(DOC) Thesis - examining intelligence-led policing

The London School of Economics and Political Science The Influence of Intelligence-Led Policing Models on Investigative Policy and Practice in Mainstream Policing 1993-2007: Division, Resistance and Investigative Orthodoxy Adrian James A thesis submitted to the Department of Social Policy of the London School of Economics and Political Science for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy, London, September 2011 1 Declaration I certify that the thesis I have presented for examination for the PhD degree of the London School of Economics and Political Science is solely my own work other than where I have clearly indicated that it is the work of others (in which case the extent of any work carried out jointly by me and any other person is clearly identified in it). The copyright of this thesis rests with the author. Quotation from it is permitted, provided that full acknowledgement is made. This thesis may not be reproduced without the prior written consent of the author. I warrant that this authorisation does not, to the best of my belief, infringe the rights of any third party. Word Count: …………………………….. Adrian James 2 Abstract This research addressed the question ‘What is the National Intelligence Model (NIM), why did it emerge and how has it influenced police organisational structures and investigative practice’? The NIM embodied the apotheosis of intelligence-led policing (ILP) policy in Britain. Allied to the pre-existing ‘intelligence cycle’, it represented an eclectic ‘pick n’ mix’ of the innovative strategies introduced in the 1990s, which aimed to deliver ‘best value’ in policing. David Phillips, President of the Association of Chief Police Officers (ACPO) during a key period in the NIM’s development, wanted it to overhaul intelligence work, and transfigure investigative practice in the mainstream. Through archival, secondary and primary research, the thesis examined the NIM’s policy content against the background of intelligence work and investigative practice, and in the context of Kingdon’s ‘Agenda Setting’ approach to policymaking. It evaluated NIM implementation through primary research in the form of case studies, which included observations and interviews with senior commanders, officers and other officials. Ultimately, Phillips’ plans to revolutionise mainstream policing were confused by commanders’ orthodoxy and frustrated both by competing agendas within ACPO, and by the paucity of evidence that the NIM could deliver what he promised. Phillips’ policy entrepreneurship was the key factor in the model gaining support in ACPO and the Home Office. However, beyond that policymaking arena, few senior commanders were willing to effect the structural changes that the Home Office-codified model demanded. Instead, they seemed to adopt ‘compliance’ tactics that disguised resistance and forestalled sanction. Orthodoxy, resistance and tradition played significant parts in the resulting ‘NIM- compliant’ activity in forces as, with few complaints, officers and staff dutifully applied the model in a myriad of inefficient ways. Ultimately, the NIM added to the burden of bureaucracy but the end result was that British policing ended up looking very much the way it had before the NIM narrative began. 3 Acknowledgements I offer my sincere thanks to my doctoral supervisor, Professor Tim Newburn, for his guidance, understanding and unfailing patience. I would also like to thank my family, friends and former colleagues for all their encouragement and support since I decided to embark on this undertaking. I am extremely grateful to the research respondents. All gave generously of their time and spoke with honesty and candour. I am equally grateful to these, in police forces and in other organisations, who allowed respondents the time to contribute to this research and who gave me the opportunity to observe the National Intelligence Model in action. My work partly was funded by the Metropolitan Police Service under the auspices of the Bramshill Fellowship Scheme. 4 List of Tables and Figures Table 1 - Methodologies against ‘political’ crime........................................... 86 ............................................. Figure 1 – The Intelligence Cycle...................................................................124 Figure 2 - Example of Crime Pattern Analysis - vehicle crime ‘hotspots’....153 Figure 3 - Example of a network analysis chart.............................................154 Figure 4 - The Neighbourhood Policing Reinvention Cycle..........................174 5 List of acronyms and abbreviations AC Assistant Commissioner (Metropolitan Police) ACC Assistant Chief Constable ACPO Association of Chief Police Officers AIU Area Intelligence Unit ANPR Automatic Number Plate Reader APA Association of Police Authorities ASB Anti Social-Behaviour BCU Basic Command Unit CDA Crime and Disorder Act 1998 CDIIIU Central Drugs and Illegal Immigration Intelligence Unit CDRP Crime and Disorder Reduction Partnership CID Criminal Investigation Department CMM Crime Management Model COMPSTAT Computerised Statistics CPA Crime Pattern Analysis CRM Crime Reduction Manager CS Control Strategy DAC Deputy Assistant Commissioner (Metropolitan Police) DC Detective Constable DCC Deputy Chief Constable DCI Detective Chief Inspector DI Detective Inspector 6 DOI Director of Intelligence DS Detective Sergeant FIB Force Intelligence Bureau FIO Field Intelligence Officer FIRT Force Intelligence Review Team GIS Geographic Information System GPMS Government Protective Marking Scheme HMIC Her Majesty’s Inspector of Constabulary ILP Intelligence-Led Policing IM Intelligence Manager IPCC Independent Police Complaints Commission JAG Joint Action Group KPM Kent Policing Model Met, The Metropolitan Police Service MMDP Middle Market Drug Partnership MOPI Management of Police Information NARPO National Association of Retired Police Officers NCPE National Centre for Policing Excellence NCIS National Criminal Intelligence Service NCS National Crime Squad NDIU National Drugs Intelligence Unit NFIU National Football Intelligence Unit NIAT National Intelligence Analysis Training (course) NIM National Intelligence Model NPIA National Policing Improvement Agency NPP New Public Management NPP National Policing Plan NYPD New York Police Department 7 OPG Operational Planning Group OPS Obscene Publications Squad PACE Police and Criminal Evidence Act 1984 PMCA Police and Magistrates Courts Act 1994 RIPA Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act, 2000 RCCP Royal Commission on Criminal Procedure RCS Regional Crime Squad RISC Research and Intelligence Support Centre SB Special Branch SIB Special Irish Branch SERCS South East Regional Crime Squad SIS Special Intelligence Section (Metropolitan Police) SMT Senior Management Team SOCA Serious Organised Crime Agency SOCO Scenes of Crime Officer UBP Unit Beat Policing Introduction 8 Index Introduction to the Research 13 Introduction 13 A Personal History 13 Thesis Structure 16 Key Concepts and Terms 17 Chapter 1 - Relevant Literature 20 Introduction 20 Intelligence-Led Policing 20 Intelligence-Led Policing in the Modern Era 21 Problem Oriented Policing (POP) 23 Community Policing, Crime Reduction, Neighbourhood Policing 24 Intelligence, Knowledge Management and Organisational Memory 26 The Police Organisation 29 Structure of Policing 29 ACPO 32 Detectives and Uniforms 34 Police Culture 36 Oversight of the Police 39 Police Governance 39 New Public Management 42 The Oversight Bureaucracy 44 COMPSTAT 45 HMIC 47 Audit Commission 49 Public Policymaking 51 Summary 52 Chapter 2 - Research Methods 54 Introduction 54 Rationale 54 Research Aims and Research Question 55 Research Design 55 Methods 59 Data Collection 61 Units of Analysis 63 Investigative Practice, Intelligence Work and the NIM 64 Urban Case Study 65 County Case Study 67 9 Data Analysis 67 Ethical Issues 69 Research Challenges 71 Summary 73 Chapter 3 - Contextualising NIM: A Brief History of Investigation 75 Introduction 75 The Police Mission 75 Plain Clothes Policing 77 Charles Vincent and the CID 80 Cultural Division 86 Home Office Committee on Detective Work, 1933-1936 89 Intelligence Work 89 CID and Mainstream Policing 91 Specialist Squads 92 The Flying Squad 93 The Special Duty Squad (SDS) or ‘Ghost Squad’ 94 Criminal Intelligence Squad 9 (‘C9’) 96 Criminal Intelligence Squad 11 (‘C11’) 97 Regional Crime Squads 99 Summary of Analysis 101 Chapter 4 - Contextualising the NIM: Intelligence-Led Investigation 103 Introduction 103 UBP, Intelligence Work and the CID 103 UBP’s Influence on Patrol Strategies 104 UBP and Local Intelligence 107 UBP and the CID 109 Scrutiny of the CID 112 Specialist Detective Work at the End of the Twentieth Century 113 New National Bodies 114 Controlling the Detectives 117 The Resilience of the Specialist Squads 119 Policing with Intelligence 122 Summary of Analysis 127 Chapter 5 - The Emergence of the NIM 131 Introduction 131 David Phillips’ Influence on Policing in Kent 131 Kent’s Crime Management Model 133 Kent Police Model 137 KPM Roll-Out 141 10 The NIM 144 The Philosophical Roots of the Model 149 The NIM ‘Ideal’ 152 Intelligence Collection 152 Collation, Analysis and Evaluation 152 Presentation of Evidence/Intelligence Assessments 155 Consultation Monitoring Identified Problems 156 Home Office, Policing Policy and the NIM 156 Summary of Analysis 164 Chapter 6 - Evaluating the NIM: the Model in Practice 167 Introduction 167 ACPO’s Lack of Influence Over its Membership 167 Challenges to NIM Implementation 168 Home Office Performance Targets 169 Ideological Resistance 171 The NIM’s Association with NCIS 175 Inadequate Implementation Strategy 177 The NIM’s Language and Style 182 UK Intelligence Architecture 185 Phillips’ Retirement from the Police Service 189 Cross-Border Crime 191 Summary of Analysis 193 Chapter 7 - Evaluating the NIM: Urban Case Study 196 Introduction 196 Reaction of the Urban Elite to the NIM 196 NIM at BCU Level 202 The NIM Process in Urban 207 Intelligence Collection in Urban 207 Collation, Analysis and Evaluation in Urban 208 Presentation of Evidence in Urban 210 Consultation with Partners in Urban 213 Monitoring Problems in Urban 220 NIM and Neighbourhood Policing in Urban 224 Urban’s Intelligence Architecture 226 Summary of Analysis 229 Chapter 8 - Evaluating the NIM: County Case Study 232 Introduction 232 Force Reorganisation 232 11 County Elite and the NIM 235 NIM at BCU Level in County 238 The NIM Process in County 242 Intelligence Collection in County 242 Collation, Analysis and Evaluation in County 243 Presentation of Evidence in County 246 Consultation with Partners in County 249 Monitoring Problems in County 255 NIM and Neighbourhood Policing 260 County’s Intelligence Architecture 261 Summary of Analysis 264 Chapter 9 - Discussion and Conclusions 267 Introduction 267 ILP in the Modern Era 268 Intelligence Work in the Mainstream 272 Orthodoxy 274 What Does the NIM Reveal About the Police Organisation? 276 Appendix A – Review of Metropolitan Police Intelligence System, 1991 285 Appendix B – Flow diagram of policy implementation process 288 Appendix C – Thesis Aims and Objectives 289 Appendix D – CID Corruption 290 The First Detectives 290 Robert Mark and CID Reform in London 291 Operation Countryman 295 Appendix E - Home Office Committee on Detective Work, 1933-1936 299 Appendix F - Pen Picture of Sir David Phillips 304 References 307 12 Introduction to the Research Introduction This thesis uses archival and documentary research, and case studies that draw on primary research to examine the emergence and development of the National Intelligence Model (NIM), and to evaluate its influence on contemporary organisational structures, policing policy, and investigative practice. A Personal History In 1977, as a young man, I moved from a small town in Wales to join the Metropolitan Police (the ‘Met’). I knew almost nothing of policing and even less of the history, organisation or culture of the detective force but I had idealised the life of a detective and I was determined to follow my chosen path. 33 years on, I reflect on a professional life which largely represents a dream fulfilled. A detective for 25 years, I began my Criminal Investigation Department (CID) career in London’s West End and worked across the Metropolis. In 1987, I graduated to specialist detective work, with the Met’s Drugs Squad then, in turn, the South East Regional Crime Squad, the National Crime Squad, the Met’s Specialist Operations Command and finally the Middle Market Drugs Partnership (MMDP) which was an innovative project undertaken by the Met in partnership with the City of London Police, Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs and the Serious Organised Crime Agency to combat drug trafficking. Initially, I was ignorant of the history, tradition and practices of the CID and knew nothing of the corruption and abuses of power that had been features of the department in the 1960s and 1970s but I soon became aware of the latent resentment to the reforms introduced by the recently retired Commissioner Robert Mark. The CID I joined seemed to be cowed by the opprobrium it had recently received but was determined to carry on ‘business as usual’ as far as it was allowed to by its new uniformed commanders. Battered 13 but unbowed, CID officers continued to conform to the ‘work hard, play hard’ media-driven stereotype and this seemed to be encouraged by middle-management which despite Mark’s reforms largely remained intact. I attended the renowned Hendon CID course where I was instructed in the criminal law and indoctrinated into the ways of ‘the department’. I was taught legal practice skills but provided little instruction in the basics of detective work such as, searching, interviewing, processing of prisoners, preparing casework or the tradecraft associated with intelligence work. It was expected that most of these skills would be learnt ‘on the job’. I soon realised that with staff costs relatively low, junior detectives had every opportunity to observe experienced colleagues at close quarters. Indoctrination into detective culture was so complete that newcomers usually worked in excess of 100 hours overtime each month without complaint. My recollection of the early years of my detective career is that the majority of my time, on or off duty, was spent in licensed premises (that is, or at least so it seems to me now, anywhere that alcohol could be consumed and the macho, gendered culture reinforced). Often, the distinction between work and ‘play’ was blurred. Long hours were spent ‘seeking information’ about local crime and criminals, the sessions frequently ending with inebriation. With the benefit of hindsight, the effects of these practices on health and on personal relationships are obvious. However, what strikes me now was the normality of it all. Despite Mark’s reforms, normative detective values and behavioural characteristics (which Skolnik (1966) has termed the ‘working personality’ of a group) were rarely challenged and CID officers seemed unchanged. Members of the detective force shared the conviction that unlike the uniform branch they were dealing with ‘real’ crime. There was an obvious CID hierarchy. Specialist detectives believed themselves superior to their divisional colleagues. They were usually indifferent to the work of mainstream officers (although specialists such as dog handlers and firearms officers were accorded a little more ‘respect’). Divisional detectives often were dismissive of the efforts of their uniformed counterparts and considered themselves 14 over-worked and under-appreciated compared to their specialist colleagues. Most aspired to leave behind the “eclectic assemblage of little tasks” that makes up generalist detective work for the excitement and relative ease of the specialist detectives’ world (Thornton and Harper, 1991: 3). Whenever I recall those relationships, I think of the classic ‘Frost Report’ sketch on social class featuring John Cleese, Ronnie Barker and Ronnie Corbett. My version of the sketch has the specialist units (the upper class) looking down on the divisional CID. The divisional CID in turn, looks up to the specialist CID but down on the (working class) uniform branch etc. Specialist detective work brought status and was easier than divisional work. Specialists have better equipment and resources and more extensive support networks. On the other hand, the tools and techniques of the work (surveillance and other covert methods) meant long hours away from home and family life. I do need to inject balance here. I had left the drinking culture behind and the work was challenging, fulfilling and enjoyable. However, commitment to the task could result in a blinkered approach. Detectives as a group are ‘can do’ kind of people ready to rise to any challenge. Unfortunately, I found that we rarely reflected effectively enough on our work. Whether a task was completed in the most efficient or cost-effective way or even whether it should have been undertaken at all, were matters that were seldom considered. Returning to ‘the Met’ in 2001 to take up the post of intelligence manager, I first learned of the NIM which was being marketed by the Association of Chief Police Officers (ACPO) and by the National Criminal Intelligence Service (NCIS) as the new model for operational policing. In my new post I found management meetings usually included an agenda item that referred to NCIS’ plans to revolutionise intelligence work in the mainstream. However, staff remained ignorant of them and few intelligence workers understood how the NIM should influence their work. The problems in intelligence work seemed to run even deeper. There were fundamental deficiencies in the intelligence structure and my unit seemed to operate in a bubble. Intelligence assessments, if they were utilised at all, were used as management information and had little impact on operations. I 15 was rarely consulted on operational matters. Moreover, my unit was used as a dumping ground for staff who (because of illness or infirmity) could not be employed on the frontline, and for information that did not seem to fit anywhere else in the organisation. Despite the claims made for intelligence-led policing (ILP) and innovations like the NIM, the divide between intelligence work and the operational world was stark. Of course, as an operational detective I knew that accurate intelligence was the lifeblood of any investigation. I had used the services of the intelligence agencies to inform my actions in specific inquiries but equally I knew many detectives pursued proactive investigations on the word of a ‘reliable’ informer or on the basis of a ‘hunch’, with little reference to those same agencies. In other words, it was my experience that investigations often were informer-led or instinct-led rather than intelligence-led with little thought given to the strategic aims of the organisation or the impact of those investigations on communities. From the other side of the operational/intelligence divide, the limitations of this blinkered approach seemed obvious. My concerns about the continuing utility of those strategies inspired this research Thesis Structure Beyond this introduction, Chapter 1 analyses the literature that is relevant to this study whilst Chapter 2 establishes its rationale, scope and purpose, the research methods used and the challenges experienced. Beyond that methods chapter, my thesis broadly is divided into three parts. Firstly, Chapters 3-5 represent a study of the NIM’s policy content. These chapters describe and explain the genesis and development of the NIM. Chapter 3 sets the model in the context of investigative practice and intelligence work in mainstream policing. It examines the historical development of the CID. It also highlights that the ‘class divide’ in policing, which is at least as old as the CID, may undermine the ‘whole service’ approach to operational policing advocated by David Phillips, the President of ACPO and the inspiration for the NIM. Chapter 4 explains the policing environment from which the NIM emerged. It examines the structure of the police 16 organisation and considers the policies and processes that influenced investigative practice in that period. Chapter 5 highlights Phillips’ roles in the development of ILP in Britain and in the emergence and development of the NIM. It explains the model’s endorsement by ACPO and its codification by the Home Office through the lens of Kingdon’s (1995) ‘Agenda Setting’ approach in which Phillips’ role as ‘policy entrepreneur’ was key. The second section of the thesis, Chapters 6-8, moves the story of the model on to an evaluation of its implementation in the police forces of England and Wales. Chapter 6 assesses those factors that prevented Phillips achieving his ambitions for the model across the police service. Chapter 7, the first of two case studies, evaluates the implementation of the NIM in a metropolitan force referred to as ‘Urban’. It discusses senior commanders’ resistance to the model and how that played out at the corporate and at the local levels of the force. Chapter 8, the second case study, continues that evaluation. It examines the impact of the NIM on a largely rural force, referred to here as ‘County’. It discusses the attitude of County’s senior commanders to the NIM and to intelligence work more generally, and how their attitudes influenced the operation of the model at the corporate and local levels of the force. The purpose of the case studies is to add texture, colour and depth to the analysis in Chapter 6. Chapter 9 is the final section of the thesis,. Analysis runs as a thread throughout the whole thesis. Therefore, there is not a discrete data analysis section. However, in this concluding chapter the key topics and themes uncovered and analysed throughout the thesis are summarised and critiqued. I conclude with a reflection on what the NIM narrative reveals about the police organisation. Key Concepts and Terms The key concepts and terms explored in this thesis are: criminal intelligence, intelligence models, intelligence-led policing (ILP), policy entrepreneurs, the (police) elite, senior management teams, ‘orthodoxy’, and ‘whole service’. 17 Criminal intelligence helps investigators to study criminal conduct as a phenomenon and to expose its motivations, methods and inhibitors. Many attempts have been made to elevate ‘intelligence’ to a professional standing. However in this thesis, I rely on a description that strips the concept of its professional bias. Intelligence is “information which is significant or potentially significant for an enquiry or potential enquiry” (Brown, 2007: 340). By this assessment, intelligence is information – nothing more and nothing less. ILP is usually underpinned by proactive approaches that focus on the environment or target suspect individuals or populations on the basis of intelligence. ILP has been explained in many ways. In the context of this thesis it is best described as “a collaborative enterprise based on improved intelligence operations and community-oriented policing and problem solving” (Peterson, 2005: vii). Intelligence models of the kind discussed in this thesis (the Kent Policing Model (KPM) and the NIM) represent attempts by the police to impose order on chaos. Both the KPM and the NIM were developed to enable the police to manage the demand for their services. Thereby, allowing them the space to create an operational reserve that would not routinely be committed to reactive policing and which therefore could be used to resource longer-term problem-solving measures (FIRT, 1998). The defining characteristics of policy entrepreneurs are their “willingness to invest their resources - time, energy, reputation and sometimes money - in the hope of a future return” (Kingdon, 2003: 122). They are people who seek to initiate “dynamic policy change … through attempting to win support for their ideas for policy innovation” (Mintrom 1997 cited in Savage 2007: 129). Invariably, they have a particular expertise, political connections or negotiating skills and they are persistent (Kingdon, 2003: 181). I use the term elite to describe those at the highest level of the police service. The term includes chief officers and other members of the Association of Chief Police Officers (ACPO). However, it also includes the most senior civilian staff in the service (such as financial directors etc.). 18 Senior Management Team (SMT) is the term used in policing to describe the group of senior managers in a Basic Command Unit (BCU). The commander, usually a chief superintendent, is assisted by one or more superintendents and a larger number of chief inspectors. I use the term orthodoxy as shorthand for their innate cultural conservatism of police officers of all ranks that has its roots in police culture and traditionalism (discussed in the next chapter). Advocates of a ‘whole service’ approach to policing argue that it can weave together the discrete elements of the police, its organisational assets, resources and initiatives, streamlining aims and work processes in cost-effective ways that benefit both the police organisation and communities. 19 Chapter 1 - Relevant Literature Introduction The NIM’s sponsor, Sir David Phillips, Chief Constable of Kent Police and President of ACPO, and his supporters in the Association, wanted the model to revolutionise intelligence work in mainstream policing in England and Wales, and to underpin a new ‘whole service’ intelligence-led approach to investigation and operations. This research aims to explain the emergence of the model, to examine its influence on operational policing and to assess what the NIM narrative reveals about the police organisation. The successful implementation of the NIM required a significant level of change in the police organisation, change that could be achieved only with the commitment of those at the apex of the police service and with the full support of the relevant Government department, the Home Office. This review of the pre-existing literature is framed closely around my research question (see Chapter 3). In analysing the literature, I have heeded Dunleavy’s (2003) advice to focus on material that readers ‘need to know’ to fully appreciate the contribution of this research, and no more. Therefore the subjects covered in this chapter are: intelligence-led policing and intelligence work; the police organisation; oversight of the police; and public policymaking. Intelligence-Led Policing ILP underpins the NIM ideal. Indeed, the authors of the model considered that it represented the apotheosis of ILP in Britain. However, the true meaning of the term has never really been settled. In practice, it is confusingly applied to a variety of discrete ‘crime-fighting’ processes that rely on the efforts of analysts and intelligence specialist engaged in ‘crime mapping’, ‘crime pattern analysis’, ‘data analysis’ and other ‘problem- solving’ approaches (all of which are explored later in this research) (see for example Cope, 2004; Ratcliffe, 2002; Heaton, 2000). There is another dimension to ILP which also relies on analysts and other specialists but in this second case the emphasis is on the targeting of 20 groups or individuals using covert methods with their arrest, or some other intervention to prevent further offending, the intended outcome (see for example Peterson, 2005; Maguire and John, 1995). Beyond those approaches, other novel strategies also have come to the fore. It is worth examining them here because each challenged the traditional reactive policing paradigm and, as the reader will see later, each patently influenced Phillips’ plans for the NIM. ILP in the Modern Era Arguably, it was the introduction of Unit Beat Policing (UBP) in 1967 that provided the foundation for ILP in the modern era. The specialisation of the patrol function that accompanied UBP, established the local intelligence system in mainstream policing on which the modern intelligence structure is based. The introduction of the collator (see Wilmer, 1970), an individual tasked with collecting and evaluating information collected by patrol officers, was a significant milestone in the development of intelligence-led strategies and the specialisation of the police workforce. Though some researchers (such as Reiner, 2010 and Waddington, 1999) have been critical of the police’s ‘down-grading’ of the patrol function, which accompanied those developments. That is a subject that I shall later examine in some detail through the analysis of archival material and primary research. Commonly, the development of ILP strategies is linked to increasing concerns about organised (often transnational) crime (see for example Wright, 2005; Sheptycki, 2000), the search for ‘best evidence’ or at least ‘better evidence’, following the discrediting of investigative strategies that ultimately relied on suspects’ confessions (see for example Maguire, 2008), and the availability of increasingly sophisticated surveillance technologies (particularly information technology) in the modern era (see for example Ratcliffe, 2008; Manning, 2001). Chan (2003: 656) suggested that the appeal of ILP to police commanders was that it promised new, problem-solving, intelligence-led approaches for dealing with increasingly sophisticated and prolific offenders. Whilst, Reiner (2010: 23) argued that its appeal was that it provided a solution to the problems associated with traditional policing 21 tactics which were “spread too thinly over the multitude of potential victims and offenders to be able to achieve much preventative cover or detection”. The Audit Commission (discussed more fully later in this chapter) was a significant actor in the search for ‘best value’ in public sector organisations. Its influential report on ILP, Helping with Enquiries: Tackling Crime Effectively (Audit Commission, 1993), challenged the effectiveness of the then dominant reactive paradigm. It argued for an intelligence-led, crime reduction strategy that targeted scarce operational resources against the criminal rather than the crime. The report had a considerable impact both on the Home Office and the police service and following its publication there was a significant shift in policing discourse. However, the reader will see later that what was lauded as groundbreaking work, simply restated observations made by police commanders at least 60 years earlier. Perhaps, this indicates both that there is little that is new in policing and that the police’s organisational memory is not as good as it might be. Reiner (2000: 217) argued that there are sufficient, well-researched examples of these kinds of innovative policing to suggest that targeted policing strategies can succeed in having a “significant, if modest” effect on crime and the fear of crime. However, questioning the scale of ILP, Skogan (2008: 23) observed that though there was enthusiasm among “academics and the informed public” for ILP strategies, for policymakers and police commanders “the political risks involved are considerable, and efforts to change the police often fall far short or fail”. I will argue later that chief officers’ orthodoxy (for example, demonstrated by the Metropolitan Police’s efforts to reorganise its intelligence structures – See Appendix A) undermined their ability to deliver real reform and that the reactive paradigm continues to dominate practice. Gill (2000) questioned whether ILP truly represented a fundamental transformation of policing in the modern era or whether it was something that simply was bolted-on to existing structures. I will argue later that the real appeal of ILP to commanders is limited and that the elite’s innate orthodoxy has meant that ILP has had much less impact in the mainstream than the rhetoric suggests. The anticipated ‘ILP revolution’ has not taken place 22 in Britain and that failure undermined the NIM’s impact on policing in the ways intended by Phillips. Problem Oriented Policing (POP) POP was another of the proactive approaches putatively embraced by the British police service in this period. Goldstein (1979) is popularly credited with originating the style known as POP in the USA and his ideas spread across the developed world. Newburn (2003: 387) argued that no one has been more influential in moving policing in the direction of problem-solving than Goldstein, and that his work has not only influenced practical policing across the world in the last 30 years “but has spawned a variety of cognate policing models during that time”. Goldstein (1979) argued that a continuing emphasis on improving the police organisation (evident in policing across the Western world at that time) was unlikely to raise the standard of service delivered to communities. Instead, the police should aim to reduce the volume of problems that came to their attention to a manageable level (within the department’s available resources) by embracing a commitment to a more systematic process for inquiring into the origins and causes of those problems. This would mean defining problems more specifically, collecting information from external as well as internal sources and, overall, engaging in a broader search for solutions than hitherto (Eck and Spelman, 1988). Police departments should build on existing crime prevention initiatives to explore a variety of alternative responses to each policing problem (Goldstein, 1979). Essentially these amounted to: exploring physical or technical changes in the social environment (situational crime prevention measures), lobbying for changes in the provision of government services, conveying reliable crime prevention advice, developing new skills among police officers (such as more advanced first-aid training or providing extra training in conflict resolution), adopting new forms of authority (for example, the right to issue ‘official’ warnings in public order situations), developing new community resources (by 23 taking the lead in delivering local services), lobbying for changes in the law or in regulation, seeking alternatives to prosecution and, using ‘zoning’ powers to separate different factions. In Britain, POP is usually enacted through a standardised toolset of analysis and environmental scanning. British analysts have favoured the SARA method, a sequential process involving in turn: (environmental) Scanning, (intelligence) Analysis, Response and Assessment (or evaluation of the appropriateness of the response). Tilley (2003: 321) has suggested that in practice the process is much “messier” with a great deal more overlap than the SARA construct suggests. Analysts may also use the problem analysis triangle (PAT). The PAT considers problems from the perspective of the victim, the offender and the environment and echoes Felson’s (1998) routine activity model (Tilley, 2003). A problem-oriented approach requires police to take more of an initiative in dealing with problems and might also call for them to be aggressive in forging partnerships with local communities (Goldstein, 1979: 258). Goldstein believed that this would be welcomed by the police establishment as it would not be seen as challenging “the prevailing value system”. However, he underestimated the resistance of the police rank and file. For example, researchers found that the introduction of civilian analysts as ‘problem solvers’ was not universally welcomed and resistance often led to the “misuse and exclusion” of analysis from operational responses (Cope, 2003: 357). This perhaps is unsurprising given the inadequacy and inefficiency of the mainstream intelligence structure. There also has been some cultural resistance to POP. Read and Tilley (2000) argued that almost every force in Britain purports to engage, to a greater or lesser degree, in POP but it has not proved to be a popular career choice for action-oriented patrol officers and frontline detectives (Tilley, 2003). Community Policing, Crime Reduction, Neighbourhood Policing Community policing builds on a commitment to POP and relies on “decentralisation and a reorientation of patrol” so as to facilitate greater contact and dialogue between the police 24 and citizens (Skogan and Hartnett, 2005: 428). In principle, community policing is responsive to communities’ needs and is committed to partnership and problem solving (Skogan and Hartnett, 2005). Tilley (2003) argued that the movement was stimulated in the 1970s by calls for the police to cooperate more closely with the communities they served. In Britain, the first authoritative call for a system of policing that was more finely tuned to citizens’ needs was made by John Alderson, Chief Constable of Devon and Cornwall in 1977. Others such as Kenneth Newman, Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police (1982-1987) were keen to take up Alderson’s challenge. Community policing strategies are now commonplace in British policing and many of the multi-agency problem- solving approaches that they have spawned are consistent with the preventative proactive policing strategies that Newman (and others who followed in his wake such as Imbert and Condon) encouraged. However in the 1970s, Alderson’s views contrasted sharply with the majority, authoritarian, view in British policing expressed for example by James Anderton the Chief Constable of Greater Manchester Police who argued forcefully for the maintenance of the crime control status quo (see Savage, 2007: Byrne and Pease, 2003 for further analysis). Community policing has been linked to crime prevention and, latterly, crime reduction initiatives in partnership with communities. The first formal police/community partnerships, the Police Community Liaison Groups, emerged as a result of the Scarman Inquiry (1981) and further development of partnerships was encouraged by a variety of Home Office circulars and consultation papers. Most commentators agree that the most significant development in this context was the Morgan Report (Standing Conference on Crime Prevention) 1991. Morgan proposed that local authorities with their wide-ranging powers in relation to education, housing and planning “all of which impact on the development of criminal inclinations and their realisation in action” should play their part in crime prevention activities (cited in Byrne and Pease, 2003: 293). Community policing and crime reduction in Britain was boosted significantly by the introduction of the Crime and Disorder Act 1998 (CDA). The Act placed a statutory duty 25 on chief constables and local authorities to formulate a crime reduction strategy based on a local crime audit. Those strategies evolved into the neighbourhood policing programme that is being pursued across Britain by chief officers today. Tilley (2003) has argued that neighbourhood policing in Britain can best be understood as an attempt to bring together the key elements of POP and ILP. The identification by Innes of ‘signal crimes’; incidents that “act as warning to people about threats to their security and that have a disproportionate impact on the way people, think, feel or act” (cited in Quinton and Morris, 2008: 260), added another dimension to the debate. I argue that it also provided the impetus for the further development of neighbourhood policing programmes in the first decade of the twenty-first century and has given sustenance to those who are ideologically opposed to the kind of crime control approach favoured by the supporters of the NIM. Intelligence, Knowledge Management and Organisational Memory Compared to the subject of policing policy generally, intelligence policy and practice has received surprisingly little attention.1 Intelligence has always been core business for the armed forces and for the security services, and there is an extensive literature on intelligence and information work in those contexts (see Twigge, Hampshire and Macklin, 2009; Warner, 2004 and Wright, 1987). Since the introduction of the Special Irish Branch in 1883, intelligence work has been central to the activities of many specialist police units in Britain (see Grieve, 2004 and Clutterbuck, 2002). However, until the last decade of the twentieth century intelligence was rarely used to inform investigative strategy in mainstream policing. Important for its application to the discovery of evidence, largely it did not merit much attention as a discipline in its own right. Nor was intelligence a subject that exercised police commanders in the mainstream (Flood, 2003). The reader will see later, that whilst an intelligence architecture supporting the higher policing function was well established at the end of the twentieth century, intelligence work of the kind needed to support ILP and strategic models like the KPM (the 1 Though the publication in 2007 of Newburn et al’s Handbook of Criminal Investigation sought to address that deficit. 26 precursor to the NIM) and the NIM essentially were ignored (see Grieve, 2004; Flood, 2003). Flood (2003), argued that Phillips, an acknowledged champion of ILP (see for example Tilley, 2008), wanted the NIM to revolutionise operational policing in the mainstream. Grieve (2004: 26) suggested that the model signalled a new way of thinking about intelligence, which needed “to be reclaimed from the secret world, made less threatening to communities and used in their service”. Taken together, the statements of these two former senior police officers suggest that the NIM was seen by the police as an important and far-reaching policy that had the potential to deliver more efficient and more inclusive policing practice in the mainstream. In recent years, the seeming inability of the police service to use its intelligence effectively enough to underpin its protective services (as revealed for example by the murder of Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman in Soham) or to properly direct its operational activities, has been highlighted both in the media and by studies that have disclosed inadequacies and inefficiencies in police intelligence management systems (see for example, Phillips, 2008; Cope, 2008, 2004 and 2003; Maguire and John, 2006; Innes, Fielding and Cope, 2005 and 2003, Chainey and Ratcliffe, 2005; Grieve, 2004; Sheptycki, 2004 and Gill, 2000). The NIM itself has been subject only to limited review. Tilley (2008), Savage (2007) and Oakensen et al (2002) all investigated the model in the wider context of policing policy. Kleiven (2005) researched the influence of the NIM on intelligence gathering in local communities and found that its impact largely was negligible. Empirical research into NIM implementation was carried out by Collier (2004) and by John and Maguire (2003), who examined a pilot project. The former found (in the four forces he studied) that there was tension at the local level “between the resources allocated to volume crime and serious crime, and between response-led, intelligence-led and reassurance-led strategies”. This is a subject that I will discuss in some detail later. Collier found that NIM processes were implemented partially and ineffectively because of: 27 technological problems; “the bureaucratization of processes”; and “cultural resistance”. He also highlighted an “absence of rigorous evidence linking actions, results and contextual issues” (2006: 115). As the reader will see later, John and Maguire (2004) uncovered the same failings in the implementation process observed by Collier. Their research highlighted that significant improvements were needed if the model was to achieve its stated purpose. In part, this research examines whether the improvements the researchers considered to be so necessary were ever made. In that sense, it addresses unanswered questions about the NIM. More broadly, intelligence work is linked to issues of knowledge management and organisational memory. Earlier, I alluded to the fact that the need to ‘rediscover’ ILP in the 1990s, pointed to a defective and partial organisational memory in policing. Knowledge management has been described as “the process of creating, capturing and using knowledge to enhance organizational performance (Collier, 2006: 109). Ratcliffe (2008) argues that ‘knowledge’, given context and meaning by the addition of organisational ‘wisdom’, is immensely valuable to any organisation and argues that knowledge management should be an “intensive activity” for policing in intelligence-led environments because it is fundamental to an organisation’s success (2008: 98). Collier (2006) argues that the distinction between ‘knowledge’ and ‘intelligence’ is more than mere semantics; it is an important one because allied with good intelligence, knowledge can assist all public services, including police forces, to satisfy variable demand against fixed budgets. Bowers, a member of the original ACPO NIM project team, suggested that the NIM was an example of that kind of knowledge management in action (cited in Collier, 2006: 111). Collier himself (2006) described the NIM’s tasking and coordinating process which is central to the model, as having the potential to be particularly relevant and influential in that context because it might provide a framework that would counter the police’s tendency “to put a disproportional emphasis on “acquiring rather than retaining and utilizing knowledge” (2006: 115). The reader will later see, this problem may be endemic in British policing. 