet. In late January every year celebrations to his memory encircle the globe, keeping pace with the rising and setting sun. His genius and humanity is embraced the world over, French, German, Italian, Russian, Chinese and Americans have claimed him as their own. The Ayrshire poet has certainly left his mark.

Tecumseh’s dream was never to be fulfilled, as the inevitability associated with the spread of a more powerful mass was to take its toll on his nation as they were overwhelmed by the development of a New World. Or was it the rape of a culture?

Two centuries on, the splendid Spaylaywitheepi is no more, now the ordinary Ohio River. The site of the ‘skirmish’ overlooked by the city of Cincinnati and the Riverfront baseball stadium.

Tecumseh, is revered and celebrated amongst his own people, Burns has a wider reverence, only fate and circumstances set their limits.

I wish they had met on earth: Perhaps they were destined to meet on another plain.

pied drummer of sheriffmuir

Drummers are the backbone of any musical group or band. A drummer told me that. It seems the drummers keep the tempo of all musical ensembles because the other musicians, particularly the guitar strummers, can't. Another drummer told me that.

This true tale is not about bands or groups or other musicians and whether or not they can have tempo, it is about sheep. Yes the woolly things you see when driving about the countryside, that's right, sheep. In this instance Black Face ewes.

It is also a truth, so another drummer assured me, that the drums attract girls. Not sure how it works if the drummer is female, but hey, I don't have an answer for everything. Perhaps in the land of music that is not a problem, each to his, or her, own. He described drums as a 'chick magnet'. I have no idea what that means but one thing I do know and can evidence, they are definitely a Black Face ewe magnet. Perhaps other breeds may well display the same love of a good roll, not sure, however as this tale unfolds you will see that the Black Face do. Rockers at heart and mesmericly attracted to a good drum beat. Now not many people know that.

My first instinct when hearing the story I am to relate was to do a bit of research. I had a feeling I was getting the wool pulled over my eyes, but the more I read the more I believed.

Using drum beats as a method of communication is not new. Whilst the practice is world wide, the most famous would appear to be the 'talking drums' of West Africa, particularly those of Nigeria and Ghana, as they are known today. It seems that during the era of slave trading the practice moved west to the Americas. Interestingly, the use of drums was banned by the slavers as their captives were communicating in a 'language' they could not understand.

Drum communication methods whilst not languages in their own right; are based on actual natural languages. The sounds produced are conventionalised or idiomatic signals based on speech patterns. The messages are normally very stereotyped and context-dependent. They lack the ability to form new combinations and expressions. When a drum is used in speech mode, it is culturally defined and depends on the linguistic/cultural boundaries. Therefore, communication suffers from translation problems as in vocal communication. There is no single international drum language.

Back to our Black Face ewes and drums? Well it seems this tale is not an isolated incident. This one involved wild horses;

A woman called Jill Star runs an organisation designed to support and help Native American youths to understand and revive their tribal values, culture, ceremony, spirituality and language. One method of doing this is through interaction with wild horses. During one programme, student participants were allowed to select a specific wild horse for "gentling," meaning they could assist in taming and training that animal. One sunny afternoon, when they had finished their tasks, the students and a few elders within their group brought a tribal drum to the site. The students sat around the instrument and began to chant and drum. When this happened, the horses followed the drums and mesmerised, made a semi-circle around the students. Most of the youngsters were so involved in the drumming that they didn't notice, even though the horses had gathered just 20 feet or so away from them. It seems to have been a very moving moment.

To our more local tale. A very talented drummer, resident in the central Scotland area, was practicing in his apartment, but getting really frustrated because the close proximity of other residents, less than enthusiastic about his drum skills, was cramping his style. Only one solution. Kit stowed safely in his van and into a quiet corner of Stirlingshire. Quiet until he arrived that is. The quiet corner I refer to was Sheriffmuir, just kind of on the north west flank of the Ochil Hills. With kit arranged the drummer of our tale, released his frustrations on the unsuspecting drums. An hour passed during which time, with eyes closed and in a pleasure trance, our hero beat himself into a crescendo of noise and sweat. I think that describes what he did, although on re reading that bit I am not sure it sound too savoury. So keep it clean.

When finished and in the process of coming down from the high he had transported himself to, he became aware of someone knocking on the drivers window of his van. The conversation between our drummer and his visitor went along these lines;

'Hello, hope I'm not disturbing you, but will you be back next week?'

'Sorry, I don't understand, back next week, why?'

'Have a look outside, have you no seen the sheep?'

'The sheep?'

'Aye, have a look.'

To our pied drummer's surprise there were some two hundred or so sheep clustered against the fence adjacent to where he was parked, all staring at his van. Seems these Black Face ewes, as the shepherd described them, were more enthusiastic about his drumming skills than his neighbours.

'So will you be back next week?'

'If you like, but why?'

'Well I will be gathering them next week for dipping and when they are all over the hill it can take hours to get them all in. If you just park in the same place and do what you were doing today, it will save us hours.'

And he did and the sheep responded exactly as expected and the gathering was achieved in jig time. Our hero's trouble was rewarded to the tune of £50. A good day all round.

So there you have it, Black Face sheep on Sheriffmuir, wild horses in the USA, mesmerized by the beat of the drums.

A question comes to mind, if my pied drummer of Sheriffmuir can attract sheep what about the Hamelin piper? 

Interesting, very interesting.