28 Knowledge management in policing has come under the scrutiny of many researchers including Manning (2008 and 2001), Willis, Mastrofski and Weisburd, (2004), Walsh, (2001), Chatterton, 1989, Chan (1996), and Van Maanen and Punch (1983). I discuss the service’s efforts to capture knowledge throughout the thesis. Phillips and other supporters of the NIM saw the model as providing the foundation of ‘doctrine; for policing in the new millennium (Flood, 2004). However, the resulting proliferation of doctrine has not been universally welcomed. In 2010, the inquest into the police shooting of the lawyer Mark Saunders, suggested that the service may have become overloaded with codes, guidance and practice advice. In a letter to the Home Secretary, the Westminster Coroner, Paul Knapman, expressed his exasperation over the length and complexity of police manuals and their contribution to the failure of the police operation he had investigated. He felt that complex and conflicting advice “could be amalgamated, simplified or dispensed with" and that what was left should be “set out in simple and unsophisticated language, minimising jargon” (cited in Davies, 2010: 1). This is a topic I discuss in subsequent chapters. The Police Organisation The police service of England and Wales is made up of individual forces, each of which is commanded by a chief officer who is answerable both to their local police authority and to the Home Secretary. The simplicity of that statement belies the complexity of these arrangements in action, and fails to acknowledge the controversies that this division of power has generated. This section examines some of the key institutions and debates that are particularly relevant in the context of the NIM. Structure of Policing The police service of England and Wales is made up of 43 separate police forces, under the command of a chief constable, each with their own distinctive organisational structures that developed according to their individual historical, demographic and geographical 29 differences, and the styles and philosophies of successive chief officers. The structure of policing in England and Wales in the modern era was established by the Police Act 1964 and the Local Government Act 1972. It is important to explain the distinction between the headquarters and BCU functions because an understanding of both force and service structures are key to understanding the operation of the NIM. Though there were important differences between the two, the reader will see that the NIM imposed a duty both on force headquarters and on BCUs to complete intelligence assessments that contributed to regional and national forums in support of Phillips’ ‘whole service’ ideal. Typically, a police force is made up of a headquarters which accommodates the force elite, specialist units, and the support functions that serve the internal operation of the force. The force headquarters is responsible for delivering policing services at the national and regional levels and for overseeing a number of BCUs, which are usually aligned to local authority boundaries and which deliver local policing services (Mawby and Wright, 2003. The BCUs policing services usually include ‘patrol, 24-hour response, and investigation of volume crime... and working with local partners to reduce crime and disorder” (Audit Commission cited in Mawby and Wright, 2003: 175). Those services are usually delivered by uniformed officers. Indeed, the uniformed branch is by some distance the largest in the police service. Though significantly smaller than that branch, the Criminal Investigation Department (CID) is the next largest in terms of the number of staff and resources allocated to it. Of course, there are any number of other specialist departments in the police but the CID (and its relationship with the uniformed branch) is uniquely significant in the context of this research because of its explicit role in crime control and investigation and its traditional monopoly of organised intelligence work. Using a combination of archival, primary and secondary sources, I will trace the development of the CID and the specialist detective force later in this thesis. Today, BCUs are the main operating unit of police forces and are responsible for delivering the bulk of policing services (Loveday et al, 2007). They should also “gather criminal intelligence, conduct criminal investigations and provide rapid responses to 30 emergencies” (Loveday et al cited in Joyce, 2011: 21). BCU performance has been measured by the Police Standards Unit (PSU) since it was established in 2001. The PSU developed the Police Performance and Assessment Framework (PPAF). Introduced in 2004, the PPAF measures BCU performance in key crime categories and other indicators of ‘organisational health’ (Bond, 2003). Researchers have noted that BCUs have not developed in a standard fashion and they differ markedly in terms of their geographical area, population policed and numbers of officers and staff (see Joyce, 2011; Mawby and Wright 2003). Though they share a responsibility as the key sites for engagement between police and local communities. In particular, through their involvement with Crime and Disorder Reduction Partnerships (CDRPs) (HMIC, cited in Joyce, 2011). CDRPs were multi-agency groups set up under section 6 of the Crime and Disorder Act 1998 to tackle crime, drugs and anti-social behaviour throughout a geographic area. Each CDRP agreed an annual partnership plan which outlined the priorities it would focus on over the forthcoming year. That plan was informed by an annual strategic assessment that analysed available local data on crime, drugs and anti-social behaviour. Given the pre-existence of these arrangements, the reader may question the need for another partnership policing model. That is an area that I explore later.2 Since 2001, BCUs have been at the heart of the police modernisation programme. Home Office efforts to measure police performance and improve standards meant a new focus on BCUs from HMIC and the attention of the PSU which was given a specific mandate to focus its attention on BCUs as a way of driving up performance standards (Mawby and Wright, 2003). The reader will see later that the pressure on BCU commanders to meet centrally-imposed performance standards was a significant feature of the NIM narrative. Phillips’ plans for the NIM required each discrete element of each force, each BCU, to be united in a single mission, that of crime control. This would involve (as one research respondent later puts it) ‘pointing all the ships in the same way’. The history of policing hitherto, and the New Public Management (NPM)-inspired 2 CDRPs have since been redesignated as Community Safety Partnerships. 31 performance regime described below, suggested that was not likely to be an easy undertaking. ACPO ACPO played a key role in the introduction of the NIM so its inclusion here is apposite. The Association’s roots are in the borough and county chief constables’ associations founded (respectively) in 1858 and 1896. Wall (1998: 52) described those associations as “little more than gentlemen’s clubs”. Initially, they provided useful forums for members to meet and share ideas. However, their role was enhanced significantly by the establishment of the Police Council in 1919 which was created as an advisory body to the Home Office., and was made up of representatives of the police authorities and officers representing all police ranks. Rhodes (cited in Wall, 1998: 60) has argued that the establishment of the Police Council amounted to the creation of a “policy community” which police representatives by “careful and strategic management” manipulated policing policy to their own advantage and to the disadvantage of others. That included the “ignorant and meddling” Watch Committees (Troup cited in Wall, 1998: 60). In 1948, the associations were merged to form ACPO, which throughout most of its history was “merely a staff association” (Jones, 2008). However, the Association’s recent history suggests a growing influence on police policymaking (Savage et al, 2000). This seems to have its origins in a desire on the part of central government in the 1980s for a single police voice on issues relating to policing and policing policy. ACPO was able to exploit its position to become the “main forum for the articulation and formation of police policy” (Wall, 1998: 76). In 1989, ACPO’s position was further strengthened by the appointment of a permanent secretariat which was established on the recommendation of a Home Affairs Select Committee and with the full support of the Home Office (Ryan et al, 2001). There is a consensus that along with the Home Office, HMIC, police authorities and the Audit Commission, ACPO exerts huge influence on service-level policymaking (Savage 32 et al, 2000; Reiner, 2010). Savage et al (2000: 153) suggest that the organisation has been skilled at managing what they termed “the ACPO dilemma”. If ACPO was seen to be too professional, too calculating and too effective in its lobbying then ultimately this could reduce its influence on policy. ACPO instead has been able to ‘fly under the radar’, preserving its “traditional arrangements” of independence and localism whilst achieving its aims of representation and influence (Savage et al, 2000, 153). Such skilled manoeuvring by ACPO led one commentator to note that the organisation “managed to shift from the position of relative outsider to one very much as an insider” (Grant cited in Ryan et al, 2001: 36). There can be no more desirable position for any lobbyist; ACPO exploited it to the full. In the same period, the Association carried out an important internal reform that Savage et al (2000) termed “the presumption in favour of compliance”. ACPO expected that chief officers would follow the Association line unless they could convince their colleagues that there was a very good reason not to (Ryan et al, 2001: 36). This was necessary to unite what had previously been a “somewhat fragmented and disunited body unable to ‘get its act together’” (Savage and Charman, cited in Ryan et al, 2001: 36). The result was that once a policy was ratified by ACPO’s Chief Constables’ Council, individual chiefs would be bound by it unless they explained to the ACPO President in writing why they could not comply. This enabled ACPO to regulate its members much more effectively and to ‘professionalise’ the organisation making it more “cohesive” (Ryan et al, 2001: 36). Ryan et al (2001) have argued that the ‘presumption’ strengthened both internal and external policymaking processes. Internally, it was expected to increase ACPO’s influence over its own membership, while externally enabling the Association to present a united front to the world. ACPO was a significant actor in the story of the NIM. Indeed, the ACPO council’s decision to adopt the KPM (rebranded as the NIM) as the standard for operational policing in the mainstream across England and Wales was a key event in its story. However, I will argue later that the NIM demonstrates as much as anything in the modern era, that ACPO’s 33 decisions taken on the basis of a ‘presumption in favour of compliance’ have not made the ACPO membership anything like as cohesive as the Association or its supporters have claimed.3 Detectives and Uniforms Detective officers have always held the advantage over their colleagues. From the establishment of the new police, they have been better paid than their uniformed colleagues and have been able to supplement their income by claiming allowances (Metropolitan Police, 2008). Detectives have exploited that advantage to the full and have taken every opportunity to distinguish between themselves and the uniform department, to assert their autonomy (see for example Emsley and Shpayer-Makov, 2006; Maguire cited in Matassa and Newburn, 2007). In effect, the Metropolitan Police became a “divided force, partitioned into two separate branches, each with rigidly defined functions” (Hobbs cited in Matassa and Newburn, 2007: 44). Later in this thesis, I draw on archival material to explore the development of the CID. The existing research describes how at the beginning of the twentieth century, technological and organisational changes contributed to the increasing legitimacy of detective work and of policing generally. For example in 1901, the Criminal Records Office was established and the first effective fingerprinting system was introduced. These developments improved working practices, encouraged greater specialisation and contributed to the professionalisation of the investigative function. However, they also reinforced the CID and uniform divide, enabling the department “to further consolidate its independent position and to consolidate its numbers” (Hobbs, 1988: 44). A view commonly expressed in that period was that there was "a tendency [in the CID]… to regard itself as a thing above and apart, to which the restrictions and limitations placed on the ordinary police do not, or should not apply" (Royal Commission on Police Powers, 1929 cited in Evans, 1974: 108). 3 The reader should note that ACPO’s star seems to be on the wane. In 2010, the election of the Coalition Government fundamentally changed the relationship between ACPO and central government and the Association now finds itself under increasing scrutiny and challenge (see Neyroud, 2011). 34 That view was not influenced by any special training that CID officers may have received. On taking up his appointment, Basil Thomson, Assistant Commissioner Crime (head of the Metropolitan Police CID, 1913-1919) found the CID to be “well organised, though perhaps a little rusty in the hinges” (1921: 3). Few attempts had been made to change a system that accepted former Commissioner Mayne’s assertion (made as far back as 1842 when the first detective department was created) that the nature of crime did not merit “any complicated architecture for the response”. Instead “informal apprenticeship” continued to be the rule (cited in Morris 2007: 18). This lack of training was addressed to some extent at the beginning of the twentieth century. However even then, training was limited to an understanding of the criminal law and “the practical side… was neglected” (Thomson, 1921: 5).4 Most senior detectives were firmly against the idea of extending the training of detectives. Basil Thomson shared that view. He divided his detectives into two classes, “the detective” and “the thief-catcher”. Both demonstrated the “method, industry, and local knowledge… strongly cultivated at New Scotland Yard” (1921: 5). However, the thief- catcher belonged to a unique class of: honest, painstaking policeman without sufficient education to pass examinations for promotion, but who made up for this deficiency by his intimate knowledge of the rougher class of criminals, his habits and his haunts, and by personal acquaintance with the pickpockets themselves, who had the same regard for him as a naughty little boy has for a strict and just schoolmaster. According to Thomson, the risk in over-educating the detective force was that “little by little” the police would eliminate the thief-catcher for whom there was “a very definite place in the scheme” (1921: 5-6). Thomson’s words may appear a little patronising and certainly are idealistic but they also reveal much about the attitude of many senior officers in this period (see also for example Wensley, 1968). Thief takers inhabited the criminal world but they could be 4 Training in the practical skills that might be considered to be central to the work of CID officers (such as interviewing, surveillance or searching techniques) was not routinely provided until the end of the twentieth century. 35 trusted to ‘play by the rules’ - that is, by those informal unwritten detective rules - and to get the job done. For that reason, they earned the admiration and respect of the police elite and it was because of that, that they were afforded latitude (far more than any uniformed officer would ordinarily be allowed) in their methods of operation. It was no surprise that it was to these kinds of men, the highly-prized thief-catchers, that senior commanders turned in times of trouble and it was they who would form the nucleus of each of the new specialist detective units that emerged. I argue that those attitudes and beliefs endured to such a degree that, throughout the twentieth century, whenever the police elite faced a significant policing or social problem it almost unquestioningly accepted that the solution to that problem was the establishment of another specialist detective unit. The increasing specialisation of the detective force in the twentieth century is noteworthy in the context of the NIM, because it confirmed the class system in policing that I later will argue has operated against the ‘whole service’ approach that Phillips saw as crucial to the success of his plans for policing in the new millennium. Police Culture Later, I examine one particular dimension of police culture, the class structure in policing laid bare by the division between the detective and uniformed branches observed in this study, which has its roots in the history of the new police. Here, I examine the broader topic of police culture, something that I will later argue is also central to the story of the NIM. The early research into police culture (by for example, Skolnik, 1966; Bittner, 1967; Westley, 1970; and Cain, 1971) provided the inspiration for increasingly revealing analyses as over the following decades, researchers gained greater access (both overtly and covertly) to the police organisation (see for example Holdaway, 1989; Punch, 1979 and 1985; Chan, 1997 and Waddington, 1999). One of the criticisms of the earliest research was that it failed to take sufficient account of context (see for example Reiner, 2000 and Manning, 2008). Later studies identified that rather than being monolithic, it was more accurate to 36 describe police ‘cultures’ rather than police culture. For example Reiner’s research identified various ‘cop cultures’ that emerged from the organisational division of labour. He labelled these: Bobbies; new centurions; uniform carriers or professionals to differentiate between their differing personalities, job orientations and career ambitions (see Reiner, 2010: 132 for further discussion). Manning (2008: 5) argued (after Weber, 1947) that there are many ‘rationalities’ in policing.5 These are partly “the product of “the development of the modern bureaucratic form, and in part a function of their traditional mandate”. Patterns of conflict, loyalty, and submission are situational and reflect contesting rationalities” which are not necessarily mitigated by the development of the bureaucratic organisation (Manning, Ibid.). He concluded that whilst police organisations “strive to maintain a rational face, a professional face, in spite of deep fissures within them”, there are many rationalities in policing, and that these change over time to provide the power within the organisation (Ibid.). Despite that continuing state of flux, there is one constant - the value set that dominates policing, which at its core is still composed of “mediaeval ideas of duty, honor, personal loyalty to superiors and obedience” (Manning, 2008: 23). The reader will see later that that value set, or orthodoxy, persists in British policing Clearly, the police organisation has undergone significant change (see for example Manning, 2008; Newburn, 2008; and Sklansky, 2007). The patrol function has been reshaped by community policing initiatives, team policing, problem-oriented policing and a myriad of variations on those themes. However as Sklansky (2007: 31) argues, neither that reshaping nor the new theories of inclusive management that emerged at the end of the last century have necessarily delivered greater democracy, inclusiveness or accountability in law enforcement agencies. Instead, policing “clings stubbornly to authoritarian management practices long discredited in other, traditionally hierarchical sectors” (Sklansky, Ibid.). 5 Different approaches to interpreting the ways in which means are oriented to the achievement of ends (see Weber, 1947). 37 In the recent history of policing in Britain, a consistent theme has been the effort to professionalise what traditionally was the seen as the craft of policing. Debates about the modernisation of the workforce began at around the time that NPM principles were introduced to policing in the 1980s. However, Home Office inquiries into the delivery of policing services in that context (such as Sheehy, 1993; Posen, 1995; Flanagan, 2008; and Winsor, 2011) have focused on achieving best value in policing. That is, the rationalisation of policing services either through civilianisation, reviews of what the police must do (as opposed to what could be done by others more cheaply), or by reducing police pay or allowances in various ways. Equally, there have been various attempts to secure an accountable and transparent police service (through legislation such as the PMCA and the Police Reform Act 2002 and through the establishment of new oversight bodies such as the Independent Police Complaints Commission). By contrast, there have been fewer meaningful, direct, attempts to change the management style in policing.6 The specific driver of more recent attempts to redefine police leadership was the ‘workforce modernisation’ element of the Labour Government’s police reform programme, which initially was set out in the White Paper Building Communities: Beating Crime. Golding and Savage (2008) highlighted that there were three strands of that programme that focused on leadership. These were: enhancing workforce professionalism; opening up the service to ‘new talent’; and improving leadership at every level of the police. Golding and Savage (2008: 733) suggested that the search for ‘transformational leaders’ who value individuals and can empower and enable others is frustrated by the tension between leadership and the performance management culture that pervades policing. They argued that the pressure to ‘get results’ from the police is likely to continue and that there may be “long-term pressure to demonstrate compliance with the performance culture” with significant consequences for the quality of police leadership (2008: 748). The reader will see later, that kind of pressure was a significant factor in the story of the NIM. 6 I recognise that just as there are many cultures in policing there also are many management styles. I am referring here to an authoritarian style of management of the kind described by Sklansky (2007), which I argue is endemic in the uniformed branch of the service. 38 Neyroud’s (2010) recent report into police leadership and training argues inter alia for the professionalisation of the police workforce. He recommends the establishment of a Police Professional Body, supported by Charter, and responsible for national standards and ‘qualification frameworks’. Interestingly, he argues that the body should include individuals from all levels of the service. Representation on such a panel would be a desirable first step in ameliorating some of the problems of the past. However, it would be no more than that. Neyroud’s other recommendations, which include ideas for new ways of developing managers that emphasise professional knowledge but also leadership and command skills and behaviours are equally important in that context. Oversight of the Police This section consider the tripartite system of governance, established by the Police Act 1964, which divided responsibility for the executive function of forces between the Home Secretary, local police authorities and chief constables.7 Reiner (2010: 79) argued that together with the introduction of Unit Beat Policing (UBP) and the Regional Crime Squads (which were significant developments in police investigative practice), the Act was a significant element in the “transformation of the police organisation in the mid-1960s”. The section also assesses the impact on police management processes of the management philosophy known as New Public Management (NPM) which in its own way, also was transformational. Police Governance The “complex and much-debated” history of police governance (Reiner, 2010: 227), and the wider interrelationship between police chiefs, police authorities and the Home Office has already been well chronicled by commentators such as: Marshall (1965 and 1978); Lustgarten (1986); Reiner (1991 and 2010); Jones and Newburn (1997) and Jones (2003 and 2008). Therefore, this section presents no more than a brief characterisation of that debate to contextualise the freedom (or otherwise) of chief officers to deploy staff and to 7 Except in London where separate arrangements were made for the Metropolitan and City Police forces. 39 determine the distribution of resources. Waddington (1999: 187) argued that the current constitutional position has been shaped by: A protracted struggle between competing principles and interests: political independence versus electoral accountability; central rather than local power; manufacturing and mercantile interests against the landed gentry… [that has] only partly been played out in constitutional legislation. Oliver (1997: 15) argued that the 1964 Act removed the tension between central government and police authorities and between local authorities and chief constables on the subject of control. After its implementation, there was absolutely no doubt that the ultimate power lay with the Home Secretary and the responsibility for “operational” matters explicitly was limited to chief officers (Jefferson and Grimshaw, 1984 cited in Reiner, 2010). Police authorities were responsible only for securing the “maintenance of an adequate and efficient police force for the area” (section 4.1 of the Act). The common interpretation of the distinction between ‘operational’ and ‘policy’ matters that emerged, in reality was “arbitrary and tendentious” and had no legislative basis Reiner (2010: 227). However, chief officers certainly have exploited the independence of action that distinction afforded them and have taken full advantage of that and other factors (such as the increasing influence of the police lobby, discussed later in this thesis) to strengthen their powers at the expense of police and local authorities and to assert their own ‘operational independence’ from the authorities and from central government (see Reiner, 2010; Loveday, 1998 and Brogden, 1977, for further discussion). Chief constables, individually and through ACPO, have always been keen to assert their right to ‘operational independence’ even though there is no legislative authority for such a right (Lustgarten, 1986). Indeed, Lustgarten (1986: 65) argued the essential correctness of the view first put forward by Marshall (1965). That was to say; that the doctrine of constabulary independence was of recent origin, was “no part of the tradition of ‘English liberty’” and was undeserving of the status afforded it by the judiciary. In Lustgarten’s view, Lord Denning’s landmark judgement in R v Metropolitan Police Commissioner ex parte Blackburn (see [1968] 2 QB 118, 135-136), had “cast a dismal pall over the discussions of police governance” and simply highlighted that the term 40 ‘operational independence’ had no legal provenance whatsoever (1986: 78). Marshall (1965) characterised the relationship between the police service and its political ‘partners’ in this period as ‘explanatory and cooperative’. He contrasted that with the ‘subordinate and obedient’ kind of accountability to local communities, demanded by radical critics (see Reiner, 2010 and Simey, 1988 for further discussion of that radical perspective). A further criticism of police authorities in the period following the 1964 Act, was that they did not even use the limited powers they retained very effectively, often deferring instead to chief constables’ ‘professional expertise’ (see for example Loveday, 1991 and Reiner, 1991). Subsequent restructuring of police governance by the Police and Magistrates Courts Act 1994 (PMCA), delivered what Reiner (2010) called a ‘calculative and contractual’ style of accountability that reflected Government’s centralising agenda and a new commitment within Government to ‘best value’. The PMCA inter alia also modified the size and composition of police authorities and gave them the responsibility for issuing an annual policing plan, ostensibly, in the cause of making them more ‘businesslike’. Reiner (2010: 234) noted that in the “fashionable terminology” of new public management” (discussed below), expressed for example by Osborne and Gaebler, central government after the Act would be “steering but not rowing”. This enabled it, rather than police authorities, to increase control of policing and to “penetrate the parts... [it] could not reach hitherto”, day-to-day operational policing. This would be achieved through a ‘carrot and stick’ approach. The carrot; financial rewards to individual chief officers for attaining targets specified in policing plans (Reiner, 2010). The stick; intervention in ‘failing’ forces or BCUs by the newly established Police Standards Unit (PSU) which would take over some of the management functions of under-performing forces (assessed against a new Police Performance Assessment Framework) (Mawby and Wright, 2003). In practice, the new powers of ‘direction and control’ that the 1994 Act conferred on police authorities benefited them only marginally because, despite Government rhetoric, the PMCA was inherently centrist. The business that the more ‘businesslike’ police authorities were meant to be doing was the business of Government, rather than its own (Reiner, 41 2010). Even where opportunities to influence chief constables emerged, authorities demonstrated a continuing reluctance to challenge chief officers who (freed from detailed financial control by the PMCA) were at liberty to “’row’ in any way they decided. Though as Reiner (2010: 233) noted, the reality was that chief officers’ were able to choose any course they wished, “so long as it was in the direction ‘steered’ by the Home Secretary”. New Public Management The PMCA was introduced during a period in which there was a wider search by Government for new approaches that could deliver economy, efficiency and effectiveness. In other words, better ‘value for money’ in the public sector. Such policies were underpinned by the management philosophy known as New Public Management (NPM). Reiner (2010: 24) argued that the application of what essentially was a private sector model represented a “neo-liberal belief that private enterprise and market models” worked best in the modern era. The first manifestation of NPM in public policy was the Conservative Government’s ‘Financial Management Initiative’ of 1982 which was intended to encourage better financial control of the public sector and the more accurate measurement of the outputs of investment in public resources. Just a year later, the Conservatives’ aspirations for the public sector were translated into police service objectives by Home Office departmental circular 114/1983 which encouraged the application of NPM principles to policing (Burrows and Lewis, 1988). Home Office circulars do not carry the force of law but there is no doubting their significance. For ACPO (2008: 23), circular 114/1983 was “a seminal text that influenced the thoughts and actions of police leaders for a decade or more”. Brooks (2010: 1) noted that it introduced into policing the three E's (efficiency, economy and effectiveness) and ‘policing by objectives’ but also, more importantly in the context of this research, the notion that "what gets measured is what gets done". I will argue later that the idea has skewed operational policing activity because it has encouraged commanders to ignore objective intelligence assessments and to forego longer-term (and potentially more 42 efficient, effective and economic) solutions to policing problems, in their pursuit of short- term performance-related gains in the context of standards imposed by central government. Others too, identified unintended consequences of the circular. For example, Weatheritt (1993: 26-27) found it encouraged systems geared to the “production of more specific local objectives aimed at generating purposeful planned activity” rather than the ‘three Es’. Her research indicated that local objectives were often “formulated on the basis of poor, irrelevant or incomplete information” and were “unrealistic”, particularly when they sought reductions in crime. She concluded that “organisationally, the results of objective-related activity tended to lead nowhere”. Weatheritt argued that it was also difficult to evaluate the extent to which accountability was served by the new systems. Feedback to partners was bound to be of lesser quality than that produced for internal purposes which, because of inadequacies and inefficiencies in the police intelligence structure, already was “patchy” (Weatheritt 1993: 28). Wall (1998: 313) noted that the tensions between the public sector management ethos and the new business ethos of NPM were “fundamentally different” because the former focuses on inputs and outputs whereas the latter involves the much more challenging and complex business of “managing physical acts, public perceptions and political considerations”. For this reason the police initially were able to resist the Conservatives’ plans. However, at the end of the 1980s, as the “love affair” between the Tories and the police cooled and cuts in police expenditure were demanded, real efforts were made to embed NPM reforms in policing (Rawlings, cited in Reiner, 2000: 73). The Conservatives’ ‘setting’ of the Audit Commission on the service was followed, in the early 1990s, by the commissioning of the Sheehy (1993) and Posen (1995) inquiries. Together, these moves by the Home Office challenged the power of chief constables and sought to engineer radical reform in policing (which despite record levels of funding had failed to deliver the reduction in crime that was popularly expected). The attempt to increase central control and to ‘contract out’ ancillary tasks were fiercely opposed by the Police Federation and, even more effectively, by ACPO which was successful in watering- 43 down many of Sheehy’s and Posen’s recommendations (such as fixed-term contracts for officers and performance-related pay). Newburn (2003: 93) argued that in the process, the Association demonstrated that it had become “a highly organised and effective national coordinating body [and] a supremely effective lobbying organisation”. I will argue later that the NIM provides further evidence of ACPO’s effectiveness in that context. The new emphasis on efficient, effective and economic criminal catching was detrimental to the ‘whole service’ approach that some police commanders (including Phillips) saw as so necessary to policing in the modern era. I argue that it served to reinforce the pre-existing divide between the CID and the rest of the service (that I will discuss later in this thesis) because it confirmed the business of detectives, ‘crime fighting’ as ‘real’ policing and many of the functions of the uniformed department as ‘ancillary’ to the policing mission. Certainly, the impact of NPM was felt much less in the CID and arguably had no impact whatsoever on the specialist detective squads which deal with a large proportion of the serious and organised crime in the UK (see Maguire and Norris, 1992 and Morgan et al, 1996). Loveday (1998) argued that NPM actually strengthened the power of the CID (which I will argue later had been in serious decline since the 1970s) because the bureaucracy that accompanied it was based on a series of mistaken assumptions about policing. The most significant of which was that more specialist departments utilising better technologies could make a real difference to crime levels. This had had the effect of siphoning off officers from mainstream patrol duties so that “more and more non- uniformed officers watched fewer uniformed officers do more work that should have been their own” (Loveday, 1998: 3). The Oversight Bureaucracy Beyond the police authorities described in the previous section, a ‘new bureaucracy’ was needed to monitor the progress of senior commanders in implementing NPM reforms. Reiner (2010: 229) argued that rather than trying to achieve this by direct action, central government exercised its influence by proxy through its ‘instruments’: Her Majesty’s 44 Inspectorate of Constabulary (HMIC), ACPO and national specialist policing units” (such as NCIS). I argue here that one reasonably might add to that list, other arrangements inspired by the perceived success of the ‘COMPSTAT’ system in New York City. The Audit Commission too, played a significant part in overhauling policing and investigation at the end of the last century and its role is examined here. The relationship between the Home Office and these bodies is complex and is different in each case. It should perhaps be highlighted that central government may have extended its reach through these bodies but that together with ACPO, these organisations act as an effective community (or network) influencing policing policy at every level (Ryan, Savage and Wall, 2001; Savage, Charman and Cope, 2000 and Wall, 1998). COMPSTAT The word COMPSTAT entered the policing lexicon in 1994. It was coined by New York Police Department (NYPD) commanders and represented a shortening of the terms ‘computer statistics or ‘comparative statistics’ (Maple (1999) one of its chief architects has observed that nobody can be certain which of the terms is accurate). COMPSTAT supported a campaign by the new mayor, Rudolph Giuliani, to drive down crime levels in the city. The COMPSTAT message was that tough and ruthless management of operational resources was key to achieving that goal. Giuliani appointed William Bratton as his police commissioner. Given a free hand to reorganise the NYPD, Bratton embarked on a programme of structural change underpinned by a belief in the new orthodoxy in American police thinking espoused by, amongst others, Wilson and Kelling (Bratton, 1998). The COMPSTAT process was intended to ensure that information was gathered and managed in ways that allowed resources to be targeted at the most pressing policing problems (which I will argue later, was exactly Phillips’ ambition for the NIM). Bratton (1998) argued that internal accountability arrangements were crucial to the success of the project. Precinct commanders were given the authority to address the problems in their areas as they saw fit 45 but were called to account for their decisions by the NYPD’s executive. Weekly Crime Control Strategy Meetings, at which the commanders reported their results, took place in a “data-saturated environment”; central to those meetings were the statistical analyses contained within the weekly COMPSTAT report (Weisburd et al, 2006). The COMPSTAT meetings increased internal accountability but they could be brutal affairs. Persistent failure to meet standards meant demotion or worse. Within 18 months of taking control, Bratton had transferred a third of his precinct commanders and fired four of the five NYPD ‘superchiefs’ (Maple, 1999: 136). His stated intention was that COMPSTAT principles should influence decision-making at all levels of the NYPD. However, little evidence has been found to suggest that diffusion of the system’s aims and objectives took place in practice. COMPSTAT concentrated strategic decision making at the top of the organizational hierarchy rather than promoting initiative among frontline staff in the mainstream (Weisburd et al, 2006), and a survey of US police agencies suggested that “the rank and file remain largely oblivious to COMPSTAT and that it intruded little, if at all, into their daily work” (Willis et al, 2003: 291). Tellingly, Willis et al (2003a: 77) found that COMPSTAT departed markedly from what had been promised and did not “represent a radical transformation in the way these departments have done business” rather, they had “transplanted some new ways of doing business without making much change to some very fundamental structures of police organizations”. Notwithstanding those research findings, the apparent success of COMPSTAT led to the implementation of similar processes and widespread interest from practitioners and researchers across the United States and beyond. Hayes (1998) and Griffiths (1998) (both senior commanders in the Metropolitan Police Service in the 1990s who visited New York City to see Bratton’s ideas in practice) broadly welcomed the development of COMPSTAT and supported its adoption in the UK. Hayes (1998) believed that elements of the COMPSTAT process could be implemented in the UK but that limited resources and the need to meet regional and national demands meant that it was unrealistic to expect it to succeed in its entirety. Importantly in the context of the UK debate, neither of these senior 46 commanders saw COMPSTAT as a replacement for existing management and oversight mechanisms (Griffiths, 1998). COMPSTAT was designed to serve the NYPD and New York City’s communities. It was not intended that it should play a part in addressing state level or federal challenges and in that respect, the process can be seen as rather inward looking (However, the complete lack of state or federal funding for the programme might explain this apparent parochialism). Weisburd et al (2003) have argued that COMPSTAT succeeded in the USA because it complemented existing strategic problem-solving processes and it seemed to have achieved so much in New York City. However, the greater appeal of COMPSTAT for US police departments was that although it promised innovation in organisation, strategies and tactics, in reality it did not “demand a revolution in the organisational structure of the military model of policing” (Weisburd et al, 2003: 449). Rather than offering real reform, COMPSTAT served only to reinforce the traditional control elements of the rational-legal, bureaucratic, police organisational model in the United States which made the system more palatable for US commanders. Perhaps that fact points to the relative success of COMPSTAT (as perceived by police commanders) when judged against the NIM. Phillips’ plans for his model required wholesale structural change in frontline policing services. As such, they challenged many orthodoxies and traditions in British policing. I will argue in later chapters that it was the British police elite’s resistance to accepting that challenge that was the greatest difficulty that the NIM faced. I will also show that the NIM implementation team learned little from the COMPSTAT experience. HMIC Since the County and Borough Police Act 1856, oversight of British policing has been the responsibility of HMIC. The first three inspectors of constabulary came from military backgrounds; two had previously held the post of chief constable (Wall, 1998). They were required to certify the efficiency of forces by means of an annual report to Parliament. 47 Certification was extremely important for local finances because it meant that the force would receive one quarter of its annual pay and clothing costs from the Treasury in the form of an ‘efficiency grant’ (Emsley, 1991). Section 38 of the Police Act 1964 confirmed the inspectors’ pivotal role in the oversight of police forces. Mawby and Wright (2003) argued that HMIC occupies an unusual constitutional position in that inspectors have independent status as servants of the Crown rather than as Home Office employees. However, it has been criticised for favouring the government of the day. Hence, Reiner’s (2010) observation that the inspectorate is an instrument of government. Mawby and Wright (2003: 188) do not disagree with Reiner’s position but they have argued that HMIC’s self-image as a representative of the rational-legal bureaucracy is unsurprising given its history. From the establishment of HMIC until 1993 (when the first lay inspectors were appointed), all HMIs were recruited by government from the senior ranks of the police service. Inspectors were of chief constable or assistant chief constable rank and largely were in the final years of their police career. Therefore, not only did inspectors owe their continuing employment in their chosen profession to government patronage but they also were steeped in the bureaucratic tradition of the police service. It was only to be expected that the resulting organisation would be conservative to the core and would tend to reinforce the traditional hierarchy and orthodoxy of the service. During the 1980s, HMIC’s role was broadened and enhanced (Weatheritt, 1986 cited in Jones, 2003). Significantly, the inspection process itself was standardised, lay inspectors were appointed and younger chief officers who were encouraged to see appointment to HMIC as offering the prospect of further advancement in the service (Reiner, 2010). Currently, HMIC is made up of a total of 10 inspectors or assistant inspectors, three of whom are from a non-police background. Inspectors carry out force and Basic Command Unit (BCU) inspections as well as thematic inspections of discrete policing areas (for example, ‘diversity’ (HMIC, 2003) and particularly significant in the context of this 48 study, ‘intelligence’ (HMIC, 1997). Since 2004, HMIC inspectors have held the primary responsibility for assessing NIM compliance in England and Wales. HMIC’s mission is to “promote efficiency and effectiveness through inspection and assessment… to ensure that: performance is improved; good practice is spread; and standards are agreed, achieved and maintained”. Its role has been explained in the Police Acts (1994 and 1996) and the Local Government Act (1999) (Mawby and Wright, 2003). HMIC also provides advice and support to criminal justice system partners and “plays an important roll (sic) in the development of future police leaders” (HMIC, 2004: 2). HMIC’s work therefore is to scrutinise the performance of the police service and it does this through an increasingly elaborate matrix of performance indicators (Reiner, 2010); since the codification of the NIM on 12th January 2005, one of those performance indicators has been the application of the NIM.8 This is a subject of discussion throughout the thesis. Though HMIC plays the premier role in inspection activity, since 1988 the police have also been scrutinised by “professional outsiders” (Weatheritt 1993 cited in Mawby and Wright, 2003: 188). Chief amongst these has been the Audit Commission. Audit Commission Though the Audit Commission’s influence has declined, in the period that the NIM was formulated it played an extremely important role in reshaping perceptions of criminal investigation. The Commission was introduced in 1982 by the Local Government Finance Act and its establishment clearly illustrated the shift towards what Reiner (1993) called a ‘calculative and contractual’ model of governance. The Commission’s remit was to scrutinize local government spending and NPM principles in the public sector (Mawby and Wright, 2003), by assessing the performance of public bodies against a limited set of performance indicators (Newburn, 2003). It first focused its attention on the police in 1988 8 Section 2.3.1 of the NIM Code of Practice directs that “HM Inspectorate of Constabulary will inspect police forces in England and Wales to ensure compliance with this code and with the Minimum Standards document of April 2003 (and any successor document)”. 49 and in the following 11 years published a variety of reports on: police funding, crime management, and police patrol (Mawby and Wright, 2003). Jones (2003: 615) argued that the establishment of the Commission was emblematic of the increasing national control of policing in the 1980s. He argued that its purpose was to provide “vigorous external scrutiny for the inspection process conducted by HMIC. Weatheritt (1993) suggested that the Commission quickly became a key player in the policing milieu, producing a series of highly critical reports aimed at stimulating a new drive for value for money in policing (cited in Reiner, 2010). Other commentators agreed that the Commission played a significant role in influencing policing policy at the end of the twentieth century through its continuing focus on performance management and the promulgation of best practice (see Newburn, 2003 and Savage et al, 2000). Savage et al (2000) agreed that the Commission demonstrated skill in identifying and disseminating best practice. However, this was not always valued within the service with one ACPO respondent in their study noting that: I have yet to read an Audit Commission report that tells me anything I didn’t already know... [it] goes around, steals your best ideas and puts it in a flashy, excellently prepared and beautifully presented document… and they always seem to present it in a way that they’ve discovered the meaning of life and the Holy Grail” (cited in Savage et al, 2000: 135). This clearly was a minority view because the Commission developed close relations with ACPO. It was extremely successful in influencing mainstream policing policy, and for a period at the end of the last century the Commission and ACPO worked symbiotically so that the latter welcomed investigations as the means of providing impetus for reform (Savage et al, 2000). The Commission often consulted ACPO over its selection of topics for investigation and there was even some evidence that its activities led some ACPO members to believe that it had overtaken HMIC as the premier scrutinising body. Savage et al (2000) highlighted that the Commission was especially influential on policing for only a short period and that by the end of the century it had turned its attention to other areas of the criminal justice system. However, commentators have acknowledged that its influence on police history was considerable (see Reiner, 2010; Newburn, 2003; Savage et al, 2000). 50 Public Policymaking The essentially “complex and multi-layered” public policy process (Hill, 2009: 4), has been the subject of considerable research (see for example, Hill, 2006 and 1993; Marsh and Rhodes, 1996; Weaver, 1986; Albrow, 1980; Lipsky 1980). There is a consensus that the sociology of organisations makes an important contribution to the study of the policy process because most policymaking takes place within institutions (see for example Hill, 2009 and Hay, 2002). Hill (2009: 9) argued that sociology is particularly important in interpreting the translation of policies (like the NIM) into action and “exploring issues about the behaviour of workers within complex organisations (among which state bureaucracies loom large)”. A range of theories have been developed to explain the public policymaking and policy implementation processes. Some concern themselves with bureaucratic power and the domination of those within the institutions affected by the policy. For example the ‘garbage can’ model advanced by March and Olsen (1996: 251) posits that actors “act within definitions of alternatives, consequences, preferences (interests), and strategic options” that are strongly affected by their institutional contexts. An institutional theory-linked approach which captures the environment within which the NIM was conceived and developed is Kingdon’s ‘Agenda Setting’ approach. Kingdon conceives of an agenda as a “list of subjects or problems to which governmental officials, and people outside of government closely associated with those officials, are paying serious attention to at any given time” (Kingdon, 2003: 3). Rather than being comprehensive or rational, solutions are connected to problems and both are connected to “favourable political forces” (Kingdon, 2003: 20). The combination of these elements is most likely when policy entrepreneurs (such as Phillips) take advantage of “policy windows” opened by those problems or political imperatives. Therefore the prominence of an idea on an agenda relies not on its source nor even on the fact that there may be an entrepreneur encouraging policy change but rather it is the “climate in government or the receptivity of ideas of a given type” that is key (Kingdon, 2003: 72). 51 However, Kingdon’s approach is limited in that it does not fully consider the policy implementation process. Hill (2009) argues that once policy leaves the rarefied atmosphere in which it was created, it is influenced by the reality of the outside world so that it becomes much more complex as it is translated into action. Therefore, implementation may itself be an ambiguous concept. Early implementation studies focused on examining the process of putting a policy into action (see for example Pressman and Wildavsky, 1973). Later that approach, labelled ‘top-down’ by contemporary researchers (such as Hill and Hupe, 2009), was challenged by those such as Elmore (1981) who argued for a ‘bottom-up’ perspective that recognised that “implementation actors are forced to make choices between programmes which conflict or interact with each other” (Hill, 2009: 203). Sabatier suggested that the presence of a “dominant piece of legislation structuring the situation” may help to determine the best research approach (cited in Hill, 2009: 204). Sabatier (1986: 24) produced a flow diagram of the public policy implementation process which is attached at Appendix B. Though generic and predating the NIM by at least 14 years, Sabatier’s model of policy implementation provides a lens through which the implementation of the NIM may be evaluated. Above all, Sabatier highlights that public policies rarely achieve their aims without major revision and that policymakers and those tasked with implementation must be flexible, resourceful and willing to reach compromises, to achieve their goals. Summary In compiling this chapter of ‘relevant literature’, I sought only to establish the context for my research of the NIM. I have included here only those topics or dimensions of policing that have a direct relevance to the emergence or implementation of the model and then, only as much material about each as readers ‘need to know’ to fully appreciate the contribution of this research. I included abridged analyses of the introduction of: innovative policing strategies at the end of the twentieth century; the police organisation; governance and oversight of the police; and police and public policymaking. 52 I analysed the emergence of the innovative policing strategies that gained favour in the last decade of the twentieth century as police forces searched for effective, efficient and economic crime control strategies that promised to be qualitatively ‘better’ than the reactive strategies they replaced. I situated the roots of those intelligence-led approaches in the UBP experiment of the 1960s, examined their re-emergence as ILP in the 1990s. I questioned the degree to which ILP really has replaced the reactive policing paradigm. Those are subjects that I will explore in some detail later. I selected literature on the police organisation. I focused on research that described the contemporary structure of the organisation and those other aspects of the police milieu that are key to understanding the NIM. I will later argue, that understanding the operation of forces and relations both between and within individual police forces, and between different branches of the service, is crucial to the understanding of the NIM’s emergence and implementation. Issues of governance and oversight add another dimension to the debate. Whilst they provide only limited information about the emergence and implementation of the NIM, I argue that they may to some extent explain the service’s ultimate rejection of the model. I highlighted the key role in policymaking that can be played by a ‘policy entrepreneur’. Later, I examine Phillips’ contribution to the emergence of the NIM and assess whether he may be considered a policy entrepreneur in that context. Accepting Sabatier’s (1986) assertion that public policies rarely achieve their aims without major revision, I will examine the extent to which the NIM policymakers and those tasked with implementation were flexible, resourceful and willing to reach compromises to achieve Phillips’ goals. 53 Chapter 2 - Research Methods Introduction Examining the NIM offers a valuable insight into public and policing policy, police intelligence work, contemporary organisational structures and investigative practice in the mainstream. My research is based on analyses of archival and official records, documentary materials, my own observations, and the collected views and experiences of the senior police commanders, police officers, police staff, and other officers and officials from Government, local government and other bodies who participated in this study. Rationale The research aimed to explain the emergence, development and implementation of the NIM, a key piece of policing policy at the beginning of the new millennium. It aimed to evaluate the model against the background of claims (made by the NIM’s architects) that its integration into strategic policing plans would revolutionise investigative practice. That it would allow the service to make more effective use of its intelligence and its people, to reduce crime, improve community safety and encourage the development of inclusive policing partnerships. The confidence its architects had in the model, perhaps is best illustrated by a statement made to a Home Office official by the co-author of the NIM, an NCIS senior executive and former senior police officer in Kent (N02). According to that senior executive, the model heralded a new era in investigation in which intelligence work would be allied to operational policing activity in the mainstream to deliver a “ten percent reduction in crime within two years, probably”. I argue that in the history of policing, few senior law enforcement officers have countenanced making such an ambitious claim for a policing strategy and that even fewer would be willing to announce it to their political masters in the Home Office. The NIM demanded explanation and evaluation. 54 Research Aims and Research Question The specific aims of the research were to:- 1. Assess the extent to which developments in investigative practice and intelligence work contributed to the emergence of the NIM. 2. Explain the policing policy environment at the end of the twentieth century. 3. Explain the emergence of the NIM from that milieu. 4. Evaluate the impact of the NIM on investigative practice and intelligence work in mainstream policing. 5. Evaluate the implementation process. A table that describes the aims, research objectives, and the individual chapters in which they are addressed is attached at Appendix C. Dunleavy (2003: 33) recommends that researchers frame their research around “an intellectual problem or a paradox”, focusing on a “set of phenomena that ask for an explanation... and for which [the researcher] can formulate an interesting and effective answer”. Ultimately, the question that this thesis set out to answer was simply, ‘What is the National Intelligence Model, why did it emerge and how has it influenced police organisational structures and investigative practice’? Research Design Hill (2009: 4-5) highlighted that research of the public policy process may broadly be categorised either as the “analysis of policy” by policy analysts interested in furthering the understanding of a particular policy or as “analysis for policy” by those interested in improving the quality of policy. He notes that there is a third category of analysis which includes researchers who are interested in combining both activities. This research falls into that third category. Having decided on a topic for study, I accepted Guba and Lincoln’s (2009) advice that researchers need to make their ontological and epistemological assumptions explicit before beginning their research). The research tools I selected for the study were 55 determined both by those assumptions and by the prior research in the field. In designing my study, I was well aware of Gidden’s (1976) warning that social reality affects both the researcher and the researched, and that it is wholly unrealistic to expect that any subject in the social sciences could be examined in isolated terms by value free observers. As the introduction to this thesis explains, I could not claim to be a ‘value free observer’. In terms of ‘social reality’, I was particularly conscious of the insider/outsider debate in research (as identified for example, by Reiner and Newburn, 2007). My experiences in criminal investigation and intelligence work shaped my preconceptions, attitudes and beliefs and my view of the NIM and ILP was bound to differ from those of an ‘outsider’. I accepted that position brought with it advantages and disadvantages. I used my ‘insider’ knowledge to better understand the intelligence world and to describe the change processes involved in terms of the respondents’ own experiences. I attended the Metropolitan Police Intelligence Managers’ Course and Advanced Informer Management Course. I exploited my position as a Centrex trainer to secure a temporary post in the intelligence faculty at NCPE where I delivered the National Intelligence Management and Covert Law Enforcement Managers’ Courses. I was also able to secure a place on the Bramshill ‘Fellowship’ scheme which is administered by the National Policing Improvement Agency (NPIA). The scheme is designed to encourage academic research into topical policing issues. Other than requiring that a single copy of the Fellow’s thesis is presented to the National Police Library at Bramshill, it makes no demands on researchers. The fellowship provided official sanction for my research and I credit it with encouraging police officers and staff to give freely of their time. The next stage in the design process was to use my inside knowledge to identify and gain access to key actors in policing. This included access to Phillips and members of ACPO’s NIM Implementation Team who at that time were formulating intelligence policy. Phillips agreed to be interviewed and characteristically took the opportunity to offer me advice on my research design. All the other ACPO members and force executives that I contacted simply agreed to give of their time to discuss ILP and the NIM; many of their 56 contributions are recorded in this thesis. With the exception of one ‘Urban’ senior intelligence official (who is identified in the subsequent chapters as respondent N050), I had had no previous contact with any of the elite respondents. I first met the senior intelligence official (N050) in 2002 in the course of my work with NCPE where I was employed as a visiting trainer. At her request, I carried out field research into the Home Office's 'Safer Streets' initiative on behalf of the Urban force. At that time I expressed an interest in researching the NIM and she agreed to help to facilitate my research. I welcomed her offer of assistance as I knew that gaining sufficient and relevant access would be challenging. The tools and techniques of intelligence work are carefully guarded and intelligence material is subject to the Government Protective Marking Scheme (GPMS) (see Cumbria Constabulary, 2004), and to legislation such as the Human Rights Act 2000, the Data Protection Act 1998 and the Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act 2000. Thus, access to intelligence officers and to the product of their work requires careful negotiation. I wanted to study forces that were likely to offer significantly contrasting perspectives on the NIM. Fortunately, the senior intelligence official (N050) was willing to act as the research ‘gatekeeper’ and offered access to the Urban force which is one of the largest police forces in Britain. She played a key role in facilitating my access to senior commanders, Urban executives and to borough commanders, and in helping me to overcome the access issues I describe here. Lee (1993 cited in Grønning, 1997) highlighted the key role that gatekeepers play in research. Gatekeepers usually are managers in positions that allow them to exert a measure of control over the research environment or are otherwise able to influence the research. He identified that they may be concerned with the picture of the organization that the research will paint and this can lead them to protect their own, legitimate, interests by exercising a degree of control over the research. Hammersley and Atkinson, (1995) have observed that gatekeepers may block off certain lines of inquiry or shepherd the fieldworker in directions that present the organisation in the most favourable light. However, to the best of my knowledge, these were not issues that presented themselves in 57 this research. The senior intelligence official (N050) did not attempt overtly to steer, shape or block my work in any way. I was given complete freedom to choose the BCU(s) in which I would carry out my fieldwork. I considered a number of Urban’s inner-city BCUs. Eventually, I settled on a culturally and ethnically diverse BCU that had a history of social problems. This enabled me to see the NIM in operation in the most challenging of operational policing conditions. I learnt that the BCU fell into the ‘problematic’ (or ‘challenged’ as one respondent later described it in interview) category for the Urban force. This meant that it was subject to scrutiny from the force executive but also benefited from extra resources aimed at enabling it to meet Home Office performance targets. The senior intelligence official (N050) took no further part in the research in Urban beyond effecting my introduction to the BCU commander. I personally negotiated access to the NIM and other management meetings and to other BCU staff. Unfortunately, as is very common in policing, shortly after our initial meeting that commander left the borough to attend a series of courses designed to equip him for higher command and he was absent for the duration of the fieldwork but I was able to confirm the arrangements with his deputy who honoured his commitment. The temporary commander introduced me to the BCU's senior analyst (N039) who became my point of contact in the Urban BCU for the period of the research. The second case (designated ‘County’ for the purpose of the study) was one of five forces considered for the study. The factors that influenced the choice of those forces were their proximity to the Urban force (thereby facilitating study by a single part-time researcher in full-time employment) and the contrast with the first case that they offered in terms of their size, social problems and operational capability. I wrote to the chief officer of each force. My letters highlighted my Bramshill Fellowship, the prior agreement of the Urban force and the senior intelligence official’s role as gatekeeper. My communication was acknowledged by all five forces. County was the first force to respond positively. I was keen to begin my fieldwork and therefore arranged a meeting with County’s Deputy 58 Chief Constable at his earliest convenience (which was about two weeks after the force had agreed in principle to the research). The senior intelligence official (N050) took no part in my negotiations in County. The DCC approved access on the condition that I would not identify it by name. I agreed to this condition as it is one commonly imposed on researchers and I did not consider that it would limit or constrain my research in any meaningful way. The DCC allowed me the freedom to choose any of the force’s BCUs for more in-depth study. I selected the BCU that my preliminary research indicated provided the greatest contrast (in terms of geography, demography and policing problems) with the selected BCU in the Urban force. I met with the BCU commander (N027). He agreed to facilitate the research and appointed the BCU's intelligence manager (N019) as my point of contact for the research. I believe that the senior intelligence official’s association with the research and my Bramshill fellowship were significant factors in securing agreement for the research. However, that agreement was only the first stage in the research process. Organisational politics present many challenges to the researcher. Carrying out and publishing research in any organisation are political acts; when the research relates to one’s own organization, it may be considered to be particularly so. Indeed “it might be considered subversive” (Coghlan and Brannick, 2001: 64). My extensive police career made me well aware of the potentially hazardous competing and conflicting relationships that exist in bureaucratic hierarchies such as the police service. However, I believe that the strategies that I adopted helped me to overcome many of those challenges. Methods My research aimed to establish the NIM narrative, to find the story that best represented the emergence and development of the model and its impact on intelligence work and investigative practice by drawing on the existing research on the public policy process, contexts, experiences and narratives of practitioners. I located that analysis, conceptually, within a wider policy framework. Qualitative methods have been used successfully in this 59 context many times (see for example; Innes, Fielding and Cope, 2005; John and Maguire, 2003). Though some may consider qualitative research ‘soft’, qualitative data can be rich, nuanced and textured. In terms of the style of research to be conducted, qualitative was the obvious choice. Researchers may aspire to objectivity and give proper regard to the validity and reliability of their work but there can be no doubt that “criteria of representation ultimately are decided by the researcher” and the researcher alone (Stake, 1994: 240). What is important is that the right design and the correct epistemological principles are matched to the question set. So in that context, one of the most important decisions that a researcher has to make in planning the research is to match the research design to the research question. I selected an interpretive approach to the research because such an approach “acknowledges the intimate relationship between the researcher and what is being explored, and the situational constraints shaping this process” (Rowlands, 2005: 81). Interpretive research does not predefine dependent or independent variables, does not set out to test hypotheses, but instead aims to produce an “understanding of the social context the phenomenon and the process whereby the phenomenon influences and is influenced by the social context (Walsham, 1995 cited in Rowlands, 2005: 81-82). I complemented my interpretive approach with two case studies. Dubé and Paré (2003) have argued that case study research involves the examination of a contemporary phenomenon in a real-life context or setting. Either a single or several entities (such as a person, a group, an organization or a technology) are examined intensively in its/their social context: no manipulation is involved (Dubé and Paré 2003). In both case studies, I carried out action research in the form of observations of relevant meetings and interactions. Carrying out case study research implies the use of several collection methods (e.g. document analysis, interviews and questionnaires) and data analysis methods (e.g. field notes and coding or other statistical methods to provide triangulation (Dubé and Paré 2003). All were used in this study. 60 Triangulation can contribute both to the reliability (that is, the extent to which the application of the same research design produces the same result each time it is used under the same condition with the same subjects) and validity (that is, that the research leads to valid conclusions) of the case study. I carried out archival research, examined primary documentary sources, carried out semi-structured interviews with police officers, police staff and others whose work might have been influenced by the NIM and facilitated focus groups to include the views of those individuals who did not perceive their work to be so influenced. In order to collect credible and relevant data and to achieve a valid and reliable outcome, I spent many hours during the fieldwork conducting interviews with the sponsor and author of the NIM, with police commanders, with intelligence workers, with patrol officers, with representatives of local authorities and with members and officials of police authorities, carrying out direct observations and in examining documents and archive materials. Thus the case study’s “unique strength” (Yin, 2003: 8), the ability to deal with a full range of evidence beyond that which might be obtained through a conventional historical study, was demonstrated. Using a case study for research purposes has been described as ‘one of the most challenging of all social science endeavours (Yin, 2003: 1). The case study is “an empirical inquiry that investigates a contemporary phenomenon within its real-life context (Yin, 2003: 13 - 14). I observed many ‘real-life’ interactions during the course of my fieldwork. The real challenge in that context was the ‘real-life’ aspect of the research. I used my inside knowledge of policing and intelligence work to collect data from a wide variety of sources. This allowed me to cope with the “technically distinctive situation in which there will be many more variables of interest than data points” wherein results rely on “multiple sources of evidence with data needing to converge in a triangulating fashion” (Yin, 2003: 13 - 14). Data Collection 61 The research data consisted of archival and secondary material and primary data in the form of my own observations of the NIM in action and interview records. I conducted most of the interviews between September 2005 and June 2007. Though further interviews were conducted in 2007 and 2008 as gaps in the data were identified. It has been argued that the ‘best’ respondent is “one who has the knowledge and experience the researcher requires, has the ability to reflect, is articulate, has the time to be interviewed, and is willing to participate in the study” (Morse, 1994: 228). In this study, I anticipated that interviews would provide the richest, most textured data and this was my preferred option for each respondent. I interviewed a purposive sample of my population which included members of the police elite who played a significant role in the emergence and development of the NIM, those involved in the management of police operations in the mainstream and intelligence workers. I also interviewed senior Home Office officials and police authority members and officials and local authority members and officials. I preferentially recruited respondents that my preparatory work indicated, had knowledge and experience of the NIM and intelligence work. In addition, I conducted focus groups with the aim of obtaining a wider set of views on the NIM and intelligence work. Powell et al (1996) have defined a focus group as a group of individuals selected and assembled to discuss, from their personal experience, the subject of the research. In this study I wanted to obtain the views of frontline officers and staff that had played no part in the emergence of the NIM and were not directly involved in intelligence work. I played no part in the selection of these groups. Participants were chosen by their supervisors and simply represented those officers and members of staff who were available on the day appointed for the group to meet. In 2009, to fill a gap in the data on UBP and the development of the collator system I placed an advertisement in the magazine of the National Association of Retired Police Officers (NARPO) seeking the opinions of former collators on their experiences of intelligence work. The magazine is circulated to all former officers who join NARPO. A number of former collators or local intelligence officers (N030, N046, N059, N060, N061, 62 N062 and N064) initially contacted me by e-mail and later provided written responses that reflected on their experiences of UBP and local intelligence systems. Also in 2009, to fill a further gap in the research on specialist detectives, a group of serving Urban serious crime squad detectives (N034, N048, N079, and N080) provided written responses on the nature of their work and their relationship with other branches of the police service. These respondents represented a purposive sample of serious crime squad detectives. Again, I preferentially recruited respondents who, my research indicated, had knowledge and experience of the NIM and intelligence work. Units of Analysis A detailed breakdown of the research involved interpreting the general history of investigative practice, intelligence work and the NIM and the case studies of NIM implementation. The general history was established through archival research at the National Police Library, Bramshill, Hampshire; the Metropolitan Police Library at Peel Centre, Colindale, North London; the National Archives at Kew, West London and the British Library, the analysis of primary documentary material, secondary documentary material and through semi-structured interviews. The National Archive provided a wealth of material on the development of the CID and investigative practice. I was able to access many Metropolitan Police records (mainly from HO 287, MEPO 2, MEPO 3 and MEPO 12) including a very large file that contained details of the proceedings of the Home Office Committee on Detective Work (1933-1936). The archived file seems to have been Metropolitan Police Assistant Commissioner Norman Kendall’s personal record of the proceedings as it is heavily annotated by him. It is a weighty document though it is probably incomplete. Nevertheless, it is an extremely valuable resource given the Home Office’s reluctance to share its own record of the committee’s work. Williamson et al (2007) recorded that in 2007, the Home Office’s file of proceedings remained classified and unavailable to researchers. 63 Another important source of data was the biographical (in some cases, autobiographical) accounts of former members of the service elite. I was able to draw on the published autobiographies of Robert Mark and David McNee (both former Commissioners of the Metropolitan Police), Gilbert Kelland (former Assistant Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police), William Bratton (former Chief of the New York Police Department (NYPD), Jack Maple (former senior commander NYPD) and on audio recordings of interviews with Arthur Hambleton (former Chief Constable of Dorset) and John Alderson (former Chief Constable of Devon and Cornwall) that were made for Granada Television’s World in Action. I also drew on the published biographies of Charles Vincent (the first chief of the Criminal Investigation Department) and Basil Thomson (head of the Metropolitan Police CID, 1913-1919). Urban and County forces (and their respective selected BCUs) each represented a unit of analysis in this study. The case studies relied on observations, interviews, focus groups and the analysis of various intelligence products generated in the two forces. The case studies used both primary and secondary sources of data. Three strategic meetings, six tactical meetings, two weekly intelligence meetings, daily management meetings, daily intelligence meetings and a variety of consultative forums were observed in each force. Investigative Practice, Intelligence Work and the NIM The following interviewees provided data on the history of investigative practice, intelligence work and the creation, development and implementation of the NIM:- Sir David Phillips, Director of NCPE, former President of ACPO and Chief Constable of Kent Police N01 – ACPO member, with responsibility for crime policy N02 – NCIS senior executive, co-author of the NIM N03 - ACPO member who played a key role in NIM implementation N04 – former ACPO member N05 – APA official 64 N06 - ACPO member (intelligence) N013 - Home Office official N017 - detective constable and FIO in Urban N050 - senior official in charge of NIM implementation in Urban N053 - ACPO member N054 – NCPE executive N055 - former detective inspector, head of force intelligence bureau (FIB) in a West Country force and NCPE trainer N063 - former detective chief inspector and NCS commander N065 - Home Office senior official N084 – intelligence analyst I obtained written contributions for the same purpose from:- N034 – specialist detective (sergeant) N048 – specialist detective (inspector) N051- former detective superintendent N079 - specialist detective (inspector) N080 - specialist detective (sergeant) Urban Case Study The following interviewees contributed data to the Urban case study:- N015 - senior official, strategy unit N016 – inspector, corporate tasking and coordination N017 - detective constable and FIO N030 – former constable and collator N031 – member of senior command team N033 - BCU commander N035 - BCU detective chief inspector 65 N036 - BCU chief inspector, ‘partnerships’ N038 - BCU detective inspector, intelligence manager N039 - BCU senior analyst N040 - BCU constable, intelligence researcher N042 - BCU detective sergeant, focus desk supervisor N043 - BCU analyst N044 - BCU analyst N045 - BCU constable, FIO N052 – local police authority member N050 - senior official in charge of NIM implementation in Urban N053 - ACPO member N058 – local authority crime reduction manager N062 - former detective sergeant and intelligence officer N098 – Urban DOI The following respondents participated in Urban focus groups:- N049 – BCU constable (patrol officer) N066 - BCU constable (patrol officer) N070 - BCU sergeant (criminal justice unit) To complement the Urban field research, I obtained written responses from:- N046 - former constable and collator N059 - former constable and collator N060 - former constable, collator and local intelligence officer N064 - former constable and collator N079 – specialist detective (inspector) County Case Study 66 The following interviewees contributed data to the County case study:- N08 - county council analyst N09 - county council crime reduction manager N010 – local authority chief executive N011 - chair of the local police authority N018 - BCU detective sergeant, intelligence manager N019 - BCU intelligence manager N020 - BCU intelligence researcher N022 - BCU senior analyst N023 - BCU analyst N024 - BCU analyst N025 - BCU assistant analyst N026 - principal analyst N027 - BCU commander N028 - BCU CDRP chief inspector N029 - BCU CDRP chief inspector N032 – County DOI N074 - BCU police constable, schools liaison N099 - local authority chief executive The following respondents participated in County focus groups:- N075 - BCU constable (patrol officer) N076 - BCU constable (patrol officer) N077 - BCU constable (patrol officer) Data Analysis All four focus groups and most interviews were tape recorded. The exceptions were the interviews with respondents N057 (not recorded because of a malfunction in the recording 67 equipment), N08, N09 and N019 (conducted in public places where the level of background noise meant that recording was impractical). I made contemporaneous notes of those sessions. Interview tape transcription was a significant issue. Just over 43 hours and 6 minutes of conversation were recorded. I transcribed all these tapes myself. It has been argued that transcription is “a pivotal aspect of qualitative inquiry” (Oliver et al 2005: 1273). Transcription practices have been described in terms of a continuum. At one end lies “naturalism” in which everything in the interview is transcribed with as much detail as possible. Therefore, the transcript reflects a verbatim depiction of speech (Schegloff, 1997 cited in Oliver et al, 2005). At the other end lies “denaturalism” in which any idiosyncrasies in speech are removed (Oliver et al, 2005: 1273-1274). I transcribed respondents’ verbal responses in full. I ignored ‘idiosyncrasies’ and other non- verbal responses. I transcribed my questions only to the extent that was necessary to make sense of them for me. I was interested less in the specifics of communication than the informational content of the transcript. I collected together all the primary documentary material (including copies of official records), the interview and focus group transcripts, the written responses and my own field notes in a textual database. I then coded my data in as objective and open- minded a fashion as I was able. My coding efforts in the main were guided by Charmaz’s (2003) advice that when coding in this way one should pose simple questions about the data such as: ‘What are people doing’? ‘What is being said’? ‘What do actions and statements take for granted’? ‘What is the context’? Most codes emerged from the data. However, some codes emerged from previous research in the field (particularly the research carried out by John and Maguire (2003)) and some (a small minority of the total codes used) were influenced by my own assumptions (acknowledged in Chapter 1). Data analysis was later facilitated by the use of the QSR NVivo software package. NVivo was used to create hierarchical index systems of the ideas that emerged from the data analysis. The software enabled me much more easily to identify appropriate codes, categories and concepts and to reduce a mass of date to a manageable resource. However, I 68 adopted this package some three years into the study and thus a large amount of back record conversion was required. In terms of the presentation of the analysed data, the thesis is somewhat unusual in that there is not a discrete analysis section. I argue that this seeming omission is conceptually consistent (in terms of the research itself which separately considers both the emergence of the NIM and NIM implementation) and that the strategy that I adopted, does not limit the strength of the analysis but adds texture and depth to the narrative and allows the reader more easily to assess the extent to which the thesis achieves its aims and, ultimately, answers the research question. Ethical Issues I carried out the research with due regard for the LSE Research Ethics Policy, the Ethics Review Guidance for Researchers and the LSE publication ‘Informed Consent’. I also gave proper regard to the six core principles for ethical research described in the ESRC Research Ethics Framework (ESRC, 2009). As this chapter shows, I designed, reviewed and undertook the research in a way that ensured its integrity and quality. I adopted best practice in carrying out interviews, focus groups, observation and other similar methods of data collection. In that, I gave all respondents an information sheet that provided them with the aim, purpose and intended use of the data. None of the respondents was a member of what would usually be considered to be a vulnerable group. I ensured that there were no specific risks that arose in relation to their participation and none of the research respondents raised any concerns about the research or the use to which the material generated would be put. The research was carried out openly. Initially all respondents were guaranteed anonymity, with the exception of Phillips whose unique contribution to the NIM is identified in the thesis. This was confirmed in writing in the information sheet. At the beginning of each interview or focus group, all respondents signed a consent form which I then stored in an evidentiary database. Phillips communicated with me by e-mail and gave 69 consent for the inclusion of his contributions here. All respondents other than he, were assigned a unique reference number; all their contributions to the thesis are attributed to that reference number. I have retained the recordings and transcriptions. Respondents may access their own contributions on request. The research also will be available to respondents from the National Police Library, Bramshill. All participation in the study was voluntary. No deception was practised and all respondents freely gave their consent. I personally informed respondents that they could refuse to participate or withdraw from the research at any time. One prospective member of an Urban focus group declined any involvement during my explanation of the research and they were allowed to leave the group immediately. One respondent chose to make his own recording of the research interview. There were no untoward incidents and at its conclusion the respondent expressed complete satisfaction with the conduct of the interview. I conducted the research in a way that minimised harm or risk to the respondents. All interviews and focus groups were conducted in places and at times mutually agreed in advance. All respondents chose to be interviewed in their workplaces and I was happy to agree those arrangements. Respondents gave freely of their time. Senior officers made themselves available during office hours and, as the research had ‘official’ sanction; supervisors invariably arranged the duties of junior officers and staff to allow them to participate in the study. To the best of my knowledge no pressure was put on respondents either to participate in the research or to present their views in a particular way. Though I recognise that ‘official sanction’ can sometimes result in ‘official’ responses, I do not consider that was a significant factor in this research. I selected respondents for interview on the basis of their knowledge of intelligence work or the NIM. I applied purposive sampling techniques to ensure both that a broad range of understanding or expertise in intelligence work was obtained and that different levels of the police hierarchy or partnership structure were represented in the study. So that, for example, the views of ACPO members, police senior and middle managers and 70 frontline staff were included. The views of those not directly employed in intelligence work were obtained through focus groups. Individuals who attended those groups were selected by their own supervisors on the basis of their role (that is, other than being employed in intelligence work) and their availability. There were an almost equal number of male and female focus group participants. In my view, no group was ‘unreasonably’ excluded from the study and to the best of my knowledge no participant’s interests were damaged as a result of their participation. I tried to ensure that the independence and impartiality of the research was clear. There were no obvious conflicts of interest or partiality in the study though it was inevitable that my research was influenced by my own assumptions and beliefs as an insider. I have acknowledged all contributions in the thesis as well as the source of my funding (through the Bramshill Fellowship Scheme). I had complete control over the results of the study and retain that control over most of the material generated during the course of the research; the exception being the NIM intelligence documents produced by Urban and County which remain the property of those forces. As noted above, one respondent holds a copy of his own research interview. Research Challenges Research at the Bramshill Library produced some interesting material, particularly on the subject of UBP. However, as a Bramshill Fellow and police pensioner I was disappointed to be denied access to the collection on retirement from the service. Research at the National Archives was interesting and rewarding. I discovered several handwritten original letters and reports written by the first chief of detectives, Charles Vincent, and his contemporaries. Deciphering these documents was extremely time-consuming but it was an important task given the way in which they illuminated and contextualised some of the decisions made by those early detectives. A real disappointment was my inability to interview an ACPO member in the County force. Due to illness, I had to cancel two appointments with the DCC and he was 71 unable to find me further time in his diary. I am satisfied that County’s director of intelligence (DOI) and principal analyst accurately described the implementation of the NIM at force level but the ACPO member’s perspective would have added depth and texture to the analysis of those events. A further disappointment was my failure to access the ACPO archive. I was granted access by a member of the ACPO Council and hoped to use the recorded minutes of the council meetings to inform my research into the discussions about the adoption of the NIM. Neither I nor that ACPO council member was aware that the archive had been transferred to the Open University at Walton Hall, Milton Keynes for cataloguing and it took several weeks to elicit that fact. Over the course of several months I attempted to gain sight of the archived documents. My initial attempts were rebuffed by the OU on the basis that I would be allowed access only when the data was catalogued. However, at the end of that process I was informed that the OU did not have the minutes for the relevant period. A further inquiry with ACPO was met with the response that all available records had been passed to the OU. Generally, respondents gave freely of their time. Commanders both in Urban and County allowed me to observe a variety of NIM meetings. I took no part but was usually provided with copies of the strategic and tactical assessments prepared by the intelligence units. I encountered some difficulties in collecting data. In County, one strategic meeting I expected to attend was rescheduled by the BCU without notification. In Urban, a NIM strategic meeting I expected to attend was held instead as part of a routine performance meeting. I am satisfied that in neither case did this indicate any dissatisfaction with my conduct or the research but it does perhaps say something about the lack of rigour in some of the NIM processes in the case study forces. After initially agreeing to be interviewed, I met Phillips in circumstances other than we had arranged and in a situation that prevented me conducting a formal interview. I was able to complete a field note of our conversation. He agreed to a further meeting but then cancelled it due to other commitments. Instead, he made available to me two draft papers 72 that he had written on intelligence and the NIM. He also sent me a number of personal communications. With his consent, I have drawn on those papers and communications but I regret that I could not probe his ideas and beliefs. I interviewed a range of intelligence unit staff. Frustratingly, neither the Urban nor County BCU intelligence unit heads made themselves available for interview. The intelligence unit head is an extremely important figure within the NIM as they link the BCU commander and the intelligence team, translating the commander’s requests for information into action and ensuring that credible evidence-based intelligence products are delivered in a timely fashion. In interview, other respondents volunteered their concerns about their own inspectors’ level of knowledge of the NIM and suggested this as the reason for their reluctance. At the end of the fieldwork, the Urban inspector (respondent N038) provided written replies to a limited number of written questions. These provided a useful insight into his attitude to the NIM but I would have welcomed the opportunity to probe his answers and to explore his seeming reluctance to participate in the study. No response at all was forthcoming from the County inspector. Despite official approval, I experienced difficulties in County in arranging focus groups with frontline officers and staff. It took seven months to arrange two group sessions. Eventually, the BCU‘s duties office arranged for 10 officers to take part in each of two sessions. However, only three officers attended the first session and just one officer attended the second session (which instead became a semi-structured interview). My attempts to rearrange the sessions to secure a wider range of views, proved fruitless. Therefore, the contribution from County frontline staff to the case study was extremely limited. It was noticeable that few focus group members in Urban could discuss the NIM or ILP in a meaningful way which in itself was useful as it confirmed my own experiences of the indifference of frontline staff to intelligence work. Responses of three Urban group members (of the 17 officers and staff who attended the Urban sessions) and each of the four County members informed this thesis. 73 Summary I used archival and secondary research material and primary research to describe and explain the genesis and development of the NIM in order to trace how it emerged and how it was expected to be implemented. I examined that process through the lens of Kingdon’s ‘Agenda Setting’ approach in which the role of the ‘policy entrepreneur’ is key (Kingdon, 1995). I then went on to use secondary research material and case studies to provide a descriptive evaluation of NIM implementation (that is to explain what happened rather than what should have happened) in the police service of England and Wales through the lens of Sabatier’s (1986) policy implementation model. Analysis runs as a thread throughout the whole thesis therefore, there is not a separate data analysis section. However, the key topics and themes uncovered and analysed throughout the thesis are summarised and critiqued in the final chapter. Data were collected through archival research, through workplace observations, focus groups and interviews with a purposive sample of research respondents. Whilst the data analysis was carried out in an objective and open-minded manner it also was informed by previous research into the NIM and, inevitably, was shaped by my own knowledge and experience of investigation, intelligence and the police organisation. 74 Chapter 3 - Contextualising the NIM: A Brief History of Investigation Introduction My aim in this chapter is to explain the genesis of the NIM as policing policy in the wider context of investigative practice and intelligence work in mainstream policing. I argue that the orthodoxy that constrains contemporary operational policing strategies (in the ways that I alluded to in my introduction), have their roots in the history of the new police and, particularly, in the origins and early development of the detective force. Relying on data collected through archival and documentary research (supplemented by primary research material), this chapter examines the development of the detective force and the evolution of investigative practice . The Police Mission The organised, centrally controlled, police force created in 1829 by Peel was anathema to many sections of society. The force “offended against a tradition which held that social control should be a private, local and voluntary matter” (Ignatieff, 1975: 25). To those so offended, the police represented “continental despotism” in the form of “standing armies, police spies, lettres de cachet and Bastilles” (Ignatieff, 1975: 26). Peel and the first Commissioners, Rowan and Mayne, wanted to avoid the suggestion that police officers were government spies (Rawlings, 2002).9 Employing officers out of uniform “smacked of spying and of the political intrusiveness ascribed to police institutions on continental Europe” (Emsley and Shpayer-Makov, 2006: 7). Therefore, from the outset, the Commissioners prioritised the prevention of crime and the importance of crime detection was downplayed to secure public consent for the new policing arrangements. 9 Rowan and Mayne jointly fulfilled the role of Commissioner from 1829 to 1850. After Rowan’s retirement in 1850 aged 77, his position was filled until 1855 by Captain Hay. After Hay’s death in 1855, Mayne continued alone as Commissioner until his death in 1868. 75 Moss and Skinner (2006) noted that senior commanders took a positive decision to employ only those who could instantly be identified by their uniform as police officers. Officers were instructed to ensure the “security of persons and property [and] the preservation of public tranquillity” because it was in that way that the force’s objectives would be “better effected than by the detection and punishment of the offender after he has succeeded in committing the crime” (Metropolitan Police Instruction Book (IB), 1829 cited in Moss and Skinner, 2006: 12). In fact, the first IB contained no guidance on the investigation of crime and made few references to crime detection (Moss and Skinner, 2006). Roach (2004: 75-76) highlighted that the Commissioners’ evidence to the 1833 and 1834 Parliamentary Select Committees suggested they had neither the capacity nor the desire “to take on the crime investigative and detective activities of the magistrates and the officers they employed”. Mayne was also keen to allay public fears in this regard (Miller, 1999 cited in Reiner, 2000). Whilst on the same subject, Peel declared “God forbid that [I] should countenance a system of espionage” (Smith, 1985 cited in Rawlings, 2002: 168). However, as so often is the case, rhetoric and reality must be separated. The Times (11th November 1830 cited in Rawlings, 2002) reported that uniform officers were employed in plain clothes for specific operations from the earliest days of the police. Just four years after the introduction of the police, the Commissioners admitted that in the investigation of robbery “We have found it better done by persons in plain clothes, who were not thus known to the thieves, both in preventing them and in catching them when they have been going in" (Parliamentary Papers, 1833: vol. XII, pages 407 Select Committee cited in Roach, 2004: 61). Roach (2004: 64) argued that the Commissioners’ evidence suggested that the employment of officers in plain clothes was exceptional and was limited to detecting offenders when they were “going in” (actually committing offences) when they might evade arrest. Nevertheless, it is clear that despite their public protestations, the Commissioners always considered plain clothes work to be an important element in crime prevention. 76 One interpretation of the Commissioners’ evidence was that they considered the distinction between crime prevention and detection to be largely a matter of interpretation. In what Roach (2004: 88) called a “unique and important passage” in their testimony, they asserted that the distinction between the prevention and detection of crime, commonly made, was false. They regarded the patrol activities of their constables as serving the dual purpose of prevention, and detection. However, they qualified that statement by stressing that this dual role extended only to 12 categories of crime, of 26 they previously had listed, within the responsibilities of a street police (Roach, 2004: 92). Recent analyses suggest that in the earliest days of the police, the responsibility for performing what today would be understood as detective duties fell to the magistrates and their agents such as the Bow Street Runners, just as it had done before the creation of the police (see for example, Roach, 2004). Though the Runners’ successes in recovering stolen property and making deals on behalf of victims rather than focusing on arresting offenders, represented “an unwelcome commodification of policing” (McMullan, 1996: 104). Clutterbuck (2002: 125) has argued that in reality, in the earliest days of the police, the Home Secretary headed a system that performed three discrete functions; “preventative patrol and the control of public order via the Metropolitan Police, and the detection of offenders via the Bow Street Runners”. Plain Clothes Policing Plain clothes deployments were exceptional but they were common enough for one commentator to conclude that the establishment in 1842 of a discrete detective force represented “the bureaucratisation and professionalisation of the function rather than its invention (Morris, 2007: 17). However, the deployments were so politically sensitive as to delay the establishment of a separate detective force for many years (Reiner, 2000). Morris (2007: 17) argued that the creation of the first detective department was an “event- precipitated change” driven by public disquiet over the force’s perceived lack of investigative professionalism in the Francois Courvoisier and Daniel Good cases (see 77 Morris, 2007 for details of those cases). Those events and “unfavourable newspaper comment” on the investigative effort precipitated a change in Home Office policy which (at least publicly) up to 1842, had limited the police to a primarily preventive role (Morris, 2007: 17). Roach (2004) suggested that these events were emblematic of a crisis in confidence in the wider criminal justice in that period, which provided the stimulus for the statutory reform of investigative practice. The Metropolitan Police Courts Act 1839 had limited the powers of magistrates and their agents (such as ‘The Runners’) and ended their ability to undertake the specialist detective duties that the Courvoisier and Good cases demanded. Roach (2004: 145) argued that the effect of that Act, and the Metropolitan Police Act the same year, was to remove both the magistrates' plain-clothes officers and their informers from any active role in the criminal justice system of the capital but the investigations of those cases demonstrated that this had created a vacuum that had to be filled. The Home Office naturally turned to the Police Commissioners who had no alternative than to expand its detective capacity to fill that investigative void. Opposition to the establishment of a detective division meant that negotiations between the Commissioners and Home Office officials about its formation took place in secret. Certainly, there were no significant public discussions on the subject between the two groups (Morris, 2007 and Emsley and Shpayer-Makov, 2006). Addressing criticism of this development from other researchers as “paltry and inadequate” (given that the practical difference that this decision made was negligible), Morris has suggested that the significance of this decision was that for the first time, detective work received overt political endorsement (Morris, 2007: 18). The new detectives eagerly constructed an image of themselves as successful crime- fighters. They were assisted greatly by the emerging mass media. For example, Charles Dickens and his contemporary Wilkie Collins (the author of the first detective story published in the UK in 1868, The Moonstone) based their fictional detectives on real policemen. Their stories contributed to the image of the detective force as “possessing the 78 monopoly on expertise” in investigation (Maguire, 2003: 365), and to detective work as “heroic, distinctive and even glamorous” (Emsley and Shpayer-Makov, 2006: 131).10 Reiner (2000: 57) argued from a ‘class conflict’ perspective that the expansion of the detective force in this period was not justified by events but instead was the product of a moral panic, which blamed the police for failing to counter a crime wave. This undermined the police’s carefully constructed appearance of effectiveness in terms of “its core mandate of crime control and order maintenance” (a construction which perhaps is under just as much attack today). Conservative party demands for the police to be “armed with preventative powers similar to those exercised by the Continental police” were exactly what the working class feared and it was for this reason that the force was expanded by stealth. By 1867, the force numbered just 15 officers (Shpayer-Makov, 2004: 253). However in 1869, it was substantially enlarged to approximately 200 detectives. For the first time, detectives were posted to the 21 police divisions that then made up the Metropolitan force (Shpayer-Makov, 2004: 253). Scotland Yard central office detectives dealt with murder and other serious crime whilst the new divisional detectives were tasked with investigating local crimes and criminals (Shpayer-Makov, 2004, 2004: 253). Thus, the distinction between ‘generalist’ and ‘specialist’ detectives that I will argue has had such an impact in the modern era was established from the earliest days of the detective force. Later, an attempt was made to bridge that divide by bringing Scotland Yard and divisional detectives together in one unit. In 1870, Williamson a Superintendent of Detectives (and later Chief Constable of the CID), proposed a reorganisation of the detective force. All detectives were to be brought together in a new “Detective Division” under the supervision of a single Detective Superintendent. They would be responsible for the investigation of “all cases of felony undetected at the time of commission” (MEPO 2/134a, report dated 6th July, 1870). Their work would be overseen by a team of detective inspectors supervised directly by Scotland Yard. Inspectors would report the progress of 10 The work of the early detectives continues to fascinate. In 2008, Kate Summerskill’s novel, The Suspicions Of Mr Whicher: Or The Murder At Road Hill House, an analysis of a murder in Wiltshire in 1860 that previously had inspired many writers including Dickens, topped the best-sellers list and won Summerskill BBC Four's ‘Samuel Johnson Prize’ for non-fiction writing. 79 investigations to both the district superintendents and divisional superintendents. However, the plan was rejected and the distinction between the central and local branches of the detective department was reinforced (Roach, 2004). Divisional detectives responded to crime complaints and routinely carried out plain clothes patrols and surveillance but they received no specialist training for that work (MEPO 2/134b: report dated 6th November 1877). The structure, composition and working practices of the detective force exercised both senior police officers and the Home Office. In 1878, in his evidence to a Home Office Departmental Commission,11 Henderson (Mayne’s successor as Commissioner 1869-1886) warned of the corrupting effect of allowing professional police officers to continue in detective work for too long (detectives’ corruption in this era is further discussed in Appendix D). However, the Commission ignored him and created “a career structure that guaranteed a detective a whole police career in plain clothes and solely under the command of other detectives” (cited in Roach, 2004: 143). This was a system that was to endure largely unchanged for almost 100 years. The Commission was persuaded of the need for new leadership of the detective force and “strongly recommend[ed] that an Assistant Commissioner, who should be a lawyer having magisterial experience (explicitly an outsider) should be placed at the head of the detective branch, ranking next to the Chief Commissioner and having charge of the whole force in his absence” (Ibbetson, 1878). Charles Vincent and the CID In 1878, on the Commission’s recommendation, a “substantial and autonomous” detective department was established in London (Matassa and Newburn 2007: 43). Charles Howard Vincent, a barrister, former soldier and newspaper correspondent, was appointed its first head. Wade (2007) noted that prior to his appointment; Vincent had established a reputation as an innovative and determined administrator. He was an “indefatigable” writer and publisher and a gifted linguist (Lucas revised by Emsley, 2006). Although considered a 11 On the ‘State, Discipline and Organisation of the Detective Force of the Metropolitan Police’ (otherwise known as the Ibbetson Commission). 80 “complete tyro (novice)” (Emsley and Shpayer-Makov, 2006: 23) and, a “briefless barrister with… little or no knowledge or experience in police matters” (Reynolds' Newspaper, 1880, 15th August). Vincent’s nomination for the post of Director of Criminal Investigation was the product of careful calculation and assiduous planning but may also have owed something to history and timing. His biographer recorded that “it was not purely with the object of assisting the committee in their labour that Vincent put himself to all this trouble. He had anticipated that an important new post would be created and he was determined to get it” (Jeyes, 1912: 57). In 1877, the year that detectives’ corruption came to public attention as a result of the Turf Fraud’ trials (see Appendix D), Vincent enrolled in the Paris Faculty of Law to carry out his own investigation of the French detective police. He presented a thorough critique of that system (redrafted 18 times with the help of his brother) to the Home Office Commission (Jeyes, 1912). This, and a reference from the Attorney-General, recommended him to Home Secretary Cross (Lucas revised by Emsley, 2006). Vincent benefited from the abandonment of the principle that police recruits should be drawn only from the working class communities they served. Wall (1998: 21) has argued that rather than representing ‘policing of the people by the people’ as Peel publicly had claimed, this was an attempt to “ensure that the relationship between the police and the public remained close and that control over… the ‘dangerous classes’ was maximised while the potential for disorder was minimised” in a cost-effective way. Peel’s determination to avoid a caste system in the police meant that for many years even though the armed forces were rich sources of recruits, ex-warrant officers and non-commissioned officers were favoured over ‘gentlemen’ officers. As the force developed, it was clear both to the police elite and the Home Office that better-educated recruits were required and recruitment was therefore opened up to commissioned officers (Wall, 1998). Vincent was one of the first to benefit from that change. The CID was established on 8th April 1878 and Vincent was appointed its first director (Lucas revised by Emsley, 2006). It was Henderson who announced Vincent’s 81 engagement but strangely he played no part in his selection or appointment. Those responsibilities instead falling to Home Secretary Cross who had commissioned the Ibbetson inquiry (Roach, 2004: 164). Fido and Skinner (1999) have argued that Vincent reported directly to the Home Secretary over the head of the Commissioner and, if so, this lends weight to the argument that at, least in the Home Office, there was an appetite for change that only ‘outsiders’ could be trusted to deliver. 12 This even extended to the naming of the new post, with Vincent being afforded a title intended to remove any “uncanny associations” with the word detective that had so recently been discredited during the Turf Fraud affair (Jeyes, 1912: 60). The new CID attracted comment and amusement. Mr. Bridge, the Hammersmith Police Magistrate “chafed unmercifully” a detective who appeared before him as a “crime investigator” rather than as a detective (The Era, 1878, April 14th). Another, who styled himself a ‘criminal investigator’ was told by a second Magistrate to “Call yourself a constable, I suppose you are one” (The Graphic, 1880, September 4th). However, there certainly was enough work for the new department. For example in 1879, its detectives made 4,862 arrests, 65 percent of which resulted in convictions. In that year, officers conducted 2,066 inquiries that did not require any arrest and travelled throughout the United Kingdom and to Australia, Barbados, Belgium, Canada, France, Germany, Holland, Italy and Spain in pursuing their investigations (Vincent cited in The Graphic, 1880, 4th September). Vincent remained in post until 1884. Despite having no disciplinary power over his staff and being “short-handed” due to the “disappearance in disgrace” of many senior members of the detective force (Jeyes, 1912: 62), Vincent reformed and reorganized the detective department (a task made especially challenging by the ‘Fenian’ outrages in London in the early 1880s). He introduced a shift system of working and supervision through the ranks; appointing 60 divisional detectives and 20 special patrols and 12 Fido and Skinner (1999) suggest that this anomaly was only corrected when Vincent left his post to be replaced by James Monro who was given the title of Assistant Commissioner which was not afforded to Vincent (Monro went on to be the Commissioner of Police 1888-1890). 82 formalising the distinction between Scotland Yard detectives and their divisional colleagues. Vincent also established the tradition that CID officers remained in that department throughout their police careers. That situation remained unchanged until the appointment of Robert Mark as Commissioner almost 100 years later. During his directorship, Vincent maintained the links with the Parisian police that he had established prior to his appointment. For example, in March 1881 en route to London from a visit to the south of France, he visited several branches of the Paris Prefecture of Police (The Penny Illustrated Paper and Illustrated Times, 1881, 19th March). Vincent published widely on legal and police matters. Notably in the context of his role as ‘chief of detectives’, he published in 1882 A Police Code and Manual of Criminal Law which was used as a “basic textbook” for police forces both in Britain and throughout the British Empire for many years after his death in 1908 (Lucas revised by Emsley, 2006). In the modern era, the investigative environment has come to be dominated by ‘doctrine’ (see for example, NCPE, 2005; 2006; 2007); Vincent’s Code clearly was the nineteenth century equivalent. Mr Justice Hawkins wrote the foreword to its fifth edition. His words provide a fascinating insight into the culture of police work in that era, elements of which I argue can still be observed in the modern force. He exhorted constables to: Obey every order given to you by your superior officer without for a moment considering the propriety of it. You are not responsible for the order, but for obedience. In yielding obedience let the humblest member of the force feel that by good conduct and cheerful submission he may himself rise to be placed in authority to give the orders that he is now called upon to obey (cited in Vincent, 1886: 5). Vincent’s advice to detectives was rather more practical. He noted that "the detection of criminals… can only be attained by cordial cooperation, the absence of craving for individual credit, free interchange of information, great activity, and the constant adoption of fresh and unexpected measures" (1886: 53). The ability of detectives to unravel crime; depended upon “the energy, the ability, the judgement, the zeal, and the integrity of the detective force” (1886: 109). I argue that all these qualities are still evident in the modern detective force, particularly the specialist detective force. Vincent noted that 83 detective work was “more varied and interesting than the ordinary street duty”. However, prospective detectives needed to demonstrate “voluntary inclination” for the work and to have “given proof of skill” while on beat duty (Vincent, 1886: 109). From 1883 to 1884, Vincent edited the Police Gazette; the first intelligence circular to transmit descriptions of wanted offenders, details of stolen property and other useful information (Lucas revised by Emsley, 2006). It has gone through many reviews and revisions but is still in use today. Vincent was an innovator and unlike his predecessors was influenced by continental methods. He favoured using police informers and undercover operatives as agents provocateurs (Wade, 2007), though he was rightly wary of encouraging improper relationships between detectives and those from whom they sought information. Vincent was “always unconventional in his methods” (Wade, 2007: 32). On one occasion he used the advertisement section of a daily newspaper to offer a £200 reward for the arrest of a ‘dynamiter’ (Jeyes, 1912: 75). Against the convention of the time, he would proactively launch an investigation without waiting for a criminal complaint (Morris, 2007: 22). It has been argued that in the six years he held the post, Vincent’s influence on detective work in London was immense (Lucas, revised by Emsley, 2006). Vincent’s influence on the development of investigative practice cannot be overstated. Reflecting on his short but immensely significant career as director of detectives, Stead, (1888: 1) noted that Vincent had “succeeded in establishing cosmos out of chaos”. Vincent’s biographer Jeyes wrote that at first, as an amateur, he made many enemies at Scotland Yard. However, Jeyes claimed that Vincent’s willingness to give credit where it was due, to deal frankly and honestly with his staff and his good humour and “social popularity” earned him a measure of respect from his subordinates in the CID (Jeyes, 1912: 104). In 1883, he established the Special Irish Branch, which later (as Special Branch) became the first of the specialised squads and units ‘spun off’ from the CID. Wade noted that the establishment of this unit was a “development of the tendency to assemble men of special expertise to tackle specific threats or new crimes” (2007: 87). The reader will see 84 later that this established a template for detective work that has continued into the modern era. In this case, the event was the failure of the police to prevent an attack on Clerkenwell Prison by a group of Irish nationalists, despite having received accurate intelligence from the Irish Police warning of the attack (Emsley and Shpayer-Makov, 2006: 83). The new unit brought “added kudos and consolidated [the] CID’s monopoly over investigative techniques” (Matassa and Newburn, 2007: 44). It also signalled a significant split between the ‘ordinary’ detective and those tasked with responding to events on the world stage (Wade, 2007). The work of the unit meant that some detectives “found themselves acting in quasi-espionage situations and as time went on, in real espionage” (Wade, 2007: 88). Clutterbuck (2002: 351) argued that the establishment of the squad represented a “quantum leap” in the operational methodology of the detective force as for the first time it signalled a new, longer-term approach to intelligence work. Table 1 is adapted from Clutterbuck’s fascinating account of the emergence of the Special Branch at the end of the nineteenth century. It suggests that the tools and techniques now associated with ‘high policing’ (Brodeur, 1983), have their roots in the nineteenth century. However, in that period they were used exclusively to counter ‘political’ crime. Clutterbuck (2002: 244) has argued that there was “scarcely no aspect” of the covert investigative work he described, that has not continued to play a part in police counter-terrorism operations in the modern era. The methods described by Clutterbuck in Table 1, were adopted by the new specialist squads which, the reader will see later, were introduced throughout the twentieth century and which have become such an influence in policing in the modern era. The reader will see that these methods ensured that the specialist squads had the best information available to any section of the service. They will also see that squads exploited that knowledge in ways which reinforced their power and influence. 85 Police Methodologies Against ‘Political’ Crime and the Earliest Identified Year of Use Method Year Use of covert officers to gather intelligence 1833 Covert monitoring of public meetings 1833 Covert monitoring of target organisations 1833 Surveillance of target individuals 1866 Operational use of information from active informants 1867 Use of detectives to gather intelligence from other UK Forces 1867 (by working in other force areas or by request for assistance) Use of detectives to gather intelligence from other countries (by 1867 working abroad or request for assistance) Co-operation with a UK ‘Secret Service’ 1867 Use of detectives to gather intelligence systematically at ports 1872 Intelligence gathering from convicts and their visitors/contacts 1888 Specific tasking of informants 1888 Lifestyle’ payments to informants 1888 Gathering overt information from the media 1880 Interception of communications (postal and telegraphic) 1880 Systemised collection/collation/recording of intelligence 1880 Table 1 – Methodologies against ‘political’ crime (from Clutterbuck, 2002) Cultural Division Attempts were made to ameliorate cultural differences between the CID and uniformed branches. For example, Vincent cautioned that detective officers should be “watchful” about taking cases away from uniform constables and be: Especially guarded against the arrogation of individual credit, and if they have any information which may secure the arrest of a criminal, they should communicate it to the officer who is placed in a position to work it out, instead of reserving it for themselves. Readers will see in later chapters (that discuss the relationship between detectives and some of their uniformed colleagues) that Vincent identified the corrosive effect of that cultural divide. History does not record the immediate effect of his words but this research suggests that their impact was limited. Certainly, in the modern era, that divide still exists in many parts of the service. 86 Fido and Skinner (1999: 42) argued that despite Vincent’s charm offensive, designed to “overcome grumblings from uniformed officers”, he left intact an environment in which CID officers “held an undesirable belief… that they were inherently superior to the uniformed branch”. Vincent acknowledged that the establishment of the CID erected a barrier between police in uniform and police in plain clothes that operated “with much detriment to the public service” (MEPO 2/134d: memo dated 26 th October 1880). Given the detectives’ opinion of themselves, it is perhaps surprising that Vincent believed that it was their inadequacies that were at the heart of that problem. He blamed the force’s superintendents for selecting CID men who were “far removed from the best quality” and by leaving those men to their own devices to investigate cases so that “there was neither control nor cooperation, neither intelligence nor thoroughness as a general rule” in their investigations. In a memorandum that gives a fascinating insight into Vincent’s opinion of detectives’ abilities in the earliest days of the CID, he continued that detectives’ dealings with other constabularies often indicated incompetence in even the simplest of tasks (MEPO 2/134d: memo dated 26th October 1880). Unfortunately, there is no record of a response to Vincent’s proposal that CID superintendents should all be trained “in the same school of the Criminal Law” to improve a department that “never had any stability” and which was “defective in the time of Sir Richard Mayne” and “defective during the period of the divisional detectives” or alternatively that they be replaced by existing chief inspectors or by local inspectors eligible for promotion who were of “suitable calibre” (MEPO 2/134d: memo dated 26th October 1880). However, it may be assumed that it was not until 1935 that the situation was remedied by the establishment of a detective training school in Hendon, North London. Detectives did not have things all their own way. In the wake of the infamous ‘Jack the Ripper’ murders in London’s East End there was a backlash against the CID. For example, the Pall Mall Gazette ran a series of articles that were critical of Warren (who held the post of Commissioner from 1886 to 1888) and the conduct of the investigation. Warren 87 stood accused of favouring uniformed men over the detectives with the result that the gap between the two sections of the force was widened further to the detriment of the investigative effort: [Warren] could not be got to see that the detectives were in any way more efficient than his ordinary constables. If he wanted any work done that could not be done by Z 324, with his helmet on his head and his blue coat on his back, he would simply put Z 324 in ordinary clothes and expect him to do the work of a detective (Stead, 1888: 1). Stead argued that as a result, “detectives were discouraged, discredited, and sat upon, and the dormant feeling of jealousy and animosity between the two branches began to grow apace, to the no small disadvantage of the service” (1888:1). However, Fido and Skinner (1999) countered that criticism of Warren’s treatment of the CID, was but one stick with which to beat an individual who had proven to be a most unpopular Commissioner. Before moving on to examine the rise of that specialist detective force, it is useful to examine the work of the Dixon Committee. There have been many inquiries into criminal investigation and the detective force but this inquiry was particularly significant because it established the pattern of detective work for most of the twentieth century despite the huge expansion of the police service and the detective force in that period. A fuller account of the Committee’s work can be found at Appendix E. In the context of this thesis, its most significant deliberations were on the subjects of intelligence work and the fractious relationship between the CID and the uniform branch. Home Office Committee on Detective Work, 1933-1936 The committee was established on 12 th May 1933 under A.L. Dixon, a Home Office official, to “inquire and report upon the organisation and procedure of the police forces of England and Wales for the purpose of the detection of crime” (MEPO 2/4967, Section 1). It was made up of Home Office officials and chief constables. The committee recorded that in 1933 the aggregate number of police officers in England and Wales, across a total of 181 88 forces, was 60,000. The detective force amounted to 2,600 officers. Predictably, the Metropolitan Police was the largest police force with 20,000 officers which included 1,000 detectives. The smallest force was maintained by the Borough of Tiverton with an establishment of 11 officers (at the time of the report the force was under-strength) (MEPO 2/4967, Section 1). Some forces had only “one or two men” set aside for detective work whilst others had none at all (MEPO 2/4967, Section 1). Intelligence Work It is indicative of the challenges faced by those seeking to develop police intelligence work over the last century, that so many of the committee’s deliberations in this context still have such currency today. Its minutes highlight huge concern over the collection and sharing of intelligence (by and between the different branches of the service), variations in record- keeping practices (MEPO 2/4967 sub-committee B, Section 1 - minutes of 28 th June 1933), the unsystematic use of records maintained at central collection points (that is, force headquarters), the inefficient use of those records by investigating officers and the infrequent use of them by uniform officers (MEPO 2/4967, Section 1 - minutes of 28 th June 1933). The committee also found that the uniform branch was disadvantaged by the manner in which crime information was passed to its officers. In its view, efficient detection depended upon the capacity of the police “to obtain, sift and draw deductions from information”. Therefore, unless these problems were solved (or at least ameliorated) there was little prospect of improving investigative practice (MEPO 2/4967, draft final report - 24). Given the importance attached to ‘hotspotting’ and intelligence analysis in the modern era (which is a key element of the NIM), the committee’s decision to reject an embryonic geographic information system (GIS) is interesting. It was “disposed to think that no very useful purpose would be served by the preparation of elaborate maps or statistics” but it was agreed that developments within forces (particularly the Metropolitan Police) would be monitored (MEPO 2/4967, Section 1 - of 28 th June 1933). The 89 committee’s deliberations indicate that senior commanders recognised the need for some rudimentary analysis of the intelligence that the service was collecting so that it could identify crime trends etc for patrol officers. However, the committee made no recommendation as to how this should be carried out. Stimulating a debate over cross-border crime that has continued to the present day, the committee argued that less importance should be given to force boundaries “in the ordinary day-to-day work of crime detection” (MEPO 2/4967 page 28, line 36 – page 29, line 22). Arrangements needed to be made that would overcome the inherent disadvantages of the existing system so that police action could be “applied to a common purpose over a wide area” whenever necessary (MEPO 2/4967, draft final report page 5, lines 18-35). According to the committee’s minutes (MEPO 2/4967, Section 1 - sub-committee B report), those arrangements should include locally-held records for local criminals who did not “habitually travel from place to place” and committed the bulk of crime (the forerunner of collators’ records, see section 8 this chapter) and regional or national records for those who extended their operations over much wider areas and were often responsible for the more serious crimes (arguably, not addressed until the establishment of the Metropolitan Police’s C9 branch in the 1950s). The committee highlighted that local police should know the criminals in their area but there also should be some mechanism by which detectives in adjoining forces should have access to, and should make effective use of, intelligence records (MEPO 2/4967, main body of report page 32, lines 29-33). Its observation that an effective intelligence system was a fundamental requirement of efficient investigative practice (MEPO 2/4967, draft final report page 6), may be a statement of the obvious, but I argue that in mainstream policing the service did not make any appreciable progress in this context until the introduction of UBP some 40 years later and even then (as the reader will see in the following sections) that progress was extremely limited. The committee’s deliberations on intelligence work are important in the context of this thesis because they go to the heart of Phillips’ ambitions for the NIM. For Phillips, fully implementing his plans would allow commanders to resolve the kinds of problems 90 described here that beset the police service for much of its history. However, the Committee’s work also shows that though Phillips’ proposals were presented as a ‘modern’ solution to the challenges of policing in the twenty-first century, those problems and at least some of their solutions had been apparent to the police for at least 60 years. CID and Mainstream Policing The committee established a definition of a ‘detective’ as a police officer “who forms part of the detective organisation of a force which is engaged in specialised crime work and not routine police duties other than crime”. A caveat later was added that ‘specialised crime work’ extended to “inquiries and intelligence work” (MEPO 2/4967, Section 1 - minutes of 28th June 1933). The precise nature of that ‘inquiry and intelligence work’ was not further defined. However, what is clear is that the ‘official’ definition of a detective then extended beyond commonly accepted descriptions of the role at that time (and certainly beyond the ‘detectives’ and the ‘thief-catchers’ described by Basil Thomson). The effect of the redefinition was that the prestigious label ‘detective’ was attached to a wider range of officers than hitherto. The Committee acknowledged that cooperation between the uniform and detective branches continued to be a significant issue and “positive steps” were required to improve it. There was unanimity that CID protectionism was “undesirable” and inefficient; the fractious and difficult relationship between the branches hindered the investigative effort (MEPO 2/4967). At the heart of this problem was the CID’s belief that it should have monopoly control of criminal investigation and the committee decried the department’s contention that the detection of crime was an entirely specialised form of work to be carried out solely by detectives (MEPO 2/4967, draft final report: 36-37). The minority argument that “uniform officers should not be encouraged to concern themselves” with crime investigation because “they may, by precipitate or ill-informed action, prejudice rather than assist the work of the detectives” was rejected (MEPO 2/4967, draft final report: 39). 91 However, that argument illustrates that at least some of senior commanders were sympathetic to the CID’s view. A particularly significant event in the wider context of this thesis was an observation by Wilson, the chief constable of Cardiff, that the scope of detective work should be increased by “working from the criminal to the crime rather than from the crime to the criminal”. Wilson suggested that in the event of an “epidemic of crime” of the same type, the police should keep a careful watch on likely suspects”. He cautioned however, that this type of work “called for a considerable expenditure of manpower” and that detective strengths should take this into account (MEPO 2/4967, meeting minutes, Section 217). This is evidence that ILP, the targeting of suspect individuals or populations, was considered by the police many years before it was endorsed by the Audit Commission in 1993 (see Chapter 4, section 3.3). That too suggests that there is little that is truly ‘new’ in policing. Specialist Detective Squads The increasing specialisation of the detective force in the twentieth century is noteworthy in the context of the NIM, because it confirmed the class system in policing that I later will argue, has had a detrimental effect on criminal investigation in mainstream policing and which undermined Phillips’ notion of a ‘whole service’ approach to crime control. Rawlings (2002: 21) argued that increasing the number and remit of specialist squads was simply considered “a key strategy for dealing with rising crime” in the modern era. The reader will see later that intelligence gathered by each of the squads become very much the property of that squad. It was guarded jealously and only very reluctantly shared with others. Of course, that similarly could undermine Phillips’ vision for policing. The Flying Squad Given the social and political history of the Metropolitan Police, it is unsurprising that its detective force has always had a huge influence on investigative policy and most of the 92 early specialist squads emerged in London. For 36 years, Special Branch stood as the lone example of a police force tailoring a bespoke solution to an emerging crime problem. However, in 1919, the Met established the Flying Squad (popularly known as the ‘Sweeney’ but more commonly known to detectives simply as ‘The Squad’) in response to “the development of methods of rapid transit - particularly the motor car – [that] was bringing about a state of things in which the detective was placed at a great disadvantage” (Wensley, 1968: 195). Wensley (Chief Constable of the Metropolitan Police CID, 1924- 1929) considered that the CID needed to adopt a more “fluid” response to these developments in the form of a “roving body of detectives under officers of special capacity, who could move rapidly and operate in any division where there was an epidemic of crime” (Wensley, 1968: 195). It has been suggested that the really significant advantages that the Flying Squad held over the divisional detective force were its mobility and flexibility. The squad was provided with a number of ‘fast cars’, vans and tenders to carry out its duties. In 1931, the squad was equipped with 16 cars and three vans giving it a capability that would have been the envy of its divisional colleagues (MEPO 2/1880, report dated 10th December, 1931). However, Wensley observed that the success of the squad had been “misrepresented”. Rather than relying on “fast cars, wireless, police boxes or any other mechanical device” the real value of the squad lay in the calibre of its detectives and the quality of the information that they were able to obtain (1968: 198). He noted that although the value of the squad lay in its mobility “the Flying Squad catches thieves because it knows thieves” (Wensley 1968: 198). In other words, it succeeded because it had the best ‘thief-catchers’ in the force. Yet, the squad did not always have things its own way. A detective complained that with “smash and grab raids, housebreaking and larcenies in the street… prevalent… the need of the cars and vans is felt by the Squad” (MEPO 2/1880, report dated 10th December, 1931). Hence the officer’s outrage that “a regular fast car had to be used both night and day for three weeks” as the spare squad car had been taken by Special Branch without the 93 squad’s permission to ferry “somebody called Gandhi” around (MEPO 2/1880, report dated 10th December, 1931). The squad continues to operate today as ‘SCD7, the Flying Squad’. The Special Duty Squad (SDS) or ‘Ghost Squad’ The squad was the brainchild of Percy Worth, Chief Constable of the CID (MEPO 3/2033) and was a response to the huge rise in crime that followed the Second World War. The SDS was a small squad of “selected CID officers” recruited from the Flying Squad for the “sole purpose of acquiring information concerning the activities of criminals” (MEPO 3/2033, report dated 18th May 1945). Worth recruited the SDS from the Flying Squad because his experience had taught him that “the more valuable information about persistent and dangerous criminals invariably emanated from squad officers” and placed them under the command of Assistant Commissioner Ronald Howe (MEPO 3/2033, report dated 18 th May 1945). Worth considered that those officers possessed a greater ability to “contact and control informants” than their divisional colleagues and that their informants were “well controlled” and “more productive”. To Worth, these men represented the ‘best of the best’. In other words, they were the thief-catchers above all other thief-catchers. Worth accepted uncritically that detectives concealed the identity of their informers and that they rewarded them without the knowledge of their senior officers; this was a matter of trust. In Worth’s view, the key issue was to obtain information and act upon it quickly. Money was available to be spent on informers and spent it should be (MEPO 3/2033, report dated 18th May 1945). Gosling, a founding member of the SDS, records that Howe’s assessment of the situation was that things were “getting out of hand” in the sense that there was both too much crime and too few arrests. Clearly, desperate times called for desperate measures and thus the SDS (or Ghost Squad as it became known) was born. Its express purpose was to acquire information “concerning the activities of persistently clever and dangerous criminals” (Worth cited in Gosling, 1959: 11). Howe’s command signalled a remarkable development in detective work as the squad were given powers “previously unheard of in the CID” (Worth cited in Gosling, 94 1959: 11). Worth and Howe were operating in a very different policing environment from modern detectives. The latitude afforded to the four detectives who made up the new squad was surprising (although perhaps more understandable in the light of Basil Thomson’s earlier comments about ‘thief-catchers’). Their sole purpose was to “infiltrate into the underworld and establish and maintain contacts with anyone who can give information which will lead to the arrest of criminals” (Gosling, 1959: 14). According to Gosling (1959: 14), the squad was “virtually given carte blanche and told to produce results”. ‘Crime control’ was explicitly afforded precedence over ‘due process’, detectives were given full licence to operate as they wished. Tellingly, they were assured by Howe that “You will not be asked any questions about the source of any information you discover” (cited in Gosling, 1959: 15). Gosling’s (1959) fascinating account of his SDS career details many interactions with informers. In those post-war years, the police were faced with a new kind of criminal; “cruel, ruthless and well informed”; operating in the “thieves market” that was post-conflict London. The SDS was an attempt to “wrest the initiative from the criminals (Gosling, 1959: 20). He explained his philosophy on informers thus: If every policeman ‘worked to rule’ – and a great many of them do – I reckon that more than 90% of the crimes committed in Great Britain would remain unsolved. That’s the dilemma… We must use informers – and that means we have to play fair with them. You mustn’t give them away either to other criminals or to other policemen (Gosling, 1959: 19). In that crime control-dominated milieu, detectives could be investigator, judge and jury. Gosling recalled that there were circumstances in which he “may have to let a man go free after he has committed a crime” because then he could “put the squeeze’ on him afterwards” (1959: 19). Clearly, these methods were perceived to be effective as the squad’s tenure was extended three times. Over the three years and nine months that the squad was in operation it solved 1506 cases, made 789 arrests and recovered stolen property valued at ₤253,896. Scotland Yard paid out almost ₤25,000 in rewards to the squad’s informers in that period (Gosling, 1959), representing a considerable increase on the ₤3695 spent in the previous five years. 95 Criminal Intelligence Squad 9 (C9) Criminal intelligence as a discipline within the police service (as opposed to intelligence work linked to extremism or subversion usually associated with the activities of Special Branch) probably commenced in the early 1950s with the formation of another specialist squad, the Metropolitan Police’s ‘C9’ branch. The branch was established as a central point of contact for provincial officers investigating country house burglaries committed by London-based criminals (ACPO, 1975). A former C9 member (N062) said that the squad was not given a name but was known as the “Home and Colonial” by its members. In interview, he recalled that the unit was staffed exclusively by detective officers who were specially selected from the Metropolitan Police for their abilities as ‘thief-catchers’ and officers from the other Home Counties forces and from the West Midlands (whom he assumed had undergone a similar selection process). The former C9 member (N062) said that the unit concerned itself only with intelligence about serious and organised crime and provided only a very limited service to mainstream policing. He speculated that the collection methods routinely employed by the unit utilised the most sensitive covert policing techniques (principally relating to the use of informers and undercover police officers) and that there was a consensus amongst detectives that these methods and the information that they generated should be protected both from public view and from the uniformed branch. An ACPO member (N053) said that CID culture also was a factor in that protectionism. In his view, little had changed since the 1930s, the CID had an “uneasy” relationship with the uniform branch, and detectives also were guilty of hoarding intelligence for personal gain (officers used it to earn overtime payments or to bring themselves to the attention of senior officers and thus secure advancement in the force). Tangentially, Grieve, (2004) noted that intelligence could not be shared because there was no local intelligence structure worthy of the name to receive it, in any force in the country. 96 Essentially, C9 represented the embryonic intelligence system for the UK. Its officers took responsibility for small groups of constabularies. The former C9 detective (N062) recalled that during his tenure he was responsible for linking in with the Welsh forces. Colleagues on other desks linked with the Irish and Scottish. John Stevens (later Commissioner of Police for the Metropolis 2000-2005) looked after Cambridge and East Anglia. Others looked after the north, Cornwall etc. C9 worked closely with another unit at Scotland Yard (CB6) staffed by Home Counties officers, whose staff were responsible for checking the Yard’s criminal records for details of the criminal history of offenders arrested in their home force areas. The former C9 member (N062) said that the unit represented the single point of contact in the Met for other police forces and law enforcement agencies but it was quickly realised that there was a need for a larger unit with the capacity to collate and analyse the information that C9 received. Criminal Intelligence Squad 11 (C11) In 1960, the Criminal Intelligence Branch ‘C11’ was established. The newly designated department became the regional criminal intelligence branch for the south-east of England. It was based at New Scotland Yard with a remit to “collect, evaluate and disseminate information regarding organised crime and prominent criminals” (ACPO, 1975: 1). Kelland, Assistant Commissioner of the Met in this period, noted that “London was the natural centre for the densely populated south east region and it was important that the Met should take a lead” in the field of criminal intelligence. As a unit with a regional (rather than a ‘Met-wide’) responsibility, C11’s Met officers also were joined by officers seconded from other forces in the south-east (Kelland, 1986: 233-234). C11 was concerned with the activities of career criminals thought to pose the greatest threat to the social order in London and the South-East. In the 1970s, it became the first intelligence unit with a national responsibility. Echoing the words of Wilson, the chief constable of Cardiff in 1936, Grieve (2004: 28) has noted that the motto of the new unit was “the criminal not the crime”. To enable the branch to focus on its central aim, C11 was 97 allowed to exercise a high degree of selectivity in the choice of subjects worthy of its interest (and to ignore most of the more than three million individuals recorded in the records of the National Criminal Intelligence Office) as to do otherwise “would completely destroy the objects for which the branch was formed” (ACPO, 1975: 1). Criminals of interest to the squad were known as ‘C11 nominals’. A former collator (N060) recalled that once individuals were so labelled they remained of interest to C11 for life.13 Another former collator (N061) noted that C11 began rather modestly in 1960 on the first floor of the ‘old’ Scotland Yard on London’s Victoria Embankment in a “not very large room… full of boxes of files of various sorts and it also held a couple of rows of grey filing cabinets [and] wooden box drawers full of index cards bearing data about known and suspected villains”. He said that in addition to gathering information about serious and organised crime for the Met, the unit acted as a regional ‘clearing house’ and provided the national lead on intelligence for certain types of crimes designated by the Home Office (usually associated with national or international crime). The former C9 detective (N062) said that, just like C9, the new unit was staffed exclusively by specially selected detective officers and concerned itself only with intelligence about serious and organised crime. Just like its predecessor; it provided only a very limited service to mainstream policing. In 1963, further regional intelligence offices (RIOs) were established according to the same model in Birmingham, Cardiff, Durham, Glasgow, Liverpool and Manchester based on the C11 model (ACPO, 1975). Several respondents (including a former detective inspector, N055; a senior intelligence official, N050; and an ACPO member, N053) argued that there was no similar investment at the local level in mainstream policing. A former collator (N061) recalled that it was intended that the new system should seamlessly link in with the new local intelligence system used by collators. However, C11 officers quickly found that although some information that they wanted was held in the local records, most information of real value was held in the Criminal Records Office (then known as C4) or the Metropolitan Police Registry (which archived a wide variety of official records). C11 officers also 13 See the section on Unit Beat Policing later, for a discussion of the collator system. 98 trawled through intelligence files held by the other specialist squads to find information that they could add to C11’s records. Reflecting the ACPO member’s comments about the hoarding of information for personal or gain, a former collator (N061) recalled that “Much of the serious active information was scrounged from the Sweeney (Flying Squad) who were a bit jealous of divulging this”. In 1971, C11 adopted an experimental criminal intelligence computer system (MEPO 3/2033). However, it was beset by technical and staff difficulties. It broke down frequently and inputting work proved unpopular with staff. In 1973, having collected together all the intelligence available to it, the branch held 130 dockets on individuals “about whom so much data is held that it cannot conveniently be held on cards” (that is, those of the greatest interest to detectives), intelligence on 2,500 individuals of “major interest” and 50,000 nominal records containing particulars of individuals and companies (MEPO 3/2033). At that time, the branch was made up of 82 staff (71 police officers and 11 civilians) under the command of an officer of the rank of Commander. As an indication of the growth of the branch, by 1983, having successfully computerised its data, it held a total of 152,186 records (Hansard, 1983 col. 969-70). The criminal intelligence branch is now known by the title ‘SO11’. Staffed by a large number of detectives and intelligence specialists, it represents not just the oldest but the largest and most influential police intelligence department in Britain. The reader will see later that the branch had no meaningful involvement in the development of the NIM. Regional Crime Squads Another significant addition to the specialist detective force was the Regional Crime Squads (RCS). Section 13 of the 1964 Police Act included a voluntary collaborative agreement between constituent police forces to establish the squads which came into formal existence on 1st April 1965 (Maguire and Norris, 1992). Once again, detectives were specially selected from their constituent forces for their ‘thief-catching’ abilities. The squads’ aim was to counter what was perceived to be a growing threat from organised 99 crime, particularly in relation to offenders who crossed force boundaries. Essentially, the nine regional squads were intended to provide the operational arm of the existing regional criminal intelligence offices. The arrangements for the new squads were made in the course of a series of regional conferences attended by officials from the Home Office Police Research and Planning Branch, representatives of Her Majesty’s Inspectorate of Constabulary (HMIC) and force elites (HO 287/665). Each region was headed by a regional coordinator (of detective chief superintendent rank) who was responsible to a chief constables’ management committee made up of the chiefs of the participating forces, and a HMIC representative. Regional coordinators reported to the national Executive Coordinator based at the Home Office (Maguire and Norris, 1992). Although in the main there was agreement on the need for a regional response to the growing problem of organised crime, a personal communication from the HMIC representative for Wales to J. Haughton, Head of the Police Research and Planning Branch indicates that the squads may have been resisted in some corners. He commented, “I am glad that we can make a start on this venture which I have been campaigning for since 1960 and I can only hope that the results will convert such unbelievers as we have.” (HO 287/665a, letter dated 4th December 1964). The same communication indicates that Home Office planning for the squad’s new branch offices was not as thorough as it might have been. The (unidentified) HMIC member observed that he was: Not very impressed by the need for squads at Hereford, Newtown or Abergavenny. Hereford… comes under No. 4 District [that is, in England rather than in Wales]. Newtown is in the centre of one of the largest expanses of nothing in the country and indeed such crime as does occur is worried to death by the existing CID and uniform personnel who are fairly numerous. Abergavenny is not a centre for crime purposes and has the County Police headquarters there by historical accident only. A former RCS branch commander (N063) noted that the squads’ terms of reference to combat ‘serious and organised crime’ further reinforced the distinction between local policing (and local intelligence gathering) and specialist detective work. He said that the squads relied on the collection of intelligence about suspect individuals or populations and 100 that their officers made extensive use of informers, telephone ‘tapping’ and the other covert policing techniques (of the kind described by Clutterbuck, 2002 – see Table 1) that were not routinely available in mainstream policing. This served to sharpen the distinction between mainstream policing and the specialist detective force even further. Summary of Analysis In the early days of the new police, the Commissioners found it prudent to emphasise the key role of the force as ‘prevention’ rather than ‘detection’ of crime. Uniform patrol officers were employed instead of plain-clothes detectives who might conjure up images of spies and ‘continental despotism’ and provide a focus for resistance to the police. The new force did not represent a clear break with the past. Instead it shared the responsibility for crime investigation with London’s magistrates and their agents. Continuing concerns about the level of crime and the capabilities of the police outweighed suspicion of police spies and stimulated the growth of the detective force and eventually the detective department assumed monopoly control of criminal investigation firstly in the Metropolis and then beyond. In 1878, the CID was established in London under Charles Vincent. He revolutionised the detective force, formalising the distinction between divisional detectives and specialists and introducing the first specialist detective unit, the SIB, which represented a quantum leap in the operational methodology of the detective force and a commitment to longer-term approaches to intelligence work and investigation in relation to political crime. However, his reforms also had the effect of dividing the force, creating a kind of class structure in policing with the specialist detective at its apex and the uniformed branch at its base. The development of the detective force was marked out by consistency and continuity. The report of the Dixon Committee (1933-1936) acknowledged the continuing tension between the CID and the uniformed branch. It was also noteworthy for providing a documented commitment to ILP in the mainstream some 60 years before Phillips’ ‘novel’ 101 plans for policing. The Committee was concerned enough about the obvious divide between the CID and the uniform branches to make a number of recommendations intended to ameliorate the problem. However, its recommendations did nothing to prevent the increasing specialisation of the detective force which was staffed by highly valued ‘thief- catchers’ who utilised investigative tools and techniques that rarely were available in the mainstream, which served only to widen those divisions. I have argued here that over time, investigative expertise was concentrated in specialist detective squads at the expense of mainstream policing and any idea that intelligence might form part of routine policing was ignored. Progressively, the cultural divide between the detective force and the uniformed police and within the detective force between divisional and specialist officers (who snobbishly regarded themselves as an elite) continued to widen. Even though those divisions were obvious to those at highest levels of the police service (not just within the CID), few effective measures were taken to resolve them so that developments in intelligence work and investigative practice in the second half of the nineteenth century and throughout the twentieth century set in place what I will later argue are some of the limiting factors that contributed to the failure of the NIM. 102 Chapter 4 - Contextualising the NIM: Intelligence-Led Investigation Introduction This chapter continues the NIM narrative up to the rediscovery of ILP strategies at the beginning of the 1990s. Specifically, the chapter assesses the extent to which those developments in the police organisation concentrated expertise and resources in the specialist detective squads. I examine the development of a kind of class structure in policing that ultimately undermined Phillips’ ‘whole service’ vision for the NIM. I also examine the policing milieu at the end of the twentieth century. I argue that it is important to consider the policing and policy contexts of criminal investigation and detective work in that period because their influence on the sponsor and authors of the NIM was considerable. UBP, Intelligence Work and the CID This section is largely informed by previously unpublished primary research carried out across England, between 1967 and 1969; the research was completed by officers attending the Bramshill ‘Special Course’ and was part of their formal summative assessment. I discovered it in the archive of the National Police Library at Bramshill. The material itself, forms part of the police archive but unfortunately appear to form part of the police’s organisational memory. I analyse UBP here as the foundation of ILP in Britain in the modern era and as the precursor to the NIM. The reader will see that the architects of the NIM could have learnt much from the implementation failure associated with this policy. That they seem not to have, reveals much about the shortcomings of the organisational memory of the service. I argued earlier that many public sector change programmes have suffered from implementation failure. The UBP system, introduced in England and Wales in 1967, provides a good example of the kinds of challenges that change programmes in this sector 103 face. It is also particularly relevant to this analysis of the NIM because UBP provided the foundation upon which ILP has been constructed in the modern era. UBP represented a shift away from a system of patrol that had existed almost unchanged since its introduction in 1829 by Commissioner Rowan. Rogers (2004) suggested that UBP was an attempt by the Home Office and the police service to address significant staff shortages across England and Wales, to respond to the dramatic increase in the use of vehicles since the Second World War and to modernise a rigid beat patrol system that had changed little in almost 140 years. However, others such as Reiner (2010) and Newburn (2003) argued that ‘revolutionary’ policing tactics like UBP are as much about legitimating the role of the public police as they are about reducing or preventing crime. Rather than being a response to the police’s inability to tackle crime they are, at least in part, a response to government and public identification of the limits of policing. That is, they are about re-establishing the role of the public police as the primary agency of social control (Newburn, 2003). By that analysis, UBP was essentially an attempt by the police elite to retain (or regain) its legitimacy in the face of public and political disquiet about its apparent inability to meet the challenges of that era. It introduced relatively modest changes ‘dressed up’ in the values of the time: scientific progress and modernisation. UBP’s Influence on Patrol Strategies Rand (1970: 14) noted that the old ‘Shorncliffe’ system of patrol that had been introduced by Mayne “had little to commend it other than tradition” and that changes were needed. 14 However, he highlighted that the selection of a model that favoured mobile over foot patrol was odd, given the success of schemes elsewhere that did exactly the opposite. Rand (1970: 14) referred specifically to schemes in the Netherlands which identified that “owing 14 See Chappell (2004) Wellington’s Peninsula Regiments: Light Infantry v. 2 (Men-at-arms). London: Osprey Publishing, for further discussion of the Shorncliffe System. Rowan's instruction book directed that “[the constable] should be able to see every part of his beat at least once in ten minutes or a quarter of an hour; and this he will be expected to do” from Metropolitan Police (2008) The History of Beat Patrol retrieved on 28/02/2011 from http://www.met.police.uk/history/beat_patrol.htm. 104 to the increased use of police motor cars, officers were losing touch with the public and consequently, efficiency was falling off and morale was low”. In a scheme implemented in Arnhem, the municipality was divided into areas of “5,500 to 10,000 inhabitants and of between 237 and 1,284 acres”. Every one of the “mature” officers selected to work in those areas was supplied with a moped, a telephone and (for the purpose of maintaining a “modest” card index) a typewriter. The result was that: The public were getting better service in the matters of petty crimes and complaints… there was a drop in offences… [and] information began to flow from quarters where previously there had been none. The conclusion drawn from the experiment was that ‘for most municipalities the area officer scheme is the only effective method of making up for the disadvantages of motorisation’. Nevertheless, following experiments by the Home Office Police Research and Development Branch into the preventive capacity of foot patrol in Manchester, Sheffield, Newcastle and Cardiff a small-scale UBP scheme was piloted in Kirkby, Lancashire in the spring of 1967. Rand (1970: 14) noted that the Kirkby experiment produced fast response times to calls for assistance but that “communication with the public was diminished and therefore information did not flow”. Consequently when the UBP experiment was extended to Accrington Lancashire, an attempt was made to incorporate the best features of the Kirkby and the Dutch schemes with the four new mobile patrols being supplemented with eight area officers. Rand (1970:15) argued that as a result of the claimed success of the Accrington pilot, on 3rd July 1967 UBP was introduced throughout the city of Birmingham. Therefore in just one year, UBP went “from a small experimental scheme to total adoption in an entire police force” despite the fact that: There had not been time to ascertain if there was any significant difference in crime figures, nor had there really been time to allow operational problems to show themselves properly. Even in 1970, it is arguable that there has been an insufficient time interval to satisfactorily review the trends in the matter. Williamson (1971: 5) noted that the introduction of area policing in Newcastle in March 1967 (as a precursor to UBP) resulted in an 8.3 percent fall in recorded crime and an increase in the detection rate from 40.8 percent to 45.1 percent and as a result, UBP was introduced in the force almost a year later. Williamson clearly was not persuaded by the 105 police data that emerged. He commented that “The figures may be spurious but they were taken as evidence of the success of the area system by senior officers and men. It was this climate which forms the background against which UBP was introduced” (1971: 5). Home Office encouragement to implement UBP often meant tangible rewards for police commanders (a ‘carrot and stick’ approach that will be familiar to the police elite in the modern era). For example, in Newcastle upon Tyne, the decision to accept the change from the Shorncliffe style of patrol to UBP meant that “more equipment – cars and radios” was made available to local commanders (Williamson, 1971: 6). Enthusiasm for additional resources overrode issues such as the need to consult staff over the changes; two thirds of all the constables affected were not given any choice in their new duties, and the lack of prior discussion with staff associations led the Newcastle upon Tyne Police Federation to make a formal complaint to the chief constable (Williamson, 1971: 10). According to Williamson (1971), the ‘discrepancy’ between the elite’s conception of UBP and its interpretation by operational officers was a significant factor in its failure. In my view, poor communication of the sort described here is endemic in policing. The reader will see later that it certainly was a factor in the story of the NIM. Other difficulties were experienced in implementing the system. For example, UBP was not welcomed by communities in Durham where many complaints were received about the low visibility of police officers, particularly in town and city centres (Gearon et al, 1969). Whilst in rural areas of Bedfordshire it was found that due to the low levels of crime and problems with radio coverage the system had to be ‘adapted’ to meet local conditions (Evans et al, 1968). A major issue across England and Wales was the shortage of staff available to implement the new patrol strategy. In the main, these difficulties were attributed to the formula applied by the Home Office to calculate force strengths (Coe et al, 1968; Gearon et al, 1968). Though it was expected to improve relations with the public (Gregory, 1967), UBP since has been criticised for damaging police community relations by introducing an overly-reactive ‘fire brigade” policing style that alienated officers from the communities 106 that they served (Mawby, 2008; Reiner, 1992). The redeployment of ‘street police’ to motor vehicles to create ‘car police’, did not achieve the development of strategy and tactics in the ways envisaged by Gregory and other advocates of the system. UBP and Local Intelligence An important feature of UBP was the new local intelligence system represented by the ‘collator’, a significant development of the criminal intelligence process in mainstream policing because previously there was almost a complete absence of “timely information” available to the beat officer and crime investigator (Rogers, 2004: 3). In interview, a former detective sergeant (DS) (N070) said that before the creation of the collator system there were no formal arrangements for collecting information from beat constables. Officers were issued with a ‘beat book’ which described their beats and patrols and which gave them hints on how to work those beats. He noted that the “women police” (then a distinct entity) “had some ‘good’ files on women and children” though the assimilation of that department into the main body of the service in 1973 meant that “all that was thrown away”.15 Gospel et al (1969: 11) noted that the appointment of collators represented “the start of an entirely new era in police records” because prior to introduction of the new system; information held by individual constables (about the areas that they policed and the communities and individuals that they came into contact with) was lost whenever an officer transferred, resigned from or retired from the force. The former DS (N070) said that before the advent of collators, information was held in “old experienced officers’ heads” and nowhere else. Collators collected information from a wide variety of sources and forwarded it to others who might need it (Rogers, 2004). They maintained a daily record sheet containing evaluated information, a main index of offenders or suspects living on (or who were known to frequent) the division, a suspect vehicle index, an index of serious or 15 The Metropolitan Police’s A4 Branch (Women Police) was established in 1930 as a separate section of the force. The branch was dissolved in 1969 and women assimilated into the main force in 1973. 107 unusual crimes, a prostitutes index and a street index (which included various premises of interest to the police such as licensed premises) (Gospel et al, 1969). However, they usually were given no training for their work. Several respondents (N030, N046, N059 and N060) said that the selection criteria for the new posts were applied arbitrarily. A former collator in south-east London in the late 1960s (N046) recalled that when the system was implemented in his division, the job was given to “the laziest man at the station”. While a former collator in central London (N059) recalled that he was offered the post when it was recognised by supervisors that the incumbent “was not up to the job”. Essentially, it was not the most talented of officers that were appointed to the role but those who for, whatever reason, were out of favour with their supervisors. In that sense, for some the collators job was almost a ‘punishment posting’. Many other factors served to undermine the effectiveness of the new arrangements. Two former collators (N059 and N030) said that they worked with little assistance and without any of the technological aids available to intelligence staff today. As a result of their research in the South-East Region, Coe et al (1968) found that in some forces, collators were regularly given ancillary tasks that took them away from their intelligence duties. In the North-East Region, collators often worked in cramped and inappropriate conditions (Gearon et al, 1968) and even the strongest advocates of the system admitted that it could be inefficient. For example, an early evaluation found that a large amount of the information that was passed to the collator was never used (Gregory, 1967). The system did not address the lack of interconnectedness in the national intelligence system as it was essentially intended to be a repository of information for local officers. Though collators were instructed to forward information on offenders to the clearing houses at headquarters level, this was an inefficient process and local police received little intelligence in return. A point made repeatedly by former collators (including N030, N046, N059 and N060). UBP’s impact was intended to be felt far beyond intelligence work. Gregory (1967: 8) argued that it would change the role of supervisors so that leadership would become more important than supervision. Inspectors would become “strategists” keeping 108 themselves up to date with crime trends and directing the daily work of sergeants. Rather than spending their time checking up on constables, sergeants would utilise “modern (sic) communications and mobility” to become “leaders and tacticians” so that supervisors would be able to mobilise forces very quickly. Gregory (1967: 8) imagined “a sergeant in the early hours… marshalling his units and carrying out a sweep through the area, checking persons and property”. He argued that: With this method of rapid, unexpected action, the police are on the offensive, using modern and sophisticated equipment to catch offenders when they are off their guard, and to harass them by the necessity of being more on guard than before. The research evidence available, suggests that Gregory’s vision of proactive policing was overly-optimistic. Certainly no accounts of such events were uncovered in this research. Instead the reactive paradigm continued to dominate. UBP and the CID The popular perception of the changes brought about by UBP, reinforced by the image of the panda car popularised by contemporary British police dramas such as Z Cars, is that it was focused almost exclusively on the uniform department. However, the CID was meant to play a crucial role with divisional detectives being part of the new ‘area’ units so that the car beats would have been supplemented by ‘area’ uniformed officers and detectives but in practice detectives’ involvement was minimal (Rogers, 2004). It was therefore predictable that as early as 1975, a Home Office study would report “inadequate implementation” of UBP (Mawby, 2008: 280). In principle, UBP meant that for the very first time, some CID officers would be supervised by local police commanders rather than by their detective chief superintendent. This, explicitly, was a measure that was intended to break down the continuing divide between the uniform branch and detectives (Gregory, 1967). However, it was unsuccessful. Just one year into the experiment, Gregory was moved to observe that UBP demanded “a certain basic structure for the CID which was not the same as that in use in many forces” (Gregory, 1968: 46). It was also clear that the new commitment to joint working was 109 restricted to the divisional CID with no attempt at all made to bridge the continuing divide between the divisional CID and specialist squads.16 In practice, the extent of CID involvement in the new units varied from force to force. For example, in Kent and Durham, divisional CID officers were not allocated to the new area teams (Coe et al 1969; Gearon et al, 1969 respectively). In Bedfordshire, CID officers were attached to the teams. However, detectives were overwhelmed by the volume of crime they were expected to investigate (Evans et al, 1968). In Manchester, Salford and Birmingham, it was found to be impractical to attach CID officers to the new teams because of differential crime rates; in some areas, detectives carried an enormous caseload while colleagues in other areas were under-employed (Watson et al, 1969; Gospel et al, 1969; Bennison et al, 1968). Similarly in Kent, differential caseloads meant that the divisional CID undertook all crime investigation. Though in an attempt to comply with the spirit of the system a liaison system was established between beat constables and local detectives (Coe et al, 1969). In Birmingham, it was decided that many of the beats “did not lend themselves to be used as a basis for the organisation of the CID” (Gospel et al, 1969: 9). Rawlings (2006: 65) has argued that though UBP provided new opportunities for improved “cooperation and information flow between the uniform and detective branches” the cultural divide between the two was never overcome because these policies were presented by police managers without any real conviction. He speculated that to do otherwise would undermine “the important image of detection as complex and skilled” an image which the CID had carefully constructed (Rawlings 2006: 65). UBP was intended to revolutionise patrol but its success depended inter alia on the cooperation of the detective force. As the reader has seen, this was rarely forthcoming in practice. Writing in 1970, some three years after UBP was introduced, Rand (1970: 15) noted that it was “far too soon… to say whether there has been any effect upon crime figures which can be directly attributed to the system” rather than to factors such as legislative 16 Specialist CID units are not referred to at all either in the Home Office (1967) Report on Police Manpower, Equipment and Efficiency or by informed commentators such as Gregory (1967). 110 change or force reorganisation. However, by the 1970s, UBP had become the standard method of delivering local policing (Mawby, 2008). Clearly then, implementation was something of a leap of faith, there was no formal evaluation of UBP before it was implemented nationally and in fact “scant evaluation research” to assess and support its continuation (Weatheritt cited in Mawby, 2008: 280). I will argue later that a similar leap of faith was taken by those who invested in the NIM. As the reader has seen, rather than collaborating with the uniformed branch to deliver a new system of area policing, the CID was able to sidestep the changes that occurred in the mainstream by citing differential crime rates or caseloads. I argue that these amounted to the “avoidance” strategies that Skogan (2008: 27) has argued are often employed by elite police units. Those strategies allowed the CID to maintain its distance from the uniformed branch, to continue to operate according to its established values and traditions and to maintain the ‘professional’ image it had constructed for itself. Today there is almost universal agreement that UBP was a failure. Commentators have described it as at best “misconceived” (Newburn, 2003: 59) and at worst “a disaster” (Mainwaring-White, 1983 in Newburn, 2003: 60). As far back as 1971, there were indications that the model was fundamentally flawed. Williamson (1971: 13) argued that the experiment was always “unlikely to achieve some of its major goals” and that any gains made in terms of mobility and response times were far outweighed by the deterioration in the relationship between police and public. UBP failed because it was never fully or consistently implemented. Arguably, it was understood inconsistently by those who were intended to implement it and, consequently, different people interpreted it in different ways. I argue that a significant factor in the ‘misinterpretation’ of UBP was the failure of commanders to harness the experience and expertise of the detective force (particularly the specialist detective force) in crime-fighting. In his policing models, Phillips sought to overcome that division by developing a ‘whole service’ approach linked to a new proactive paradigm. However, the reader will see later that he was only partly successful. Given the 111 history of policing, the division and the continuing dominance of the reactive paradigm were always likely to challenge Phillips’ plans for a whole service approach. Scrutiny of the CID At the beginning of the 1970s, the Home Office made a concerted effort to address what it saw as the CID’s abuse of its powers. Mark’s appointment as Metropolitan Police Commissioner in 1972 was as a result of a major corruption scandal involving the CID in London (see Appendix D). As much of an outsider as Vincent had been almost 100 years earlier, Mark found, just as Vincent had done before him, that the relationship between the detective and uniformed departments was problematic. He noted that the uniformed officer continued to bear "the brunt of violence...and he has long resented the airs and graces of the CID [which continued to regard]... itself as an elite body, higher paid by way of allowances and factually, fictionally and journalistically more glamorous" (cited in Hobbs, 1988: 72- 73). Mark’s reforms were aimed at eradicating CID corruption. He overhauled the department, removing CID commanders, replacing them with senior officers from the uniformed branch, and bringing in a system of ‘interchange’ between the branches so that detectives no longer had CID jobs for life. He believed that his changes fundamentally altered the balance of power between the CID and uniform branches in London. Incidentally, Mark has claimed to be the first Commissioner to implement ILP strategies (though they were not known by that name in that period), arguing that he was forced into that action by “the refusal of successive governments… to allow the police adequate resources to fulfil their primary function of prevention” (Mark, 1978: 293). The police “long had a shrewd idea of the patterns of major crime and of those involved” which justified Mark’s concentration of “comparatively small numbers of hand-picked men and women to specialise in intelligence gathering and surveillance” in specialist squads. However, as he attested, the numbers involved in such work were small and the vast majority of the force continued to operate in the traditional way (1978: 294). 112 Hobbs (1988: 183) argued that despite Mark’s efforts in London, the culture of the CID in the 1970s and 1980s remained elitist by virtue of “historical precedent, occupational requirements and internal organisation”. He highlighted the significance in this context of a distinct detective culture that combined “elements of ritualistic formality with patronage and individualistic entrepreneurial action” (1988: 184). Those qualities are unique to the ‘new centurion’ personality type, the dedicated crime fighter described by Reiner (2010) in his typology of police culture, and can be easily identified in the makeup of Thomson’s ‘thief-catchers’ (Thomson, 1921).17 Hobbs’ account of the interaction of detectives and criminal entrepreneurs in the East End of London at the beginning of the 1980s, offers a fascinating insight into the reflexive occupational culture of the CID in the “urban milieu” (1988: 2). He argued that the working personality of detectives was marked out by “deceit, evasiveness, duplicity, lying, innuendo, secrecy, double talk and triple talk” (1988: 197). Once CID status was achieved, new detectives “quickly meld[ed] into the department’s style, pursuing its rituals to form a new link in the tradition of the CID (Young, 1991: 81). These traditions required recruits to adopt the dominant culture and priorities of the department which included distancing themselves as far as possible from the “formal administrative restraints” of uniformed policing to allow themselves to deal with ‘real’ crime (Hobbs, 1999: 1). The elevation of mainstream uniformed officers to the CID enhanced their power and reach, signalling a switch from the ordinary to the extraordinary “from the maintenance of order to thief-taking” (Hobbs, 1988: 210). The reader can see that in almost 100 years little had changed in this regard. Specialist Detective Work at the End of the Twentieth Century The enthusiasm for the specialist squad system continued unabated into the modern era. The last quarter of the twentieth century saw the development of new detective departments that had an explicitly national (and increasingly, international) focus. In this section, I 17 Reiner’s analysis of police culture describes officers as either Bobbies, new centurions, uniform carriers or professionals (see Reiner, 2010: 132 for further discussion). 113 examine the national detective bodies, the differential treatment of divisional and specialist detectives and the continuing resilience of the squad system. New National Detective Bodies In 1972, the Metropolitan Police established the Central Drugs Intelligence and Illegal Immigration Unit (CDIIIU), the first detective unit with an explicitly national remit. A former RCS branch commander (N063) said that the unit was staffed with specially selected Met CID officers and detectives from other Home Counties forces. At the beginning of the 1980s, the Home Office appointed a National Coordinator for Drugs Intelligence to oversee the creation of a National Drugs Intelligence Unit (NDIU) and in 1985 the NDIU took over the functions of the CDIIIU and took up occupation of the same suite of offices at New Scotland Yard. The metamorphosis of the CDIIIU into the NDIU largely reflected a desire on the part of the Home Office to develop a national strategy to combat the growing problem of drug trafficking. Met detectives were soon joined by others from across the UK and HM Customs and Excise drugs investigators on lengthy secondments to the unit. Neither the CDIIIU nor the NDIU possessed an operational capability. Their role was to collect, evaluate and disseminate intelligence ‘packages’ to operational teams within the police or HM Customs. Though the scope of their work was limited by this lack of operational capacity, the units provided a single point of contact for UK and foreign police departments, for Customs and border agencies and for others such as representatives of the pharmaceutical industry. Though it was located at New Scotland Yard, the NDIU reported directly to the Home Office-appointed National Coordinator. The former RCS branch commander (N063) said that the NDIU was the first truly multi-agency intelligence unit established in the UK in the modern era and that apart from its intelligence function; the unit also played an important role in informing Government policy in this period. Matassa and Newburn (2007: 59) observed that at the end of the 1980s there was increasing support within the police and the Home Office for further development of the 114 “de facto policing establishment” and the appointment of a national body headed by an individual with the status that would allow them to speak for UK law enforcement and with the executive authority commensurate with the role. Hebenton and Thomas (1995) noted that there was broad agreement on the need for such a development. However, much of the debate surrounding the establishment of the new body focused on whether it should have an executive operational capacity besides its intelligence gathering function. The head of the NDIU and the executive coordinator of the RCS were in favour of such a change, whilst others such as the chair of the Police Federation were strongly against it. Ultimately, the Home Office’s decision was to limit the function of the new body to intelligence gathering and to charge the existing RCSs with the operational response. In 1992, the Home Office established the National Criminal Intelligence Service (NCIS) and appointed at its head, a Director General with the status and authority that the police service had sought. The NDIU and the National Football Intelligence Unit (NFIU) (that had been established in 1989) were merged into the new agency (Matassa and Newburn, 2007), as were various HM Customs intelligence units. The new body took on the responsibility for managing intelligence on national and international crime and also for producing an annual ‘threat assessment’ for the UK. The assessment considered the various threats to the nation from serious and organised crime, attempted to forecast developments in those areas and was intended to inform policy. However, the former RCS branch commander (N063) said that the assessment very much represented NCIS’s view of the world because it was not informed by any intelligence analyses from forces. An intelligence analyst (N084) said that in the early days of the NIM, there was a notion (part of Phillips’ original ‘Big Idea’ for the model) that intelligence assessments generated in forces would be used to inform the threat assessment. However, she said that those aspirations seemed, “very quietly” to have been abandoned during the implementation process (discussed later). Soon after NCIS was established, further plans were announced for a national detective agency. The Police Act 1997 created the National Crime Squad (NCS) from the existing RCSs and placed NCIS on a statutory footing (Uglow and Telford, 1997). The 115 expectation was that the NCIS managed the intelligence and the crime squads provided the operational capability and expertise that the CDIIU and the NDIU had lacked. In interview, a former RCS branch commander (N063) said these acts were rarely carried out by divisional detectives though the powers were used increasingly frequently by specialist detective units. The former RCS branch commander said that detectives’ perception of the national policing arrangements was that the NCS was first amongst these equals. Though on the surface NCS and NCIS enjoyed a symbiotic relationship, in practice the NCS generated most of its operations itself and would happily have ignored the NCIS except for the latter’s monopoly control of telephone interception by the police. 18 A serious crime squad detective (N079) said that the popular perception of NCIS within police circles was that with no operational capability of its own, it was no more than a talking shop which occupied “the ivory towers of Spring Gardens (its HQ in Vauxhall, London) without much real purpose”. NCIS’ lack of credibility was commented upon by many respondents in this study. Given the status of specialist detectives in policing, it is perhaps surprising that it was thought of in this way. I argue that one reason was the relative invisibility of NCIS’ work but other factors such as the high proportion of civilian support staff employed in the agency (for a discussion of the opposition of police officers to civilianisation see Jones and Newburn, 1997) and the attitude of the modern police service to intelligence work (which is explored later in this thesis) were also significant. The reader will see later that NCIS played a key role in developing the NIM (incidentally, the NCS played no meaningful part in its development) and promulgating it across the police service. However, the reader will also see that the organisation’s ‘distance’ from the mainstream (both in terms of its national and international remits and the secrecy with which it generally operated) meant that NCIS’ message that the NIM could revolutionise intelligence work and investigative practice never carried the weight that an objective observer might expect. 18 Under the Interception of Communications Act 1985 (IOCA) and later under Part 1 of the Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act 2000 (RIPA). 116 Controlling the Detectives At the organisational level, the accountability of the detective force is established through a hierarchical rank structure that provides a level of supervision aimed at producing a disciplined and responsible force. Just like their uniformed colleagues, detectives are subject to a police disciplinary code that may punish inappropriate conduct. Maguire and Norris (1992) argued that understanding the supervision of detectives and criminal investigations was the key to understanding CID inefficiencies and malpractice. In their view, the continuing “frequent, informal contact” with criminals (that caused concern to Reiner, 2010 and also those tasked with investigating detectives’ corruption) was but one factor in what they perceived to be the wider problem of ‘supervision’ (Maguire and Norris 1992: 23-24). Maguire and Norris (1992: 24) felt that supervision in the CID was problematic because even though the supervisory ratio was higher than in the uniform department, there was much less actual supervision of detectives’ work and CID officers of all ranks saw supervision as “of necessity different to that in the uniform branch… Supervision had to be based on trust rather than ‘checking up on people’”. The final element of ‘the problem’ was the tendency of supervisors to carry their own individual caseload and to engage in activities similar to those undertaken by their juniors so that the supervision was pushed into second place “behind the job of clearing up crime”. Divisional CID work largely was more transparent and accountable to uniform commanders than specialist detective work (Maguire and Norris, 1992). The dual chain of command, under which divisional detectives worked, pulled staff in different directions. As divisional personnel, they were responsible to the local uniformed commander but they also had answered to the head of the CID at force headquarters. Maguire and Norris (1992: 26) argued that the system reinforced the idea of the CID as a ‘firm within a firm’ because it “generated periodic controversy and argument exacerbated by traditional rivalries… and resentment… of the tendency of CID officers to by-pass local uniform branch structures”. 117 Research into specialist detective squads, revealed much about their ability to operate ‘in the shadows’, to distance themselves from internal supervision and scrutiny (Morgan et al, 1996).19 Most squads professed to support force objectives. However, in practice those rarely translated into measurable operational standards and there was little use of performance indicators to monitor their work (Morgan et al, 1996). Maguire and Norris (1992) found that there was rigorous managerial control over activity and personnel in the squads they visited. However, this was not replicated across all forces. Morgan et al (1996) were critical of the way in which force executives failed to scrutinise squad work. Squads accumulated only a very limited amount of management information so that their total running costs were rarely calculated (Morgan et al, 1996). Moreover, day-to-day operations were conducted independently of BCUs, and little information was available (either to the researchers or the BCUs) about how they generated work. Formal agreements to provide assistance to BCUs existed only in respect of surveillance. This severely limited BCUs’ ability to obtain assistance for policing problems in the mainstream (Morgan et al, 1996). The reader will see in the ‘County’ case study, that this continued to be a significant issue in policing and that in that regard, the NIM had no effect on the police organisation. The relationship between the specialist detectives and the other sections of the service was an uneasy one. This was partly attributable to organisational history and partly to mutual suspicion over each other’s motivations and aims. As the foregoing analysis showed. suspicion hindered effective information sharing between the two. In interview, a NCIS senior executive (N02) pointed to a further divide between the CID and the uniformed branch. He said that there was never a culture of intelligence, or of intelligence work, in mainstream policing. Detectives were reluctant to share information freely for fear of compromising investigations or revealing that they were interested in particular individuals or groups and, in the NCIS executive’s view, there was never enough of a drive to get information out of people’s heads into some kind of organisational memory. 19 The research was carried out between October 1993 and December 1994 in the Metropolitan Police Area; Northamptonshire, Thames Valley, West Mercia and West Yorkshire. 118 Often, the best sources of intelligence were kept from local officers. Information from informers, described by a former detective inspector (N055) as the life blood of the specialist squads, was never entered into the local intelligence system. Clearly, there were issues that today would be included under the heading of ‘duty of care’ (particularly in relation to the well-being and safety of the person providing the information. However, in the view of a former South London collator (N046), this was because informers were “in the main down to CID staff” with whom collators had a “bad” relationship. He said that as a local collator in the 1970s, he had never once received information from the CID. Echoing the earlier comments of the ACPO member (N053), he remained convinced that even when appropriate safeguards were put in place, CID officers believed that “knowledge was power” therefore it should not be shared. In the same vein, a former collator in West London (N030) said that officers from specialist squads refused to share intelligence with their uniformed colleagues. They routinely carried out “night raids” on the collator’s office so that local officers could not identify those subjects of interest to the squads. A former collator in south London (N046) said that when officers from specialist squads visited his office during the day, they would go straight to the intelligence records without any invitation and often had to be asked to introduce themselves and to explain the purpose of their visit. It was the experience of another ACPO member (N03), that the CID made a contribution to local intelligence in this period but “it was on their terms” and usually “historical rather than current” and therefore in practice rather less valuable. There was little recognition of the need for a ‘whole service’ approach. The Resilience of the Specialist Squads As I argued earlier, both the Home Office and the police elite recognised the advantages of reforming the CID by bringing it under the control and influence of the traditionally more disciplined and better supervised, uniformed branch. However, attempts in the 1960s (through the UBP experiment) and in the 1970s and 1980s (as a response to the uncovering 119 of CID corruption and malpractice) were only partially successful. Given the foregoing analysis and the sequence of events that led to Mark’s appointment as Commissioner, it is incongruous that reforms that brought divisional detectives under the control of local uniformed commanders should leave specialist squads (which were perceived by many to offer the greatest scope for corruption) under the control of CID commanders (see Appendix D for further discussion on that point). However, the reader will see that the squad system has proved, and continues to prove, to be extremely resilient. Morgan et al (1996: 3) argued that there was a need for a wide-ranging review of the very existence of specialist squads. In their view, the case for the squads was not made out because of the lack of information about what they actually produced and too little attention was paid to weighing up the balance between the “classic alternatives - squad or BCU” (1999). Waddington (1999: 232) criticised specialist squads in this period for exacerbating problems in mainstream policing by allowing the more capable officers to escape from the “drudgery” of uniform patrol thereby ‘deskilling’ mainstream policing which was left to deal with the “rump” of tasks for which no one else in the police organisation wanted responsibility. Whilst Reiner (2010: 92) argued that the uniformed branch was treated as merely a reserve from which “high-flying potential specialists could be drawn”. Squad managers emphasised their compliance with the administrative aspects of guidance from central authorities but in practice they focused on complying with those guidelines rather than attempting to achieve intended outcomes (in other words, squads were well practised at achieving what Goldstein (1979) has called ‘administrative competence’) (Morgan et al, 1996). This seemed to satisfy force executives who, despite the fact that their forces fell short of meeting centrally-imposed targets, continued to view specialist units as permanent and did not periodically review whether the arguments for setting up, continuing or disbanding the squads remained relevant. It has been noted that one supposed advantage of specialist units is that they can be “dissolved when conditions and priorities change” (Waddington, 1999: 233). However, Morgan et al (1996) found that 120 alternatives to the squad system (such as providing a central source of expertise and guidance which could be accessed by investigating officers from BCUs) received little or no consideration. The argument was advanced that forces could consider a middle ground “such as one where an individual or smaller specialist teams operate centrally and provide the necessary professional support for mainstream investigations to be carried out within BCUs” as a viable alternative to their traditional specialist squads (Morgan et al, 1996). Some limited evidence was found in this research to suggest that, from time to time, this was a course adopted in some forces in response to events. However, Waddington (1999: 233) argued that specialist squads are adept at lobbying to protect their own interests even when they are in conflict with the interests of the organisation as a whole. Lobbying activity may reflect “genuine concerns”, by squad members but it could “militate against the most rational allocation of resources when viewed from the perspective of the organisation as a whole”. As the reader will see later in this study, the County case study provides an excellent example of such a conflict. At the end of the twentieth century, commentators acknowledged that the divide between the CID and the uniform branches was as wide as it ever had been. Though some researchers highlighted the differential treatment of the specialist detective force, little attention was given to why the police elite continued to afford it that latitude and that is a question that is worth some attention here. I argue that in the first half of the twentieth century, the elite saw the detective force and, increasingly, the specialist detective force, as the means by which many of their most challenging policing problems would be resolved. The analyses of the formation of the Flying Squad and the Special Duty Squad in particular, provided compelling evidence to support that contention. The establishment of the Special Duty Squad also demonstrated that in response to political pressure, the police elite was not averse to turning a blind eye to ethically questionable means to secure what it perceived to be morally good ends (for further discussion of what has been termed The Dirty Harry Problem see Klockars, 1980). Its 121 reluctance to challenge the CID, to bring it into line, was based on self-interest. According to that thesis, the continuing divide between the branches was a price worth paying. It is my contention that the work of Maguire and Norris (1992) and Morgan et al (1996) explored in this section, demonstrates that senior commanders continued to defer to an unreconstructed specialist detective force in the second half of the century. That is not to suggest that the specialist force always had things its own way. From time to time, the elite was forced to take, very public, action against particular squads (such as the Obscene Publications Squad in London (see Cox, Shirley and Short, 1977) or the Serious Crime Squad in the West Midlands (see HC Deb 25th January 1989 volume 145 cc1155-60) but otherwise commanders rarely asked questions about the methods squads used. Where reform was considered, this usually was only in the context of the dissolution or reorganisation of individual squads rather than the reform of a system which despite its successes reinforced the divisions between different elements of the service and, as the reader will see later, challenged Phillips’ ambitions for a ‘whole service’ response to policing problems in the modern era. Policing with Intelligence Good intelligence might be considered to be essential for policing but as the foregoing analysis has shown, though specialist detective units recognised that intelligence work was core business, it was not considered important in the mainstream. Partly, this was a consequence of the policing styles that were adopted (or that evolved) in the mainstream, so that routine policing was essentially reactive in nature whilst specialist detective work became more proactive. Reactive approaches represent the ‘traditional’ style of policing that gives priority “to responding to day-to-day demands” (termed ‘fire brigade policing’ by Reiner (2000) and others). Proactive approaches often prioritise “longer-term planning and agendas set by the police” (Maguire, 2008: 437). Employed by the specialist detective force those approaches invariably involve the targeting of suspect individuals or groups. 122 However, it must be highlighted that specialist detectives represent only a very small proportion of the detective force and that most detective work follows the reactive tradition. Flood (2004: 1) argued that a factor in the apparent neglect of intelligence work was that traditionally most forces were too preoccupied with investigating reported crime “even where they accepted the possibility that the predictive ability of good intelligence systems might eventually help to reduce the overall level of crime”. Therefore the mainstream reactive policing tradition meant that “too great an act of faith was required” to invest more widely in the intelligence function as there was no history of intelligence gathering in any formal sense outside the Special Branch and other specialist detective units. It was not until 10 years after the introduction of the collator system (as part of UBP) that any serious attempt was made to raise the status of intelligence work in the mainstream. In 1974, ACPO established a sub-committee on ‘Criminal Intelligence’ chaired by G.H. Baumber, ACC of West Midlands Police. Between August 1974 and May 1975, the Baumber committee set to its task by visiting a number of police forces in England, Wales and Scotland and an RCS headquarters.20 Baumber also commissioned a survey of the chief constables of England and Wales. He identified the absence of a common vision or strategic aim for intelligence and identified that in the 1970s there was not even a commonly accepted definition of the term in mainstream policing (ACPO, 1975). Baumber found that the training offered to intelligence staff, where it was offered at all, was extremely limited. The selection and training of staff involved in intelligence work has always been an issue. Many have questioned the adequacy of intelligence training in mainstream policing in this period (for example, see Innes, Fielding and Cope, 2005 and Innes, 2003). In summary, local intelligence officers received little instruction for the duties they were expected to undertake with many posts being filled by officers who were unfit for (or otherwise unable to carry out) operational duties. This was in stark contrast to 20 These were: the Metropolitan Police, Ayrshire Constabulary, Glasgow City Police, Leicestershire Constabulary, West Mercia Constabulary, Merseyside Police, Thames Valley Police, South Wales Police, Hampshire Constabulary and No. 4 Regional Crime Squad (Baumber, 1975: 4). 123 British military intelligence and the security services where intelligence work was always considered the preserve of the sharpest and most able minds (see for example Herman, 2001). In an attempt to remedy what he had called a “haphazard and controversial subject”, Baumber recommended minimum standards for the collection and management of intelligence and a process for the development of intelligence, known as the intelligence cycle, that remains fundamentally unchanged today (see Figure 1) (ACPO, 1975: 26). Baumber (ACPO, 1975: 27) recommended improvements in the police intelligence structure (for example, by establishing new intelligence units at force, regional and national levels to provide an “accountable chain of responsibility” for intelligence work) and in the training of intelligence staff (highlighting, for example, that it should be a “countrywide requirement” for every police officer to be “educated as to the criminal intelligence process”. However, this was long before the ACPO membership had agreed its policy of ‘presumption in favour of compliance’ and Baumber seems to have been well aware that there was no guarantee that his recommendations would be accepted. Sensitive to those considerations, Baumber favoured the implementation of “general principles” for intelligence work which could be adapted to local conditions such as “the nature and density of the population… the crime rate and the actual police establishment” (ACPO, 1975: 6). 124 Figure 1 – the Intelligence Cycle (Dixon, 2001) Interestingly, in terms of the subsequent development of intelligence work, Baumber and other committee members visited Thames Valley Police headquarters to view an experiment in “computerised criminal intelligence”. He concluded that work was not sufficiently advanced to allow the committee to come to a decision on the potential of the end product (ACPO 1975: 27).21 The result was that the possibilities that computerisation of intelligence records in mainstream policing offered, were largely ignored for a generation. In 1986, frustrated with its lack of progress in implementing a national intelligence system worthy of the name, ACPO commissioned a further study under A.B. Ratcliffe, ACC of Cambridgeshire Constabulary. Ratcliffe credited Baumber with being the first in the service to acknowledge that intelligence was more than the information obtained from informers. However, he found that few of Baumber’s recommendations had been implemented. (ACPO, 1986). Intelligence staff remained untrained and existing intelligence units were ill-equipped to meet the challenges they faced at the end of the twentieth century. Few chief officers had established force intelligence bureaux and even 21 It is worth noting that the Metropolitan Police Service, by far the largest force in the UK, did not establish a computerised intelligence system for mainstream policing until 1998. 125 where such units were introduced, there was wide variation in their staffing and the capability, and the proposed national intelligence office received little further consideration (ACPO, 1986). Just as Baumber had done before him, Ratcliffe emphasised the need to coordinate intelligence gathering activities, to police in a more intelligent way by making better use of information to direct operational activity and to guide resource allocation. However, he was no more successful than Baumber in effecting meaningful change (Grieve, 2004). Flood (2003) and Grieve (2004) separately argued that the service ignored the ACPO reports because it did not value intelligence and Skogan (2008: 29) also noted that intelligence is an “important organizational function that often gets short changed”. Moreover, interviewed for this research, an experienced former RCS detective (N063) reflecting on his experiences of police intelligence work said that “I always thought that we were the worst at what we should have been best at”. Now, one can only speculate why established models such as those used by the armed forces, the security services, and others highlighted by academic research in the USA (see for example Kent, 1967), appear to have been ignored. However, it may be that a different analytical framework is required. Sharing intelligence means sharing knowledge which can mean relinquishing power and control. Conversely, it may be argued that establishing new knowledge systems can mean gaining power and control. Perhaps, it is that gain (or loss) of power and control that chief officers have resisted. Unresolved, the debate about intelligence raged on and in 1997 yet another inquiry was commissioned; in this case by HMIC rather than by ACPO. The inquiry took the form of a thematic inspection of the intelligence capacity of the police forces of England and Wales. The inspectors made a number of recommendations to improve intelligence work in the UK (HMIC, 1997: 34-35). Most relevant in the context of this study were: that forces should appoint a senior officer, a ‘director of intelligence’ (DOI) to take ownership of the intelligence assets held by the force; that forces should publish an intelligence strategy with clearly defined aims that should be communicated to all staff; that they should establish a 126 properly integrated intelligence structure from BCU through to force level and, that forces should adopt “formal tasking criteria” for the deployment of its specialist units and introduce costing and evaluation of completed operations (all of which in due course became key elements of the NIM). I argue that HMIC’s instructions signal that these structures and processes, which the reader might consider essential for effective, efficient and economic investigative strategies, largely were lacking in most forces in this period. Stevens (2001) (a former Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police) described the intelligence ideal. He likened the police intelligence system to a pyramid. At its base were the basic command units, going up through force headquarters to upper levels populated by national and international agencies (such as NCIS and then SOCA). Stevens said that for the model to work effectively, it had to have structures that allowed intelligence to flow freely at and between every level and between agencies. The most important structures were at the local or BCU level because it was there that most officers operated and that most intelligence was collected. However, the intelligence process was just as important. It had to be clearly defined and understood by everyone. As the reader can see, in setting out his ideal, Stevens glossed over many of the problems in intelligence work. Though a more objective commentator may question whether the evidence revealed by the inspection justified the optimism expressed in its report, HMIC (1997) professed itself impressed with the progress that many forces were making in developing their intelligence capability according to Stevens’ ideal. However, its description of the different directions that forces across the UK were taking (praised by the inspectors as “indicating an increasing focus on intelligence-led policing styles) also illustrated the lack of coordination of intelligence work in this era. Notably, one of the forces singled out for approval was Kent Police. Kent was commended for having restructured its “policing philosophy around an intelligence led, proactive approach” particularly in its piloting of a new crime management model (HMIC, 1997: 39). I will go on to examine those developments in the next chapter. What was obvious was that a real 127 commitment to intelligence work in the mainstream could open up the policing habitus to a variety of new approaches. It is to those approaches that this thesis now turns. Summary of Analysis The second half of the century witnessed repeated attempts by the police to assert their role as a core institution in the face of government and public discontent with their performance. One such attempt, the introduction of UBP, was meant to revolutionise police patrol and crime investigation to demonstrate to the Home Office and communities in a very public way that the police were willing to change. However, the system was bound to fail because the management change strategy selected was incapable of translating policy into effective practice. In the particular context of this study, UBP failed because it did not harness the efforts of divisional detectives effectively enough and it had no discernible impact on the work of the specialist squads so that the most capable and experienced detectives continued to operate outside the mainstream (its failure to inform the NIM also amounted to a failure in the organisational memory). A significant development brought about by UBP was the creation of a local intelligence system for mainstream policing. However, collators were poorly trained and resourced and there was resistance to the new system particularly from the CID. Mark’s appointment as Commissioner signalled a renewed commitment to reform the CID and investigative practice. He believed that his changes fundamentally altered the balance of power between the CID and the uniformed branch in London but the consensus is that despite his best intentions, Mark left the elitist detective culture fundamentally intact. Moreover, his failure to reconcile the differences between the branches was particularly significant in the context of this study because the continuing of that divide between the divisional CID, specialist detectives and the uniformed branch that Mark’s reforms were meant to address, continues to the present day. This chapter examined the CID, investigative practice and the wider policing milieu from which the NIM emerged at the end of the twentieth century. Researchers identified 128 ‘the problem of supervision’ in the CID as key to understanding detectives’ inefficiencies and malpractice but organisationally these were to all intents and purposes ignored and the governance and management arrangements of the detective force were little changed in this period. Research into the operation of the specialist detective squads revealed their ability to operate ‘in the shadows’ and to distance themselves from internal scrutiny. The raison d’etre of specialist squads was never questioned and their day-to-day operations were conducted independently of BCUs with little information available about how squads generated their work. Police organisational culture continued to accord high status to the action-orientated specialist CID units and neither senior commanders nor police middle managers demonstrated any real enthusiasm for implementing meaningful change. Additionally, the class structure that had developed in the service was maintained and was even reinforced by the introduction of the new national units. Managerialist reforms introduced a new system of audit and performance indicators in detective work but most significantly, in the context of this study, they heralded a new era where policing was redefined explicitly as ‘crime control’. The focus on crime control imperatives appealed to detectives’ traditional value systems but this was to the detriment of the wider police organisation and the mistaken assumption that more specialist departments utilising better technologies could make a real difference to crime levels served only to siphon off officers from mainstream patrol duties and further insulate the specialist units from the challenges of the mainstream. The Audit Commission, HMIC, new specialist detective agencies (such as NCIS and NCS), the COMPSTAT system and ACPO represented both a new bureaucracy to oversee senior commanders and a policy community in which the discrete bodies worked together to influence policing policy. However, a continuing commitment to ‘traditional’ reactive practice and/or an ideological commitment to what I have termed ‘preventative’ proactive policing meant that intelligence work, the reorganisation of the CID and the reconfiguration of investigative practice remained firmly off the policy agenda in this period. 129 It should be stressed that the shift in crime control strategies in this period was not as great, nor the rejection of the traditional reactive model as complete, as the popular discourse suggests. I have argued that a distinction should be made between the administrative function that underpins most ILP in the mainstream and ‘operationalised ILP’. The former focuses on problem-solving, partnership and longer-term approaches to changing the social environment and is more closely associated with a ‘preventative’ proactive policing style. Specialist detectives hold a near-monopoly on the latter, which targets groups and individuals using covert methods and is much more associated with the crime control policing philosophy. What all these innovative approaches had in common is that they were undermined by a failure to establish a credible intelligence structure capable of supporting them. I argue that at the end of the twentieth century a policing model like the NIM was ‘heaven- sent’ for those who wanted to demonstrate that they were responding to the challenges that policing faced at this time and who recognised the weak foundations on which proactive strategies were built. I explore the ways in which Phillips and his colleagues in the Kent force took up that challenge in the next chapter. It should now be clear that from the very beginning of public policing there has been a split between what might on the one hand be thought of as a reflective, thoughtful, intelligence-led approach to criminal investigation and on the other a reactive task-focused outlook. Put simply, many of the barriers to the successful implementation of the NIM have their roots deep in the histories of British policing and detective work that I have outlined in this chapter. 130 Chapter 5 - The Emergence of the NIM Introduction This chapter explains the emergence of the NIM from the policing milieu described in the previous chapters. It traces the development of ILP strategies in Kent in the 1990s, which presaged the emergence and development of Phillips’ policing models. It explains how the NIM emerged, how it was meant to be implemented, and how something generated within a single police force came to be endorsed by the wider police service and codified by the Home Office as the model for operational policing in England and Wales in the modern era. I examine that policymaking process through the lens of Kingdon’s (1995) ‘Agenda Setting’ approach which highlights the role of the ‘policy entrepreneur’. I argue it was Phillips’ policy entrepreneurship that allowed him, at least on the surface, to engineer a ‘whole service’ solution to the policing problems of the modern era. David Phillips’ Influence on Policing in Kent One of the pioneering forces in the development of proactive policing strategies in Britain was the Kent County Constabulary (now Kent Police) where it is popularly believed that ILP in the mainstream began in the early 1990s (see for example Tilley, 2008). In 1993, Phillips, the Chief Constable of that force introduced the KPM, a “holistic” system of ILP that he claimed would revolutionise the delivery of operational policing in Britain (Maguire, 2008: 455). He then went on significantly to influence investigative policy throughout England and Wales through his sponsorship of the NIM. The driving force behind both projects, Phillips wanted alternatives to the reactive policing styles that had dominated policing since the failed experiment of UBP in the 1960s. He wanted particularly to break what the Audit Commission (1993: 40) described as the “vicious circle of reactive policing” in which crime threatened to overwhelm the police and criminal justice systems. An ACPO member who played a key role in the NIM (N03) said that ACPO agreed that there was a clear need at the beginning of the 1990s to 131 move the police organisation from an entrenched reactive position “to get it into a position where it started to focus its efforts… on those people who were causing the most problems”. The challenge was to focus the investigative effort in a smarter, more proactive way. This was considered by some to be revolutionary but in reality it simply mirrored debates within the Dixon Committee some 60 years earlier. Tilley (2003: 313) described Phillips’ KPM as “the most extensive and influential” ILP project demonstrated across England and Wales in that period. I will argue that the KPM signalled an important development in policing at the end of the twentieth century. In terms of its influence on proactive policing in England and Wales, it was not surpassed until the implementation of its direct descendent, the NIM, at the beginning of this new century. Maguire and John (1995, cited in Maguire, 2008) have argued that although many forces in England adopted some of the tools that could have helped them implement ILP strategies in that period, very few undertook the significant level of reorganisation that could produce a “genuinely integrated system”. Phillips’ priority for his models was that they should manage police business more effectively. Intelligence work should be focused on outcomes. Crime would be reduced by reinforcing discrete areas of policing activity. That is, in ways that Phillips believed would have the greatest impact on the general level of crime (Phillips, 2006). It is clear that like other innovators in that period (such as Bratton in New York City) Phillips was influenced by right realists such as Wilson and Kelling and by structural changes in policing in the United States (particularly Bratton’s COMPSTAT experiment). The NCIS senior executive (N02), Phillips’ chief aide in the development of the KPM and the NIM, said that whatever the influences upon Phillips “The police service owes him a great debt for overturning or freeing it from the shackles of the opportunistic approach to police business”. Though I would argue that praise for Phillips should be qualified. In fact, the NIM process largely mirrors the ‘intelligence cycle’ described by Baumber (ACPO, 1975; see Figure 1). Phillips’ power and influence certainly were key 132 factors in driving forward both models but there was little that was truly new about his intelligence models). Kent’s Crime Management Model In 1993, Phillips established the ‘Force Intelligence Review Team’ (FIRT) with a brief to formulate an ILP strategy for the Kent force. The team subsequently produced the ‘Force Intelligence Review’ which established the framework for the KPM (Anderson, 1997). The NCIS senior executive (N02) was an ally of Phillips in that period and he became a significant figure in the development of Phillips’ ILP models. He was responsible for coordinating the work of the FIRT and translating Phillips’ plans into documented strategies. In interview, the senior executive said that FIRT members shared Phillips’ vision. He suggested (albeit with a degree of levity) that in Kent in this period, crisis management was the norm. He said “We just used to sit around and wait for the wheels to fall off and then [when they fell off] hid all the bits of paper that talked about wheels falling off”. The NCIS senior executive (N02) said that Phillips and the FIRT shared a realisation that the force was “running faster and working longer hours to achieve less” and a collective view was that a complete overhaul of the way in which the force conducted its business was required. The result was the KPM, later described by HMIC as “an intelligence-led, proactive, problem solving approach to policing with crime reduction as its primary objective” (HMIC, 1995: 1). In my view, the NCIS senior executive’s plans for ILP in Kent must have been influenced by his experiences in Europe, particularly his work in the Netherlands where he had spent four and a half years as a liaison officer, and where he found that much more attention was being given to crime mapping and the emerging science of crime analysis. It is worthy of note that just as with UBP in the 1960s; innovative strategies that were used in the Netherlands seem to have informed the development of policing practice in Britain. The FIRT team’s work was presaged on the assumption that policing practice and policy in 133 the county needed to be less reactive; its efforts needed to produce a vision of a more promising alternative. Therefore, the KPM was founded on two principles. The first, acknowledging the findings of the Audit Commission (1993), was that most offences were committed by a very few, known, offenders. The second, that identifying offending patterns required a strategic direction that relied on the “increasing specialisation of the work force” (FIRT, 1998: 3). The NCIS senior executive (N02) said that he had previously tried (and failed) to implement changes that would move the force away from the traditional reactive model. He said that his attempts foundered, partly because of the kinds of resistance to changing the CID that I explored earlier, and partly because of the competition for the scarce tactical resources that he needed to respond to the emerging threats his intelligence work identified. He said: I was threatened with death by the CID for trying to change things… It was a frightful period. They absolutely hated me because I’d been one of them and was seen as a renegade and a traitor but I’d tried something like this in 1983… when I was the DCI in East Kent. I’d just got sick of the fact that we couldn’t deal with serious crime…. I tried to hack out a deal with our surveillance unit that we would try to put a targeting regime in place across the divisions… In the end, it foundered on the predictable number of murders that they were trying [to cope with]. They were the first deployable assets to any murder scene. You couldn’t argue with the CID about the reactive requirements for murders. The NCIS senior executive (N02) said that the police needed to become more proactive in their approach to policing problems. He felt that the problems were rooted in the service’s history and culture and essentially were of their own making. In his view: The tradition [was] all about opportunity; demand and opportunity. You look back over the years – the cops go around waiting for the next disaster to strike, the next call, or the next incident. All their effort and careful consideration and planning, insofar as they do it, and in some places to be fair they have been quite good at it – is about how you manage events better once the event has occurred. Without actually using the phrase ‘problem-oriented policing’ or referring directly to Herman Goldstein’s (1979) work, he captured the essence of Goldstein’s ideas to 134 improve the operations of police agencies in providing an example of the way in which the police failed to address the issue of horses wandering onto the A2 - a busy trunk route running between south-east London and the Kent coast. He said: I remember standing there at 3 o’clock in the morning with bits of horse all over the carriageway, cars all over the place, arguing with the Met about where the boundary was. Half a dozen horses had been killed, people had been injured, cars were all over the shop and the road’s closed and it’s chaos. Just out of interest one of the things I was recently looking for was information on the ‘gypsies’ horses A2 issue’ and guess what … they still get gypsies’ horses on the A2 but they’ve got an absolutely shit hot response for it. On the shelf is the battle plan for gypsies’ horses on the A2. The question you ask of course is ‘Where’s the plan for stopping the horses getting on the A2 in the first place’? There wasn’t one. In 30 years, they’d learnt nothing about prevention. They’d learned a hell of a lot about how best, and quickest, and most safely, you could respond to these incidents - but they hadn’t solved the problem. The NCIS senior executive (N02) said that Kent CID’s response seemed to typify the police mentality at that time which was essentially about getting better at dealing with “those things that come at us from all directions”. He said that “trying to get out there and find out which way they’re likely to come from is not something that the cops ever devoted much time to”. The FIRT (1998: 1-2) also identified that police intelligence systems of the period were not configured in a way that readily could support problem solving approaches. Instead, they tended to be “passive, recording inputs [and] acting as a reserve bank of information”. The review team’s aim therefore, was to create a model that was based upon “cyclical and analytical approaches” that might manage the demand upon the force’s services and would enable the force to switch “more effort into planned operations and away from response deployment”. According to the NCIS senior executive (N02), law enforcement needed something comparable to British Defence Doctrine (described by the Ministry of Defence, 2008: 1, as a “pragmatic basis for action, decision and reflection” that recognised and delineated the contributions of “individual initiative, enterprise and imagination”). He argued that British policing needed something in the same vein that imposed a new set of disciplines on the police service and that would standardise policing responses. The KPM (and thereafter the 135 NIM) was to provide the solution. Though it was not acknowledged by any respondent in this study, the FIRT’s starting point seems to have been the British military intelligence model. Certainly, Herman (1996: 350) has argued that the new coordinating structure for intelligence work that was being advocated by “professional policemen” in that period was “an almost exact replica of the JIC model as it evolved in the Second World War and after”.22 The NCIS senior executive (N02) said that his aim was to establish what worked (or at least what can work in a modern democratic society). The team found that: “in one place it was target selection; in another, focusing on prolific offenders; in another, it was linking series of crimes; in another, it was ‘hot spotting’; and in another, it was through the use of preventatitive measures”. However, each of the measures was “short-lived”. The senior executive felt that if it was possible to link the different strategies together into a longer- term plan, the force would be able to reduce crime over extended periods. A former detective superintendent (N051) who was a member of that team said that it proved difficult to persuade frontline officers of the utility of these approaches because it was “not the sexy side of the business” albeit that, as I argued earlier, the underpinning philosophy of the new arrangements explicitly was crime control. The architects of the KPM acknowledged that response (or reactive) policing would continue to feature heavily in the mainstream. However, they hoped that the new strategies would lead to the implementation of a new management system that might reduce the demand for its services. In turn, that would break the force out of the response mode which took up all of its operational resources, and prevented the development of longer-term problem solving (and intelligence-led) responses (FIRT, 1998). They anticipated that the KPM would allow Kent the space to create an operational reserve not routinely committed to reactive policing. As a result, operational commanders would have more flexibility in the way they approached policing problems. This would provide them with the capacity to 22 The Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) emerged during the Second World War for the purpose of bringing “greater rationality into bitter strategic debate” (Omand, 2005). The committee continues to sit and is made up of senior officials from across Government as well as intelligence professionals. 136 resource the longer-term problem-solving measures that FIRT members had identified. The first stage in this process was the introduction of a new Crime Management Model (CMM). When the CMM was launched, new crime and incident desks were introduced. Their purpose was to screen incoming telephone enquiries from the public, to establish those which required police attendance. Calls that did not require attendance would be dealt with quickly and efficiently by telephone so that the force’s scarce operational resources could be directed to those that really required attendance (FIRT, 1998). The CMM was the key to establishing the “tactical capability” that hitherto had been lacking (FIRT, 1998: 4). In practice the system allowed the force to manage demand but, for the NCIS senior executive (N02), it simply did not go far enough. He explained: We’d got all these crime management units trying desperately to manage more out of the system rather than deal with it - manage it out of the system… to find ever more sophisticated reasons for not dealing with it. Now that would have been OK if behind it they’d put in heaps of analysis to enable you to say – well actually all those 96 incidents, we can treat them as one incident rather than 96 separate ones but they weren’t really doing all that. According to the NCIS senior executive (N02), the major problem in that context was the force’s CID which controlled the crime management units. In his view the department had become “hidebound” and were locked into “old reactive investigative concepts”. Therefore, the solution was to take the units away from the CID and at the same time supplement them with the analytical capability that was lacking. This suggests that the division between the CID and the uniformed branch had still not been tackled effectively and it was still a major obstacle to intelligence-led proactive policing in the mainstream. Kent Police Model Phillips approved development of the intelligence, investigative and analytical capacities of the CMM which soon evolved into the KPM. That development included plans to ensure that the force had sufficient specialists; officers and staff who had received a high degree of training to equip them for their new roles (FIRT, 1998). Indeed, the success of the KPM 137 depended on the increasing specialisation of the force (Amey et al, 1996). The FIRT (1998) anticipated that new ‘Crime Scene Units’ would receive forensic training to enable staff to identify linked crime scenes and to gather evidence to identify offenders. New, ‘Area Crime Units’ would deal with less serious crimes where there were ‘promising’ lines of enquiry while ‘Tactical CID Teams’ would replace the specialist detective units and work upon serious cases where greater investigative expertise was required. ‘Case Investigation Teams’ would continue the investigation once an arrested person arrived at the police station. The foundation of the new structure would be the new ‘Intelligence Unit’. Headed by an Inspector as intelligence coordinator, the purpose of the unit was to provide local commanders with short, medium and long term intelligence forecasts. To accomplish this purpose, units were to be made up of source coordinators (informant handlers), technical officers (to carry out covert observations etc.) and field intelligence officers whose key function was to maintain the informant strategy (i.e., to recruit informers to fill identified intelligence gaps) and to develop intelligence packages for tactical officers and, following the Dutch example, crime analysts (FIRT, 1998: 6). What is obvious from these plans is that there was to be only a very limited role for the ‘hidebound’ CID which had blocked the FIRT’s early plans for ILP in Kent and which, through its continuing attachment to traditional practice had limited the success of the CMM. Essentially, the CID was excluded from intelligence work and its officers were very much in the minority in the new units which reported directly to BCU commanders (through the intelligence manager) rather than to CID managers. I argue that although this allowed Phillips to overcome the CID’s resistance to his plans, it also suggests that the units were not able to draw upon the whole range of detectives’ skills and experience in intelligence work in the mainstream. Phillips intended that the new intelligence staff would use the tools and techniques of intelligence work that were not routinely trained in any force and previously were 138 usually used only by specialist detective units (see Table 1). 23 Given that the lack of sufficient or appropriate training for intelligence unit staff has been a feature of most analyses of intelligence work in the last fifteen years (see for example Maguire and John, 1995; Gill, 2000; Sheptycki, 2004), the development of the force’s staff in this way was perhaps the most ground breaking of all Phillips’ plans. Whilst the sidelining of the CID from intelligence work in the mainstream set a precedent. I argue that the decision (not least because the same decision was then taken by most senior commanders in the UK) had a significantly detrimental impact on operational policing in the mainstream. The architects of the KPM claimed to recognise the fundamental importance of community intelligence in policing. The FIRT (1998) argued that the KPM afforded an opportunity for improved community relations which in turn might contribute to improved intelligence flows from the community. In interview, the NCIS senior executive (N02) explained the FIRT team recognised that “Actually, you do not build intelligence from the top down; you build it from the bottom up. You’ve got to have those flows from the bottom or you’re not in business”. Formalised police/community partnerships were still some years away so perhaps it is unsurprising that the emphasis in the KPM was on finding local people who could help the police achieve their aims. 24 However, the executive’s words highlight just how little progress the police service had made in this context in the 17 years since John Alderson wrote his seminal work on community policing, Policing Freedom... The KPM emphasised a two-pronged approach by the police. Local officers should be in regular communication with “as many local institutions as is possible, in particular, town and parish councils”, while uniformed officers should patrol particular localities such as problem housing estates or town centres (what have come to be known as crime ‘hot- spots’) to provide a visible presence, to sustain local contacts and to support local volunteers (such as special constables and neighbourhood or business watch schemes). The FIRT (1998: 7) considered that the KPM was primarily relevant to BCUs “because that’s 23 Nor was this common currency in any other force in England and Wales. Police informant handling in this period had come in for particular criticism (see Dunninghan and Norris (1998) and Cooper and Murphy (1995). 24 Police/community partnerships were formalised by the Crime and Disorder Act, 1998. 139 the focus of the business”. It recognised that there was a need to establish a process to coordinate the affairs of these different groups and thus the phrase “tasking and coordinating” entered the policing lexicon. In interview, the NCIS senior executive (N02) explained that: We put in place the principles of the intelligence units providing the fundamental information, which enables strategic planning, and tactical decision-making. We put in place the decision-making process in the tasking and coordinating arrangements and specified for them the tactical options. The KPM was piloted in the Thanet BCU. Thanet (which includes the towns of Margate, Broadstairs and Ramsgate) is a holiday centre; its population of about 123,000 increases in the summer months and both public order and crime problems increase as a consequence. In 1993, the police recorded 15,108 crimes. The range of offences recorded is typical of many towns with the figures usually dominated by the offence of burglary though drug offences and credit card fraud also were problems (Amey et al, 1996). The ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) said that Phillips accepted the FIRT’s plans and completely restructured the BCU. Over a 12-month period, “key roles of intelligence management, tasking and coordination, operational review and analysis were created”. Phillips’ reorganisation was intended to produce the tactical capability that enabled the intelligence to be worked through effectively. A former Kent detective superintendent (N051) said that initially the CID resisted the KPM in Thanet but that this was easily overcome by appointing one of the FIRT members as intelligence manager. The ACPO member (N03) said that because Phillips’ passion was intelligence he recruited into the intelligence world only officers “who were the brightest of the bunch” (I argue that this was consistent with practice in military intelligence and the security services and it is a policy that should be pursued much more rigorously in mainstream policing). Phillips said that officers would not be promoted to a chief inspector post in any part of the county unless they had been an intelligence manager for at least 15 months. Even though that gave rise to some succession planning and stability issues it made command teams particularly aware “peculiarly aware”, of intelligence issues. An intelligence career path was created so that 140 officers could progress through the ranks to the DOI role. Intelligence posts also attracted additional competency-related payments. Amey et al (1996) noted that the BCU’s resources were realigned exactly according to the KPM ideal. This was a significant commitment by Phillips and his force executive. However, the former Kent detective superintendent (N051) said that Phillips left little to chance. The Thanet BCU was “self-contained” with few notable policing problems and a community that fully supported the police. Thus, it was a safe choice for Phillips. In the former superintendent’s view, “if the KPM could not succeed there it could not succeed anywhere”. The ACPO member (N03) explained that as a result of implementation there was a significant reduction in crime in Thanet. “The figures were dramatic for reductions in those four key areas [of robbery, auto crime, burglary and drugs]. Dramatic, you’re talking in certainly some areas of reductions of crime of 50% and it was very impressive”. However, he conceded that it proved difficult to relate that success to the new model alone as the FIRT made no attempt to separate out and evaluate its discrete elements: Was it the introduction of models and intelligence and the use of human sources, a dedicated source unit as it is now known, or was it the extra patrolling of certain staff? That was never fully [explained] but the bottom line was not too much else had changed and this had dramatically [improved performance]. KPM Roll-Out Amey et al (1996) attempted to evaluate the success of the CMM in four areas: the extent to which it delivered a reduction in reported crime; whether it was capable of ensuring the efficient and effective deployment of available resources; levels of victim satisfaction; and police job satisfaction. In terms of crime reduction, the results were equivocal. The ability of the CMM to reduce crime was “not proven” (Amey et al, 1996). Significantly, Amey et al’s (1996: 33) research highlighted that the CMM was “designed to reduce the levels of those crimes which the force prioritises (those were: robbery, auto crime, burglary and 141 drugs and not [to reduce] crime in general”. This is an important issue that is equally relevant today. As I argue in later chapters, the tension between priority crime (routinely measured by the Home Office) and other, relatively minor, crimes that may be of great concern to communities but are not measured in the same way, became a key concern for BCU commanders operating in the NIM environment. Amey et al (1996: 33) found that in terms both of victim satisfaction and police job satisfaction, the CMM had made an important contribution to Phillips’ aims of managing the demand for policing services and creating a tactical capability by showing that it was “possible to free resources to be used in a proactive and productive fashion… [without] a noticeable decline in levels of public satisfaction with policing”. Staff enthusiastically welcomed the challenges that the new systems brought and, with only with a few exceptions, “perceived their roles to be more constructive and fulfilling” than under the ‘old’ system of working. The NCIS senior executive (N02) said that as the KPM was rolled out across the county, performance data indicated that crime levels in BCUs were falling. However, it was difficult to explain the reasons for that success. He conducted his own research, visiting each BCU in turn to assess the results for himself. He felt that the success of the model was dependent on more effective intelligence-led responses by officers, though the tactics employed in each BCU varied dramatically ranging from “the targeting thing of offenders who are disproportionately responsible for volumes of crime… to connecting up series… to ‘hotspot’ management”. The former detective superintendent (N051) said that the new tactics had some success but that each of them was short-lived. FIRT members gave a great deal of thought to linking those discrete measures together into a longer-term plan with the aim of reducing crime over a sustained period. However, he acknowledged that this task would be very difficult. In interview, the NCIS senior executive (N02) argued that the strategies he had observed were based on “practical experience and proven crime reduction in Kent”; the same strategies were capable of reducing crime across the board in England and Wales. 142 Following the successful pilot of the KPM in 1994, county-wide implementation of the model took place in 1995 (Anderson, 1997). Implementation was accompanied by a programme of investment in information technology systems. Amey et al (1996: 30) noted that the KPM’s introduction coincided with the beginning of a major upgrading of IT systems. The result, in 1995 was a slight decrease in performance (crime up by 1.3%)… [However] considering the scale of the changes, that performance itself is now viewed as an achievement... Total crime in 1996 fell by 6.5% to 143,000 offences and in 1997, it fell by 16.3% to 119,000. There were “inherent problems” in using the pilot sites as justification for a force- wide roll out of the model (HMIC, 1995: 5). The Thanet experiment was “unscientific” in the sense that there was no control site against which to measure developments, and it proved impossible to prevent other Kent Police areas from adopting their own versions of the model (HMIC, 1995: 5) (which, it may be argued, given Phillips’ commitment to the KPM, was surprising and was certainly worthy of further analysis). It also was considered that the timescale for the evaluation was too short to be conclusive “given the scale of the change and the focus on crime reduction” (HMIC, 1995: 5). HMIC fully supported Phillips’ decision to establish the model force-wide. In its view the risks involved were “understood properly” and were “being managed effectively” (HMIC, 1995: 5). However, the decision to roll out the KPM was not based on any meaningful data. The ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) said (in a statement reminiscent of Weatheritt’s comments on the implementation of UBP that “there was no academic evaluation of the KPM or any consideration of any other external driver that might have been an influence”. Instead, implementation was based on little more than Phillips’ unshakeable belief in the model. The implementation of UBP and the KPM are just two events in the long history of policing. Nevertheless, they are noteworthy in the context of this study because they reveal a willingness on the part of police commanders to commit significant resources on the basis of scant information. Subsequently, HMIC commended Phillips for providing “a clear sense of direction to the force through the KPM” and commented that the work that was 143 being carried out in Kent was “deserving of success… timely and has a significance which extends well beyond Kent to the police service nationally” (HMIC, 1995: 7). However, it conceded that there “was an element of calculated risk” in reaching that decision (HMIC, 1995: 7). The NIM HMIC’s (1997) thematic inspection on good practice in ILP, discussed earlier, was critical of the police national intelligence structure and called for an improved intelligence effort but it was complimentary about the changes that Phillips was effecting in Kent. It was clear that HMIC and ACPO shared a common vision of integrating an intelligence-led approach within the culture of all forces (HMIC, 1997). The putative success of the KPM persuaded Phillips that it could provide a template for ILP across Britain. An ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) said that Phillips persuaded his peers to develop the KPM to be “a national model that everybody would buy into”. In 1998, ACPO and NCIS agreed that the NCIS senior executive (N02) would join NCIS to develop the new national model. Mindful of the need to make the model acceptable to all, one of Phillips’ first steps was to rebrand the KPM and thus the NIM was born. In 1999, it was announced to the service in the ‘the Blue Book’ (NCIS, 1999). In interview, the ACPO member (crime policy) (N01) said that Phillips used his position as ACPO crime business area chair and then as President of the Association, to market the NIM. In April 1999, the ACPO member (N01) was appointed chief constable of an English force. He said he immediately implemented Phillips’ model because he wanted his force to be one of the leaders in intelligence management. He persuaded his police authority to spend £2.3 million “to put in resources and change the way we did our business” to accomplish that aim. 144 The ACPO member (N01) was completely committed to the NIM. He surmounted the resistance of others in his force by confronting those who had little enthusiasm for the model and by asserting his authority in much the same way as Phillips had done in Kent. He appointed a NIM ‘champion’ and forcefully instructed his senior commanders to support him. The reader will see later that this was just the kind of action that was necessary to overcome the orthodoxy and tradition associated with police organisational culture. However, the reader will also see that this was a course that few other ACPO members were willing to follow. In September 2000, ACPO met the Home Secretary Jack Straw at Lancaster House in London to discuss police reform. Interviewed in 2005, the NCIS senior executive (N02) recalled that at that meeting, Phillips put forward the NIM as a police response to the Government’s Police Reform agenda. However, two other ACPO members (N03 and N06) said that Phillips was not speaking for the Association as a whole, which remained divided. There was a significant section that believed that the NIM belonged to NCIS. That it was suitable for dealing with international or organised crime but not something that the wider police service needed. The ACPO member (crime policy) (N01) said that even amongst those who were implementing NIM there was wide variation in practice: What I was finding was that... we were all doing it differently. So there was no national interpretation, no singular (sic) interpretation, of what a tasking meeting looked like or [what] a strategic assessment was or what it looked like. The ACPO member (intelligence) (N06) said that despite the resistance of some members, Phillips succeeded in ‘selling’ the model to the Home Office. Despite members’ reservations, Ministers wanted the NIM for British policing. The ACPO member (crime policy) (N01) said that in early 2001, he assumed a key policy role in ACPO. He used that role to encourage other members setting about the task with enthusiasm; “convincing, explaining, and persuading people that they should buy into” the NIM. He agreed an implementation timetable with officials at the Home Office’s Police Reform Unit who, like Phillips, were frustrated at the slow take-up of the model. 145 A Home Office official (N013) said that the department’s view of implementation in that period was that “the picture was mixed”. However, it was satisfied that the top down approach that had been adopted by ACPO (targeting ACPO leads and champions) was “bearing fruit” and it was content that the policy should be continued. The ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) said that his perception of that period was somewhat different. Though some forces were implementing the model, the police service was “missing a trick” because ACPO was not driving it, “it was under-resourced [and] there were no standards. He said (as I argue later, rather presciently) that his opinion was that implementation was “doomed to fail” unless more support was forthcoming from chief officers. The ACPO member (intelligence) (N06) recalled that Phillips who “was getting a bit concerned about the rather flaky implementation” expressed those concerns in ACPO council. He said there was an obvious need to “grip it a bit more”. Phillips pushed ACPO hard to accept his plans. Assuming the presidency of the Association in 2001 allowed him to redouble his efforts. The ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) said that in 2002 he attended a presentation on the NIM to the ACPO council. The resolution to support the model was approved without any meaningful challenge. An ACPO member (N06) said that this was a key period in the development of the NIM. He said that NCIS received £7-8 million which enabled it to maintain the NIM team on a full-time basis. He said that the team’s focus was on proactively contacting individual chiefs “knocking on a few doors” to drive home the key messages of ILP to forces. To assess progress, the ACPO member (crime policy) (N01) commissioned a baseline assessment of implementation to be carried out by the NIM team. It visited every force in England and Wales to inspect progress towards compliance. I have already questioned the notion of aiming for mere ‘compliance’. In this context, it is the goal that organisations aspire to in their efforts to ensure that staff acknowledge and comply with relevant rules. Referring to the seeming inability of police organisations to move beyond such limited aims, Goldstein (1979, 393) argued that even 146 when the police achieve what they consider to be a sufficiently high level of “operating efficiency” they seem unable to shift their focus to “the end results” of their efforts. He noted: The police seem to have reached a plateau at which the highest objective to which they aspire is administrative competence. And, with some scattered exceptions, they seem reluctant to move beyond this plateau – toward creating a more systematic concern for the end product of their efforts. Goldstein was writing about US police agencies more than a decade before the NIM was introduced in Britain. However, that argument is just as relevant in the context of British policing in the twenty-first century. A senior intelligence official (N050) also was disdainful of the police service’s lack of ambition in this regard. In her view, NIM compliance was “farcical”; policing should be measured against the desired outcomes of a process not according to the degree of compliance with that process. I will argue later that the efforts of the NIM’s supporters to claim any successes for the NIM have foundered on the absence of any meaningful evaluation of outcomes. Even where it can be claimed that NIM compliance has been achieved it has proved impossible to link that compliance to positive outcomes. The ACPO member (crime policy) (N01) said that the baseline assessment showed that the gap between the six forces that he had previously assessed as having embraced the model and the 18 “hardest to reach” forces, had not closed. In other words, even that limited aim of administrative compliance was not being achieved. The Home Office was disappointed with the assessment but against a promise from the ACPO member (N01) that the Association would put its house in order, the Home Secretary (David Blunkett) agreed that he would “pull back a bit” from forcing ACPO to accept the model, which perhaps suggests that he and Phillips had established an alliance to see the NIM through. A former ACPO member (N04) said that Phillips’ success should be attributed to the “disproportionate power and influence” the ACPO Presidency gave him and to his having the ear of a receptive David Blunkett and New Labour “who were so desperate for answers - that they would drive through in a 'kick ass' fashion - on what they saw as a recalcitrant and underperforming police service”. 147 The ACPO member (N01) said that he committed the Association to full implementation by 1st April 2004. He persuaded Phillips to write to chief officers individually, “It wasn’t difficult!” demanding they describe the progress they had made in their force. He said: I got David Phillips to sign these letters – Dear, (personalised) your force has been visited by the baseline assessment team and we find the following. You will need to do… if you are going to be ready by the 1st April. There were… two chiefs when they got the letters they were straight on the phone… Various colleagues went out, talked to them and talked to their teams and they squirreled around and started getting things done… Everyone then started to move towards April. The ACPO member (intelligence) (N06) said that the key was finding common ground between members who supported Phillips’ crime control agenda and those committed to what I have called a ‘preventative’ proactive approach. He said that ACPO wanted “to avoid the argument between the David Phillips’ extreme enforcement position and the community policing people”. He recalled that one way in which this was achieved was by emphasising shared interests and common values and maintaining focus “on the 75 percent that both sides had in common and not worrying too much about the wings”. He said that ACPO’s own research suggested that the NIM team’s ‘diplomacy’ in not issuing prescriptive guidelines to forces was problematic. Members needed greater clarity about what ACPO required of them. Therefore, a decision was made to issue members a set of minimum standards so that they could see what full compliance “looked like”. The ACPO member (crime policy) (N01) suggested that together, the publication of the baseline assessment, the new NIM minimum standards and the ACPO President’s letter resulted in a new synergy in the efforts of ACPO, forces and the Home Office to deliver on the implementation plan. He said: I think that’s why it caught the imagination of a lot of us. I mean cops and Home Office and others because for the first time there was something really practical that we could implement that would demonstrably make a difference. We could actually say that if we gather intelligence, set out the priorities, we then [could] put our resources behind those priorities. 148 It was in this period that John and Maguire (2004) carried out their evaluation of the model. Commissioned by the Home Office, the researchers visited a total of 25 BCUs across three forces (Lancashire, Surrey and the West Midlands). They observed NIM meetings, examined intelligence assessments and interviewed intelligence analysts. The researchers also interviewed members of the NIM team and used its assessments of the implementation process to contextualise their own findings. They found that forces were making progress towards implementation of the model but there remained significant failings which had still to be addressed. Those were: that the commitment of local commanders was inadequate; there was limited input from partners; consultative meetings were dominated by conflicts over competing priorities and concerns about performance; there was a lack of appropriate training; there were large ‘knowledge gaps’ amongst all ranks, and resistance to the NIM based on ignorance and on dislike of its overly ‘academic’ structure and language. These were significant issues that the researchers hoped would be resolved as the model matured. However, I argue that the number and seriousness of the problems they identified should have persuaded the NIM team to pause and reconsider the plan it was pursuing. It appears that it did not and, as the reader will see later, unresolved at this stage of the implementation process, many of these problems proved to be intractable. The Philosophical Roots of the Model It is worth questioning the model’s philosophical roots and examining exactly what Phillips intended it to achieve. I argue that beyond his interest in and commitment to intelligence work, Phillips (and those who developed the NIM under his leadership) drew on the pre- existing intelligence cycle (see Figure 1), intelligence structures and systems developed in the first half of the twentieth century by British military intelligence and the security services, and each of the new approaches to crime control that emerged in the 1980s that I described earlier. ILP strategies highlighted the importance of Phillips’ passion, intelligence. Community policing and POP strategies pointed to the limitations of public 149 policing and emphasised the key role of partners in solving policing problems. POP also emphasised the importance of intelligence analysis. Just like COMPSTAT in New York city, the NIM sought to empower police commanders to deal effectively with policing problems. Moreover, the NIM ideal was supported by a commitment to best value that was emblematic of the philosophy of new public management that was a feature of government policy in this period. It could reasonably be argued that the NIM represented little more than an eclectic ‘pick’n’mix’ of those pre-existing intelligence models and innovative policing strategies that emerged in the last quarter of the twentieth century. However, a business process that at its core is underpinned by a real commitment to collecting, analysing and evaluating the best available intelligence to produce meaningful outcomes has a compelling logic that would be appealing on both common-sense and business levels at any time. I argue that the NIM was a product of the zeitgeist. In that context, it is easy to see how in a period in which government was proclaiming that “policy making must be soundly based on evidence of what works” (Cabinet Office, 1999), that the NIM would be particularly attractive to policymakers and professionals keen to demonstrate their commitment to that ‘evidence-based’ policy (see Davies, 2004 for further discussion of that subject). The architects of the NIM felt that the extent to which policing activity can ever be planned depends on a diverse array of factors that are far beyond the control of the police. For example, Phillips’ early efforts were aimed at breaking the Kent force out of its ‘response mode’ by implementing a new system of demand management that might mitigate the routine demands made upon it by the public. Kent’s introduction of its Crime Management Model was the first step in that process. ‘Smart’ policing initiatives like the NIM acknowledge that targeting scarce resources efficiently and effectively is key to preventing crime, improving detection rates and protecting victims more effectively. However, as Reiner (2010) has argued, they cannot ‘magically’ solve the problem of crime. The extent to which the demand for policing services can be managed also is questionable. 150 Police work goes far beyond dealing with crime; the police also fulfil the public’s demand for a range of services under the broad headings of order maintenance, social service and service delivery (Brodeur, 2007). Despite the NPM-inspired reforms of the 1990s, as a proportion of the overall requirement for policing services, there is little prospect of that demand being reduced. In interview, an ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) said that whilst the model was simply about “intelligently understanding the threat that you face and policing it accordingly”, the NIM can only influence “proactive planned activity” (emphasis added). In his view, the NIM’s aim therefore was to provide an answer to the question, “How can we police out problems effectively and resource them accordingly in terms of general criminality?” He elaborated by saying “By that I’m talking about drugs, burglary, and auto crime. One thing it can’t do is - it can’t be used in that way for an unplanned spontaneous activity”. In other words, the NIM could never be a factor in those situations that involve “something that ought not to be happening and about which someone had better do something now” (Bittner, 1974: 30), which make up such a large proportion of routine police activity. This is an extremely important point that merits further examination. The comments of the ACPO member (N03) make it clear that despite the public claims that were made for the model’s ability to reduce the overall level of crime, the NIM team felt from the very beginning that the model could provide only a framework for pre-planned policing interventions against those crimes that have come to be described collectively as ‘street crime’. Certainly, the NIM was expected to be no more successful in that context than its predecessor the KPM (see Amey et al, 1996: 33). I argue that this lends weight to my earlier argument that the NIM was inspired by a crime control philosophy rather than one which prioritised community policing and public reassurance. Given the ‘whole service’ nature of plans for the NIM, it was surprising that its architects seemed to take few meaningful steps to ameliorate the divide between the CID and the uniformed branches that I described earlier in this study. I argued earlier that the 151 Kent CID’s antipathy to the plans of the NCIS senior executive (N02) (then a senior officer in Kent) meant that the department remained on the sidelines as the KPM was developed. This seemed to set the pattern for intelligence work in the mainstream thereafter. Certainly, the Kent local intelligence structure (with just a little ‘fine tuning’), set the pattern for the local intelligence units that subsequently emerged to replace collators’ offices across the service. The two case studies carried out in this research confirmed the preponderance of uniformed officers and civilian staff in the new units. In the Urban case, just four out of 40 staff employed in the unit were detectives whilst in the County case there was a single detective, the intelligence manager. Many respondents in this research expressed unhappiness or unease with this situation. I argue that the exclusion of the CID from local intelligence work created and has maintained a skills deficit that has fundamentally undermined the capability of those units and the credibility of their work The NIM ‘Ideal’ Before going on to examine the Home Office’s interest in the NIM, I want to explain the basic structures and processes that Phillips wanted the service to sign up to. The reader will see that at the heart of the NIM lies, what appear to be, a simple set of arrangements that Phillips envisaged would underpin operational policing. Intelligence Collection Force intelligence bureaux (FIB) and local intelligence units should oversee intelligence collection. FIBs usually are controlled by the force’s director of intelligence (DOI) and are staffed by intelligence officers and analysts. Offices vary in size, according to the size of the force and the demands made upon it by regional and national bodies.25 Local intelligence units based on the Kent model replaced the collator offices. They were developed in response to HMIC’s (1997) criticism of intelligence work. Typically, 25 In recent years, a new system of regional intelligence offices has been developed. These units could take responsibility for compiling regional intelligence assessments using the NIM template. However, no such assessments have ever been completed the force level. 152 local units were headed by an intelligence manager of the rank of DI and were staffed by intelligence officers, field intelligence officers, analysts, researchers and briefing officers. Collation, Analysis and Evaluation The key to the NIM’s aim to manage and make sense of the large amounts of information collected by the police is the analyst (NPIA, 2007). There is an extensive literature on intelligence analysis. Some of the better accounts can be found in: Manning (2008 and 2001); Ratcliffe (2008 and 2005); Cope (2008, 2004 and 2003); and in Innes, Fielding and Cope, (2005). A brief description of ‘analysis’ and a synopsis of analytical techniques used by analysts working with the model are included here to explain: their role in the NIM. Analysts collect, review and interpret a range of quantitative and qualitative data “to develop and support recommendations for tactical and/or strategic police activity” (Cope, 2003: 10). Most are police support staff who attend a variety of training courses that teach them the basic tools of their trade (Cope, 2003). The NIM codified existing practice around nine standardised products and techniques (NCPE, 2005). However, not all techniques are equal; the techniques predominantly used by police analysts are: Subject Profiling, Crime Pattern Analysis (CPA) and Network Analysis (Cope, 2003). Manning (2008) argued that the real utility of crime mapping and crime analysis has not been proved. He notes that they owe their popularity to “those aspects of policing most appealing to the police themselves – their capacity to intervene and reduce officially recorded crime (2008: 21). 153 Figure 2 - Example of Crime Pattern Analysis showing vehicle crime ‘hotspots’ (Source – Home Office Police Standards Unit, 2005) Subject profiling is the gathering of all available intelligence on a particular individual. CPA is the spatial analysis of crime patterns. The CPA-type analysis most commonly used is ‘hotspot’ analysis which identifies clusters of crimes or incidents (see Figure 2). Its ultimate aim is to identify the nature and scale of crime trends and patterns, or linked crimes or incidents (NPIA, 2007). Network Analysis assesses links between offenders to identify criminal networks. At the preliminary stage of an operation, the aim often is to persuade commanders that a criminal network exists and/or that some intervention is necessary. However, an intelligence analyst (N084) said that where the investigation is further forward, the aim usually is to identify intervention opportunities. Figure 3 is an example of a network analysis. 154 Figure 3 - Example of a network analysis chart (from Tovek, 2011) All such analyses are of course constructs; analysts’ representation of the social milieu. Analysts can present only a construct. The techniques described here are a feature of investigation in the modern era. However, both Manning (2008) and Gill (2000) have questioned the ‘rationality’ that these that maps and charts purport to deliver. Manning (2008: 244) criticises the attempt at “ritualized control” that crime maps may represent. 155 Whilst, Gill (2000: 10) argues that network analyses can be “over-invested with explanatory power”. Presentation of Evidence/Intelligence Assessments Analyses and other data should be presented in an intelligence assessment. The process begins with a Strategic Assessment, an overview of the policing problems that commanders may anticipate in the following 12 months. They should be prepared by each FIB and BCU. The FIB’s assessment should inform the chief constable. The BCU’s, the BCU commander. Force assessments should aggregate the BCU assessments. Completed every three months, subsequent assessments simply update the original unless the environment changes. The assessments should be discussed at the Strategic Meeting. Tactical Assessments should be completed periodically thereafter (weekly or bi- weekly as directed). They should address only the priorities identified at the strategic meeting thereby ensuring that commanders remain on focus on those problems that have been identified for action. These documented intelligence assessments should enable communities to assess the ability of the police to tackle policing problems in their areas. That is to say, if the intelligence picture remains unchanged then the quality of the assessments and/or the police commander’s decision-making might reasonably be questioned. Strategic meetings should be attended by: the force executive or BCU command team (depending on whether it is a force or BCU meeting); together with resource owners such as the finance director; middle managers; the intelligence manager, the senior analyst and policing partners (particularly those involved in CDRPs) (NCPE, 2006a: 18). The purpose of the meeting is to discuss the strategic assessment and to decide on priorities, adding them to the Control Strategy (the ‘what will be dealt with’ list) or the Intelligence Requirement (the ‘deferred but monitored’ list). The purpose of the tactical meeting is to ensure that the plans made at the strategic meeting are carried through. The meeting should 156 always be chaired by a senior manager. At force level this should be an ACPO member. At BCU level, the BCU commander (NCPE, 2006). Monitoring Identified Problems Prioritisation is the norm. Problems selected for the control strategy are allocated to middle managers who take personal responsibility for them. These Plan Holders should be of inspector or chief inspector rank. Partners should nominate a manager with sufficient control over the resources necessary to see plans through (NCPE, 2006a). The responsibility for monitoring problems lies with the intelligence unit. In the final act of the strategic meeting the commander should issue a set of instructions to that unit requiring it to collect information in support of the control strategy priorities and those other problems included in the intelligence requirement (NCPE, 2006a). This action completes the NIM cycle. Home Office, Policing Policy and the NIM A Home Office official (N013) said that the NIM first came to his attention in 2000. He described the treatment of the model by the Home Office as “a bit schizophrenic”. Officials were unsure about the most appropriate section of the department to handle the model and at one time it was being administered by two directorates. First, the NIM was part of a project in the Organised Crime portfolio then for a period of six months or so it moved over to the Crime Reduction portfolio. The Home Office official (N013) was employed in the Crime Reduction Directorate and represented the Home Office in a number of discussions with ACPO over the future of the NIM. As a result of those talks he believed that the model would “sit better” in the Policing Policy Unit. His recommendation to move the NIM for a second time (to Policing Policy) was agreed in the spring of 2002. He suggested that the transfer of the project from Organised Crime to Policing Policy signalled a change in the department’s attitude to it. He recalled “that certainly was the perception at the time. This was something that was a pretty fundamental overhaul 157 away from reactive policing towards intelligence led policing”. Noting the enthusiasm with which the Home Office embraced the model, the ACPO member (intelligence) (N06) suggested that the NIM was an attractive proposition because it was seen as a rational model that offered the accountability and transparency that previously had been lacking. He considered that though Phillips made some ambitious claims for the model, its principles were generally sound. He said, “I think some of his [Phillips’] people over- egged its claims but they said to Government if you have this you will reduce crime because that is what it’s done in Kent. That was definitely a selling point”. Prior to the attachment of the ACPO member (N03) to the implementation team, the NCIS senior executive (N02) ran the implementation programme from NCIS headquarters. He described an extraordinary meeting there in 2000, with an official from the Policing Policy directorate of the Home Office. This took place soon after Phillips had pitched the NIM to Jack Straw at the Lancaster House conference. He recounted with some amusement: They were looking for some new initiative… I was talking to her [the Home Office official] about the NIM and she said ‘If everybody did it what would the effect be’? I said ‘I reckon if everybody did it we would get a 10% reduction in crime within 2 years probably’… Of course, her eyes lit up – you know, ‘We can tell the Minister we can get a 10% reduction in crime’. So, she said ‘How much would it cost’? I said ‘A rough estimate – looking at what it cost Kent to put intelligence units in place. You’d probably want about £12 million’. She said ‘You can have it’. I fell off the chair!26 Consequently, in a move that echoed the introduction of UBP in the 1960s, and against the background of New Labour’s public commitment to ‘evidence-led policy’ (announced in the 1999 White Paper ‘Modernising government’), with little discussion and with no meaningful evaluation of Phillips’ plans, policing policy was made. The NCIS senior executive (N02) noted that the offer of funding was not followed up immediately. However, it eventually was approved by Charles Clarke who was Minister of State at the 26 Amey et al’s (1996: 33) assertion, based on the only research evidence available at that time, that concluded that the ability of the CMM (and by extension the KPM/NIM) to reduce crime was “not proven” and is only likely to “reduce the levels of those crimes which the force prioritises and not crime in general” seems particularly relevant here. 158 Home Office (1999-2001). By the end of 2001, the £12 million was provided and was soon spent. This initial allocation of funds was dispersed through the ACPO Crime Committee to forces around England and Wales on the basis of their proposals for NIM-compliant processes.27 He said that despite the funding, progress in implementation was “erratic” but the Home Office was sufficiently persuaded of the contribution that the NIM could make to tackling crime that it included in the 2001 White Paper Policing a New Century: a blueprint for reform, an instruction that: All forces will be required to adopt the core elements of the NIM, which sets out a focused approach to gathering and using intelligence. The model has been validated, and it is approved by HMIC as representing best practice in the use of intelligence to fight crime (Home Office, 2001: Ch. 3 sec.9).28 The ACPO member (crime policy) (N01) said that police executives and Home Office officials that he spoke to demonstrated real enthusiasm for the model. Another ACPO member (N06) said that the Home Office liked the NIM because it was a rational model for policing and to that extent Phillips was pushing at an open door and just happened to be in the right place at the right time. The NIM had the twin merits of promising crime reduction and of being inexpensive so it was no surprise that it would be welcomed by the Home Office. However, the extent to which he was the right man in the right place at the right time should not be underestimated. In that context, Phillips should be considered a ‘policy entrepreneur’. The defining characteristics of policy entrepreneurs are their “willingness to invest their resources, time, energy, reputation and sometimes money, in the hope of a future return” (Kingdon, 2003: 122). They are people who seek to initiate “dynamic policy change… through attempting to win support for ideas for policy innovation” (Mintrom 1997 cited in Savage 2007: 129). Invariably, they have a particular expertise, political connections or negotiating skills and they are persistent. In combination with the other qualities described, persistence is “disarmingly important” (Kingdon, 2003: 181). Phillips certainly fitted that bill. 27 The identity of the forces concerned and the amounts that were allocated have been something of a secret but the list is believed to include Lancashire, Surrey and Hertfordshire. 28 This was later codified in the NIM Code of Practice (NCPE, 2005: 2). 159 Mintrom (1997) has argued that policy entrepreneurs promote their ideas by identifying problems, networking with other influential actors in relevant sectors to influence policy debates and by building coalitions of support that advance their causes. Examples can be found in every public policy sector. In the recent history of policing, chief officers such as John Alderson, Kenneth Newman and Peter Imbert are recognised as policy entrepreneurs (and also ‘police entrepreneurs’) who made a significant contribution to the refocusing of policing, reworking the implied contract between police and communities in ways that emphasised partnership working and preventative activity (Savage, 2007). However, the influence of policy entrepreneurs in the development of investigative practice has received relatively little attention. In Phillips’ case, he networked with other significant actors in ACPO and (to a lesser but nonetheless significant extent) HMIC to build a coalition of support for ILP and the NIM. Policy entrepreneurship is an important factor in the formulation of public policy. The organisational environment is another. Cohen et al (1972) advanced the ‘Garbage Can’ model as a means of understanding the policy process in organisations. They argue that in those organisations, people often fail to define their preferences sufficiently clearly, they tend to have only a partial or fragmentary understanding of the organisation’s vision and aims, and they tend to drift in and out of the decision making process. Kingdon (2003: 87) has offered a revised ‘garbage can’ model. In this case, the ‘garbage’ consists of three process streams; “problem recognition, the formation and refining of policy proposals, and politics”. The three streams operate independently of each other but they come together in the policy ‘garbage can’ to create the policy agenda and to determine the character and extent of policy change. Policy is produced when “a problem is recognised, a solution for change is available, the political climate makes the time right for change and the constraints do not prohibit action” (Kingdon, 2003: 88). The policy entrepreneur is often the catalyst for policy change, bringing together the different streams to deliver solutions for ‘receptive’ audiences who often are neither logical nor rational. 160 By this analysis, decision-makers in organisations more often seek problems to which they can apply identified solutions and decision-making bodies function as “a collection of choices looking for problems. Issues and feelings looking for decision situations in which they might be aired, solutions looking for issues to which they might be the answer, and decision-makers looking for work” (Cohen et al, 1972 cited in Kingdon, 2003: 85). Each “choice-opportunity” is a “garbage can into which various kinds of problems and solutions are dumped by participants as they are generated” (Cohen et al, 1972 cited in Kingdon, 2003: 85). The concept of the policy ‘garbage can’ may explain why it was that plans for the development of investigative practice advanced by Phillips (and to a lesser extent Charles Vincent and Robert Mark) that are assessed in this study, were favourably received. Perhaps the success of these ‘policy entrepreneurs’ can be explained in the context of an idea ‘whose time has come’. At the right time and in the right political and social circumstances, an idea may represent an “irresistible movement” sweeping over politics and society that “captures a fundamental reality” about the public policymaking agenda (Kingdon, 2003: 1). An agenda in this context was conceived by Kingdon as a “list of subjects or problems to which governmental officials, and people outside of government closely associated with those officials, are paying serious attention to at any given time” (Kingdon, 2003: 3). From that perspective, solutions are connected to problems and both are connected to “favourable political forces” (Kingdon, 2003: 20). Kingdon (2003: 72) has argued that the combination of these elements is most likely when policy entrepreneurs take advantage of “policy windows” that may have been opened by compelling problems or political imperatives to produce the idea whose time has come (Kingdon 2003). Therefore the prominence of an idea on an agenda relies not on its source nor even on the fact that there may be an entrepreneur encouraging policy change but rather it is the “climate in government or the receptivity of ideas of a given type” that is key (Kingdon, 2003: 72). Kingdon’s ‘institutionalist’ approach has been criticised on the basis that policy processes and systems are more organised than he suggests (see for example Hill, 2009). However, 161 the reader has seen that the policymaking process in the context of the NIM was just as disorganised and haphazard as the process depicted by Kingdon. I argue that Phillips’ policy entrepreneurship was the key factor in the Home Office’s acceptance of the NIM. The policy window was opened by the Home Office’s mounting frustration with the police because of their seeming inability to reduce priority crime (even though the overall level of crime was declining). It calculated that it was politically necessary to do something to improve the situation and it welcomed the NIM as an almost perfect answer because it looked like a cheap option and, backed by ACPO and HMIC, it was unlikely to get Ministers into political trouble. Phillips took full advantage of this opportunity. A Home Office senior official (N065) said that his credibility as an operational leader and his powerful advocacy for the model meant that the case for the NIM was “compelling”. Phillips’ credibility was underpinned by his membership of an increasingly influential ‘policy network’. Policy networks are founded on the principle of cooperation “stemming from shared interests and interdependence that underpins [policy] networks” (Cope, 2001: 1). In this case, the key actors were ACPO and HMIC members and other senior police officers and officials. Certainly, there are examples of the policing network’s success in this context (see for example, Mawby and Wright, 2008). However, reform or change in policing is far more difficult than may be supposed and there have been many occasions when the network has failed to influence public policy. Two recent examples are ACPO’s efforts to prevent government micro-management of policing through its ‘street crimes’ initiative (see Newburn, 2008), and the Police Federation’s inability to influence government to remedy a perceived skills and experience shortage in general CID offices across England and Wales (see Chatterton, 2008 explored later). In the context of this study, a Home Office senior official (N065) was in no doubt about the importance of Phillips’ advocacy of the model. He described Phillips as, “a very powerful ACPO President by the standards of chief officers, very analytical… [who] sounded like he knew what he was talking about, he probably did know what he was 162 talking about”. Phillips’ credibility as an operational leader meant that the NIM was “compelling” to Ministers. He said that the NIM: also sounded logical because it was and is logical… this was by far the clearest example… where ACPO’s own capability drove Government policy… because actually David Phillips talked about the way you processed intelligence, the way in which you develop priorities as a consequence, in ways which were quite helpful to ministers because it wasn’t about ‘We need more money’, it was about, ‘We need to use what we’ve got in a much more effective way’. Thus, the NIM became a plank in the development of policing policy at the beginning of the new century. The Home Office official (N013) said that the department took a calculated risk in embracing something that arrived out of nowhere and said ‘This is the way that police should be doing things’ not ‘This is the way they are doing things’. There’s a big difference between the two”. It was the “synergy” between ACPO and the Home Office that was fundamental to the adoption of the NIM. The senior Home Office official (N065) said that Phillips spoke a language that Ministers could understand and easily accept. Ministers welcomed that Philips was honest; “scathing” about the way the police service did not make the best use of its resources or people. A former ACPO member (N04) said that Phillips was certainly passionate about the NIM and that he became powerful through a “confluence of circumstances” which included the ACPO presidency and New Labour’s search for “silver bullets”, and also the “the rising power base” of the specialist detective units “NCS and NCIS and all things 'central'”. However, the Home Office senior official (N065) was quick to refute the claim that the NIM was yet another attempt to centralise public policing. He said that the model’s appeal was that in a landscape heavily driven by a centralising regime of targets it was police-led, service-owned and was unlikely to get Ministers into political trouble. Particularly when the other service-led initiative of the period, the National Crime Reporting Standard (NCRS) was seen as “a disaster”. 29 The senior official’s words lend weight to Weaver’s 29 The NCRS has been criticised as overly bureaucratic, and inefficient. See for example: http://www.politics.co.uk/opinion-formers/National-Association-of-Retired-Police-Officers/response-to-the- rview-of-policing-$365656$6.htm (retrieved 24/02/2011) and http://www.homeoffice.gov.uk/rds/pdfs2/rdsolr3203intro.pdf (retrieved 24/02/2011). 163 assertion that “politicians are motivated primarily by the desire to avoid blame for unpopular actions rather than by seeking to claim credit for popular ones (1986 cited in Hill, 2009: 164). The senior official (N065) was candid in his assessment of Phillips’ importance in convincing the department to support the model. He said: David Phillips is a very, very effective advocate for it. I’m not saying it’s all about personalities, but I really wouldn’t understate that if David Phillips hadn’t been President of ACPO, if it had been someone there completely different… I don’t think NIM would have got formally adopted in that way. However, the senior official also felt that there were unresolved questions of resources, compliance and outcomes, and whether there was any evidence that NIM- compliant forces performed better than non NIM-compliant forces. He said that his sense at the time was that the model tended to be “far too difficult”, to have “too many variables” but in principle ACPO and the Home Office were in complete agreement. He said that even though the model represented “quite a leap of faith”, he could not think of any other example in that era of “ACPO and the Home Office coming together in quite such a unified way”. He believed in the model as a “good way of managing our business” and that “almost as an inevitable consequence”, it was bound to bring a new focus on achieving more successful outcomes. The senior official’s words suggest that the Home Office recognised the potential of Phillips’ vision for policing and offered the NIM its unqualified support. However, the reader will see later that even at this stage, the police elite’s real support for the NIM did not match its rhetoric. The NCIS senior executive (N02) said that in advance of the publication of the first National Policing Plan (NPP), the Home Office’s increasing interest in the NIM was evident. He said that Home Office Minister of State Charles Clarke spoke at the ACPO conference to “put some beef” behind the model. After Clarke’s address, it was the NCIS senior executive’s turn to explain the NIM. He said that he was not well received. “I said, ‘This is what it’s all about’ and it made the usual impact on ACPO, as you can imagine, ‘Oh yeah, very interesting, thank you’”. However, in his view, the Home Office was more serious about implementing the model than anyone realised because “behind it came the 164 requirement for a plan and an implementation date” (which as the reader saw earlier, the ACPO member (crime policy) (N01) had negotiated ‘behind the scenes’ with the Home Office). In November 2002, the NIM was included in the inaugural NPP presented to Parliament by then Home Secretary David Blunkett (Home Office, 2002). The Home Office official (N013) said that whether or not there was any real evidence that the NIM could deliver any of the improvements that it promised, the Home Secretary considered the model important enough to the future of policing to include it in the first NPP as the changes in police structures and processes that it presaged represented such a “step change” for the police. The ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) said that “There was no other way of conceiving it. It had to be in there. That was from the Home Secretary – it had to be in there”. The NPP promised that the NIM would underpin “ILP at force, cross boundary and national levels” (Home Office, 2002: Para 3.21). According to the Home Office, the NIM already had a “demonstrated ability to improve the collection, analysis and management of police intelligence and the effectiveness of police deployment” (2002: Para 3.21). Though as the reader will see later that point is open to question. Reflecting the agreement between ACPO and the Home Office, the latter was unequivocal in its instruction that “the NIM should be implemented by all forces to commonly accepted minimum standards by April 2004 at the latest (emphasis added)” (2002: Para 3.21). The Home Office official (N013) felt that given the level of investment the Home Office provided for the model there was “no going back”. Whilst the ACPO member (intelligence) (N06) said that “actually any model that allocates resources on the basis of risk, in line with objectives, is a damn sight better that anything we had before… It is a rational model for policing. What did we have before” (emphasis added)? Summary of Analysis 165 Phillips’ vision of setting intelligence work at the heart of proactive policing strategies in mainstream policing inspired the creation of the KPM and later the NIM. CID opposition was brushed aside and intelligence work in the mainstream in Kent came to be dominated by newly trained intelligence workers (often uniformed officers) and, increasingly, civilian support staff. From the outset therefore, the idea that these intelligence models could rely on a ‘whole-service’ response was questionable. Relying on intelligence analysis, the increasing specialisation of the workforce and the adoption of policing tools and techniques that formerly were the preserve of higher policing, the KPM, at least at the level of rhetoric, signalled a clear break with the reactive past. However, Phillips explicitly ‘crime control’ models seem also to have represented a rejection of the kind of preventative proactive activity associated with, for example, community policing initiatives. Phillips and his supporters in Kent were convinced of the utility of the KPM but the evidence that it could deliver the claimed improvements in mainstream policing was questionable. Following the introduction of the KPM, crime fell in Kent. However, even the model’s most ardent supporters were forced to concede that it proved ‘difficult’ to relate the force’s success to the KPM as there was no proper evaluation of the model. Phillips’ policy entrepreneurship and membership of the policing policy network were significant factors in pushing through NIM implementation and ‘selling’ the model to the Home Office. Phillips exploited a policy window to persuade the Home Office to accept the NIM as a model for policing for the UK. Considered capable of supplying a solution to a pressing problem, Phillips’ credibility as an operational leader and his powerful advocacy for the model meant that the case for the NIM was ‘compelling’. The NIM’s time had come. Given the paucity of evidence for the KPM’s success in achieving its stated aim of reducing crime, it is reasonable to question the appeal of its successor, the NIM, to the police and to the Home Office. The NIM’s attractiveness both to senior commanders and to central government may simply have been a product of the zeitgeist. This period was 166 characterised by disillusionment with the police and traditional crime control strategies and a search for alternative approaches to policing and community safety. The NIM appeared to offer the police service (and the Home Office) a more promising future, a means of reasserting its legitimacy as the primary agency of social control even if the evidence that it could do so was equivocal. However, the story of the NIM does not end with its introduction. Following the model’s implementation, the police elite’s hitherto latent resistance to, and resentment of the imposition of the NIM soon became apparent. In the next section of the thesis, I continue the NIM narrative by evaluating the implementation of the NIM in the police forces of England and Wales. 167 Chapter 6 - Evaluating the NIM: Challenges to the Model Introduction This chapter continues the NIM narrative by evaluating its putative implementation in police forces in England and Wales. The chapter highlights ACPO’s inability to coordinate the activities of its fiercely independent membership. It explains Phillips’ diminishing influence on NIM implementation. It also analyses senior commanders’ opposition to his plans for the model. These are important next steps in explaining the NIM because the contrasting ways in which the model was received by senior commanders explains why the NIM took the shape that is revealed in the case studies explored in the following two chapters. ACPO’s Lack of Influence Over its Membership Even though the NIM had been approved by the ACPO council, many members continued to resist the model (ACPO member (intelligence) N06). ACPO’s practice of taking decisions in its council meetings on the basis of what Savage et al (2000) called a ‘presumption in favour of compliance’ was described in the previous chapter. Whilst Savage et al found no evidence that members failed to comply with decisions taken in that way, they noted that the principle of chief officer’s independence was given prominence by the organisation and that it was clear that “chief constables at no stage have to comply with ACPO policy” (2000: 83). The reader will see that the NIM implementation process provides a clear example of a decision taken in principle in council being resisted in practice. Savage et al’s questioning of ACPO’s ability to coordinate the activities of “43 fiercely independent chief constables” when the Association’s sanctions for rule-breaking were so limited, was prescient (2000: 62). Shapland (1988: 189-190) argued that the protection of individual ‘fiefdoms’ in this way is a significant factor in the policymaking process in the criminal justice arena. Criminal justice agencies (including the police) see themselves as individual bodies rather 168 than as parts of an interconnected and efficient system. Those who control fiefdoms jealously guard their independence and workload and will not easily relinquish either, no matter how ‘sensible’ the alternatives that are presented to them. She argued that NPM- inspired reforms aimed at making criminal justice agencies more ‘businesslike’ may actually have encouraged further division and strengthened those areas of control (2000 cited in Crawford, 2001). This phenomenon is not limited to the criminal justice arena. For example, Crawford (2001: 63) argued that similar concerns exist about those whom criminal justice agencies often turn to as partners and the Audit Commission (2000) also highlighted how the activities of departmental fiefdoms restrict local councils’ room for manoeuvre. In the modern era, the line of accountability for Britain’s chief officers undoubtedly has tilted increasingly to the centre, with the result that the Home Office is seen by senior commanders as the most powerful and influential of the central institutions of policing (see for example Reiner, 2010 and Newburn, 2008). Given the obvious strength of that argument, senior commanders’ resistance to the NIM in the face of the department’s codification of the model is surprising. However, in my view, their ambitions for their own forces outweighed their concerns about any sanction from the Home Office for breaching the NIM code (but perhaps explain the ‘veneer’ of compliance that ultimately was applied to the implementation process). Even though Phillips was President of ACPO, he did not outrank any other chief officer and could not direct other chiefs to comply with his plans. Instead, he had to rely on the force of his argument, his powers of persuasion and, his policy entrepreneurship. I argue in this chapter, and in the case studies that follow, that ultimately those were not enough. Challenges to NIM Implementation This section analyses the challenges those who supported the model faced, in gaining support for those changes amongst the ACPO membership and in the policing mainstream as it was rolled out across England and Wales. To Phillips, the NIM was no more than a 169 “profoundly simple set of fundamentals” for policing in England and Wales (Phillips, 2006: 4). However, few others saw the model in those terms. Home Office Performance Targets The NIM highlighted pre-existing tensions between the policing of local crime problems and of national/transnational crimes (such as terrorism) and between the service’s focus on ‘priority’ crimes measured by the Home Office which are particularly significant for BCU commanders and those of greatest concern to local communities. There is some evidence that the NIM encouraged the police to focus on priority crime at the expense of second order criminality. For example, John and Maguire (2004) found that police managers applying NIM principles were putting too great an emphasis on meeting centrally-imposed performance targets (that measured performance against Home Office-proscribed priority crime) and were taking insufficient notice of local concerns. In interview, a former detective inspector (N055) said that he too felt that community concerns were often ignored. He said that in a training session for police executives, he was told by a BCU commander that his NIM strategic intelligence assessment reflected only those problems measured by the Home Office and for which he would receive central funding. The former inspector (N055) said that in the same session, a BCU superintendent confessed to a kind of conspiracy between the police and the local authority to obtain the maximum possible amount of Government cash. He said that the superintendent told him that: He had persuaded his local authority chief executive that, if asked, to reply that his problems are street crime and drugs. He said ‘We all know that the real problem is anti-social behaviour but the Minister has said we’re focusing on street crime so we’re focusing on street crime because that is what will bring us the funding’. A County chief inspector (N029) said that from senior commanders’ perspective, the decision to focus on performance rather than outcomes was a wholly pragmatic one. Commanders who failed to ‘get the job done’ risked their bonus payments from their police 170 authorities. Referring to chief officers’ bonus payments, which hitherto had not been widely reported (though which since has received media attention, including one report that chief officers had received annual bonuses of up to ₤74,000 (O’Neill, 2009), the chief inspector said: The police authority, in negotiating their contracts, sets them a bonus target. The policing plan is about priority crime because it’s about Government objectives and very clear targets to hit… and they are going to receive 10 or £20,000 bonus if they hit certain bits… Their heart might be more in what their bonus targets are about, rather than what the actual people really want. This was not a view expressed by any other respondent in the research but it does add an interesting dimension to the debate. In September 2004, ACPO (2004: 3) felt obliged to admit that a focus on ‘priority’ crime measured by the Home Office (which has come to be associated with the NIM), at the expense of those issues of greatest concern to local communities, meant that neighbourhood policing in many forces was “at best, patchy and under-resourced”. Neither programme was introduced in a policy vacuum and it probably is as simplistic to blame the NIM for the ills of neighbourhood policing as it is to blame neighbourhood policing for the failures of the NIM. However, ACPO’s statement highlights the failure of the Home Office and the police elite to ‘join up’ policing policy in this period. The ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) was concerned that in some BCUs performance had assumed so great an importance that COMPSTAT-type meetings replaced the NIM meetings. He said that too great an emphasis on current performance could undermine the forward planning element of the NIM and that could “directly and singularly influence tactical delivery”. However, he said that he was enough of a realist to understand that performance mattered. He said that: You would be living in ‘cloud cuckoo land’ if you didn’t think that the meeting of targets and performance wasn’t going to drive tactical delivery. However, if that was the only influence on your decision-making around tactical delivery you would be unable to see what is coming up and what’s going to bite you significantly in the future. 171 He felt that nominated individuals should be held to account for their decisions but that process and outcomes should not be confused. He said it would be “pie in the sky, nonsense” to think that performance targets would not affect tactical delivery but balance was essential if longer-term challenges were to be met. A BCU commander (N027) said that in his experience the need to meet performance targets meant that BCU commanders put short-termism before long-term planning. He said that they were always under pressure to “live in a day” because “in the long run you’re all dead. In the short term [performance] is where you’re at”. He felt that this was one of the greatest weaknesses in policing. I argue that ILP (and by extension the NIM) was meant to transform police work, to allow the police to make better use of their intelligence to address policing problems in more cost-effective and efficient ways. However, as the reader can see (and as the later case studies also will demonstrate), performance continued to far outweigh any other consideration. Ideological Resistance Perhaps the most significant of the challenges that confronted the NIM was the intransigence of the police elite. Manning (2008: 163) argued that “attempts to reorient policing to information-based or evidence-based operations implicitly challenges many assumptions about how policing ought to work. The ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) said that chief officers were divided over the NIM from the beginning. Many in the Association did not welcome Phillips’ plans and there was a significant section that saw no role for it in their own forces. Surprisingly, there was even resistance within NCIS where the NIM had been developed. For example in May 2002 at the ACPO annual conference, an NCIS executive argued that the model was “contrived”. The ACPO member (N06) said that criticism of the NIM at that time was “a sin worse than death because this was David Phillips’ baby because it had come out of Kent and it was fantastic (respondent’s emphasis)”. He said that Phillips had “gone bananas” over the NCIS executive’s complaint that the NIM was “over engineered, too complex” and that 172 because of Phillips’ reaction the NCIS official “probably learned to be more guarded in his critique” after that meeting.30 The ACPO member (intelligence) (N06) said that even after the model’s incorporation into the NPP, the implementation process was characterised by resistance and antipathy. In his view, those early attempts to persuade some chief officers to implement the model were frustrated by resistance based on what they perceived to be a competing ideology of policing. Though many chief officers saw the value of making a new commitment to intelligence work, others were more attached to POP and problem-solving and they just could not make the links between those strategies and Phillips’ model. He said that one force which resisted the NIM was Humberside Police which had a “real issue about how it fitted in with their [neighbourhood] policing model… because they believe[d] in Bobbies on the beat in big hats and that intelligence didn’t fit in to all that”. 31 Those words highlight that there were indeed (at least) two ‘camps’ within ACPO; one which supported Phillips’ crime control agenda and another which was committed to policing strategies more closely aligned with multi-agency approaches that sought to address the root causes of crime. Many in the rival camp supported the plans for a ‘neighbourhood policing’ programme and in November 2004, just six months after the NIM was announced in the NPP, the Home Office set out its plans for just such a programme in the White Paper Building Communities: Beating Crime. This was a significant policy document, which set out plans for the ‘democratisation’ of policing, encouraging ‘active cooperation’ rather than the traditional doctrine of policing by consent (McLaughlin, 2007). On one level, that programme could be seen simply as a natural development of the community policing arrangements introduced by the Crime and Disorder Act 1998 (discussed earlier). In the context of this research, it was significant because it suggested that the policy entrepreneurship of Phillips’ rivals in ACPO, although not quite as visible as Phillips’ own, 30 The fact that that same official now holds an elite position with the Serious Organised Crime Agency may explain (at least in part) that agency’s rejection of the model which in itself is revealing. 31 There are some rather obvious implications to be drawn from this statement in the light of the Soham Murders and the Bichard Inquiry Report (2004). 173 may have been equally effective. However it also suggests that, despite the support it had given Phillips, the Home Office did not necessarily understand his plans or share his vision for the NIM. Implementing the neighbourhood policing programme and the NIM at the same time, was bound to be problematic because if a force used the NIM correctly (according to Phillips’ design), it would continually move resources around the force to the areas that its, intelligence assessments indicated, needed them most. Whereas, the underpinning ethos of neighbourhood policing was that community teams remained with their communities no matter what the level of demand elsewhere (effectively, they are ‘ring-fenced’). It is this kind of tension that the ACPO member (N06) acknowledged as existing in Humberside, and which Oakensen et al (2002) identified in many other forces in England and Wales. ACPO (2004a) sought to ‘square the circle’, by recommending that the NIM should be enhanced to embrace partnership and local priorities. In ACPO’s view this could be achieved by integrating “community intelligence and tension monitoring” into NIM intelligence assessments and by emphasising both the police and other agencies’ roles in crime prevention and reduction. That recommendation was incorporated into the 2004 White Paper (which proposed the extension of the neighbourhood policing programme), which included a commitment to use the NIM to target resources against local priorities (Tuffin, 2008). However, the reader will see later that though ACPO wanted the NIM to dovetail into the new neighbourhood programme, it was neither well-enough understood by police or partners, nor was it well-enough established as a policing process to be able to deliver the community focus that was required (see for example, Kleiven, 2006). Deficiencies in the neighbourhood policing programme bear further examination in the context of ACPO’s (2004a: 3) claim that its apparent failing was “a direct consequence of increasing demands and a growing focus on investigation, organised crime and terrorism, protection of the vulnerable and the targeting of prolific offenders”, given that these all are areas that the NIM was also intended to address. In ACPO’s view, the situation could be remedied only if more money was made available to the police service. It explained the 174 service’s inability to establish a sustainable community policing programme in terms of the “Neighbourhood Policing Reinvention Cycle” (see Figure 4) (NCPE, 2004a: 15). This analysis has a certain logic but ACPO brought forward little evidence to support its case. Certainly, in the context of the establishment/disestablishment of detective squads and the ‘whole service’ approach advocated by Phillips, ACPO’s conclusion does not accord either with Morgan et al’s (1996) or Rawlings’ (2006) findings and I argue that much more independent research would be needed to support its claims. Figure 4 - the Neighbourhood Policing Reinvention Cycle (source – NCPE, 2006) It should have been obvious to senior commanders that NIM principles (even if they were implemented faithfully) would contradict some of the fundamentals of neighbourhood policing. Both ACPO and the Home Office should have considered making plans to reduce the tension between the two before the demands on the service implicit in NIM implementation were mandated by the NPP. It was only after this development, when the service’s room for manoeuvre was much more limited, that either ACPO or the Home Office acknowledged a potential conflict (see for example, Home Office, 2006). A former 175 ACPO member (N04) said the implementation of different and obviously competing policy initiatives at the same time simply was not strategic. Phillips’ NIM represented a ‘Big Idea’ for policing in the new millennium. However, what seems clear is that neither the ACPO membership nor the Home Office ever really appreciated what Phillips’ plans involved. During the period of the research, the NIM was not seen by either party as a way of bringing together these disparate strands of policy or as a means of coordinating strategy. As a result, operational policing policy remained fractured and disjointed. The 2004 White Paper demonstrates as much as anything in this research that the Home Office never saw the NIM as the means by which operational policing would be revolutionised. I argue that instead it suggests that like ILP more generally it was just the latest fad that was being ‘bolted-on’ to existing structures” (Gill, 2000: 2). The NIM’s Association with NCIS Earlier, I discussed the attitude of the police service to NCIS. In the light of that discussion it is clear that that the NIM’s subsequent association with NCIS also was a barrier to its acceptance by chief officers. The ACPO member (crime policy) (N01) said that initially, the consensus within the Association was that NCIS was the logical place to complete Phillips’ vision for policing but in hindsight it was the wrong choice. Because of NCIS’s involvement, ACPO members’ associated the NIM only with intelligence gathering. Whereas it was intended to be much more than that; it was intended to be the cornerstone of operational policing in the new millennium. The ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) said that the NIM was not just about intelligence, it was about “much more than that, a grander plan than that”. These are really important statements because they establish the true standard against which the success or otherwise of the NIM, according to Phillips’ plans, should be judged. The ACPO member (N03) went on to say that though NCIS was the national intelligence service it lacked credibility in the eyes of operational police officers: 176 It did not have… the sort of leverage you would expect an intelligence agency to have. That goes back to slightly before 1992 when NCIS was started up. It was going to be all things to everybody and ended up not doing anything like as much as people hoped because there weren’t the funds and resources there. So people always have been disappointed in NCIS. He recalled that this manifested itself in many of the meetings that the NIM implementation team held with force elites: They said ‘You can give us advice and guidance but don’t tell us what to do. You are a national agency. You’re working at level three (national and international crime). This isn’t going to work at level 1 (volume crime). Thanks a lot, leave us alone’. A senior intelligence official (N050) questioned ACPO’s resistance to something which appeared such a “simple and sound model for policing”. She said that confusion stemmed from a lack of clarity about the areas of policing the model was meant to drive, about whether it was an overarching business model or whether it simply was meant to drive proactivity (rather than response or demand based policing) in the mainstream. It is worth noting here that the NIM achieved even less success at the national level; the model effectively was ignored by senior commanders and the high profile national specialist detective agencies. In interview, the NCIS senior executive (N02) said that the Serious and Organised Crime Agency (SOCA), also completely rejected the NIM as a model for its business. The ACPO member (crime policy) (N01) said that the NIM’s identification with the Kent force was a significant factor in member’s resistance to the model. The ACPO member (intelligence) (N06) agreed that the identification of the NIM with Kent meant that some of his peers found it difficult to accept the model into their own forces and problems were exacerbated by the fact that ACPO’s NIM team was slow to recognise the need to translate something intended for an internal audience in Kent, into something that would be acceptable to all the other forces in England and Wales. Though a senior intelligence official (N050) questioned whether the police elite recognised the value of the NIM as an enabler; a process for delivering operational policing strategies (of whatever form) more effectively. She said “It is the whole ethos of the model [that] people don’t get”. 177 The ACPO member (crime policy) (N01) said that perhaps the NIM was presented in too complicated a manner for busy chief officers who at that time were under no obligation to implement the model (or at least under no stronger obligation than was represented by a ‘presumption in favour of compliance’) and who were “busy doing other things”. Some ACPO members’ complied with the NIM more in spirit than in deed (ACPO member N06). The ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) said that believing they could ignore the model without any real sanction; many chief officers did exactly that. A further ACPO member (N053) criticised NCPE doctrine because it was developed in a “rarefied atmosphere” far above the reality of the environment in which people actually had to deliver. In his view, the doctrine developers (including those who added to the extensive library of NIM guidance) had moved so far ahead of the frontline of mainstream policing that “the people who are left can’t understand what then comes out of it”. Doctrine should be about “Let’s make it as simple as possible as opposed to as complicated and detailed as we can”. A former ACPO member (N04) said that the service became so overwhelmed by doctrine that it arrived on his desk “like London buses”. Inadequate Implementation Strategy Skogan (2008: 26) argued that management-inspired programmes must be made relevant for officers in the mainstream and must be underpinned by regulation or they are bound to fail. That involves making otherwise “abstract concepts” into “lists of practical, day-to-day activities enshrined in enforceable orders”. Evaluating the implementation of the NIM against the background of that statement is apposite. The NIM was underpinned by a statutory code of practice inspired by the NPP which in my view represented the kind of ‘enforceable orders’ that Skogan envisaged (and also the “dominant piece of legislation structuring the situation” may help to determine the best research approach described by Sabatier (see Chapter 2, section 2). However, according to the ACPO member (intelligence) (N06) the Association took a conscious decision to use a ‘top-down’ approach to implementation because it lacked the full support 178 of Centrex, the national police training organisation (now part of the NPIA). He and his ACPO colleagues on the NIM project board directed Centrex’s National Specialist Law Enforcement Centre (NSLEC) to deliver training in the model’s process. The ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) said that the Association took a further decision to use NSLEC’s limited resources to take a ‘top-down’ approach, to persuade only senior and middle managers of the model’s benefits. An NSLEC executive (N054) said that this meant that there was no meaningful engagement with the detective force. Indeed the national detective agency, the National Crime Squad, played no part in the NIM’s introduction. The ACPO member (intelligence) (N06) said that as a result of those decisions, NIM implementation was wholly senior management-driven. Goals and objectives were not agreed with senior or middle managers or frontline staff. He said that this caused problems “down the line” in persuading operational staff in the mainstream to accept the new processes required for compliance with the model and that those staff failed to “buy in” to the model’s aims. He said that “We were trying to get people at the top of the organisation to understand [the model’s aims]… Now, that is like anything. You can push for a certain length of time but really you need to be pulling don’t you”? In other words, because there was no process of negotiation with those who were meant to implement the model, the ‘abstract’ concepts of the NIM were never translated into the lists of practical, day-to-day activities that would have meaning for frontline officers. I argue that comparisons may be drawn with the implementation of UBP in the 1960s. In neither case, was the knowledge and expertise of the detective force enlisted appropriately (the specialist detective force, which by most objective analyses would be expected to have the greatest investigative expertise, appears to have played no part in either process) and the goals and objectives that accompanied the new policies were never properly conveyed to frontline staff (see for example, Williamson, 1971 and John and Maguire, 2003). In that sense, the arrangements made for the implementation of the NIM, just as they were for UBP must be considered wholly inadequate. 179 A prime example of that inadequacy was the lack of NIM training provided to frontline staff. In its written evidence to the Select Committee on Home Affairs (29th July, 2004), Centrex blamed its “lack of capacity” for the delivery of intelligence training which it admitted was a “real limitation and a matter of concern” (NCPE, 2004a: 7.3). There was “a pressing need” to provide a range of training for “intelligence specialists” because even though the NIM was “at the heart of police business, the training of intelligence managers, analysts, field operators and assessors [was] piecemeal and inadequate” (NCPE, 2004a: 8.2). NCPE (2004a: 8.2) expressed its desire that training would begin before the end of 2004, However, the ACPO member (intelligence) (N06) noted in August 2005 that Centrex still was at least five months away from delivering on its training promises. Two ACPO members (N03 and N06) regretted Centrex’s inadequate support of NIM implementation. One (N03), observed that the amount of NIM training that Centrex eventually offered was extremely limited, amounting only to a series of presentations for student constables and intelligence managers. Though the NIM implementation team delivered some workshops for police commanders, these were on the specific subject of tasking and coordinating and not on the wider aims of the model. Even then, because of limits on the NIM team (in terms of staff and resources); it was not able to sustain the training that it offered. He explained that “We never ever had the ability to take it further than grass-roots, bread and butter stuff really”. An NSLEC executive (N054) blamed ACPO for the delay. Its training requirement was poorly defined and the Centrex training staff was unable to clarify it because of poor communications between Centrex and the ACPO project team. He said that he had contacted six members of the ACPO project team for guidance or direction but had received only one response. He believed that the “top-down” approach to training meant that those who would actually implement the model knew the least about what was expected of them. He said that the NIM team, “talked about strategic assessment, they talked about tactical assessment, they talked about all the different problem and target profiles [but] no one 180 knew what they looked like … so that didn’t help the initial implementation”. In his view, NIM training was “a bit of an afterthought”. The ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) said that as an emergency measure, 5,000 CDs that detailed the NIM’s structures and processes were produced and issued to police forces but this did little to raise standards or to ameliorate concerns about the lack of classroom-type training available. The Centrex executive (N054) decried the issuing of the CDs as a token effort that “didn’t actually persuade, motivate or convince anybody about what [the NIM] actually looked like”. The ACPO member (N03) said that a combination of the pressure to implement the NIM by the Government’s April 2004 deadline, and the lack of training support either from the NIM team or from Centrex meant that some forces resorted to delivering their own training. He said that the training was “not necessarily nationally qualified and accredited and may not [have been] the right stuff which then in turn means that people are getting the wrong message locally and will continue to do so because there’s no quality assurance mechanism on it”. Few police trainers understood the NIM (ACPO member, N03) Even though ACPO wanted to do more to explain the model to frontline staff; the “national expertise pot” was just too small. The few trainers with sufficient knowledge were either attached to forces whose chief officers would not allow them to be released (a prime example of protectionism) or because of competing demands on their time, were able to offer only an ad hoc service. The ACPO member (intelligence) (N06) recalled that NSLEC eventually provided more support in the form of seminars for BCU commanders only. He said that this was no more than “Band Aid training”. He wished, with hindsight, that he had been more robust in pushing Centrex to deliver what ACPO needed. However as the foregoing analysis has demonstrated, it is questionable whether, in Phillips’ absence, he would have got the support he needed in that context from his ACPO peers. Earlier, the ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) argued that the model could not work effectively unless the commander, the intelligence manager and the analyst 181 were working together in harmony. However, the obvious inadequacy of NIM training meant that two of those three were completely unprepared for the demands made upon them and the third was provided with only the most basic of knowledge. Given the recent history of high profile intelligence failures, the reader may question ACPO’s training strategy. In my view, the consequences of failing to train people for these key roles were never properly considered. Even though the police service lacked the necessary knowledge or expertise, it would be reasonable to surmise that it might be available in some other government department. However, that alternative seems never to have been considered and that perhaps provides more evidence of the ‘silo’ mentality in policing (referred to by many researchers including Shapland, 1998 and Fleming and Rhodes, 2004). Both ACPO members considered that despite the lack of training, the NIM delivered some improvements in intelligence work. One (N03) said that intelligence assessments had improved marginally since implementation but further development was dependent on improvements in information technology. The other (N06) noted that whilst the overall standard of intelligence assessments had improved, he continued to see a “mixed bag” that were “overly crime related” and that ignored those problems of concern to local communities. However, O’Connor (2005: 36) has argued on the basis of assessments seen by HMIC inspectors that despite the rhetoric within the model, the picture was uniformly poor. NIM intelligence assessments had only “a narrow base and [that] in many places the analytical and other products appeared to have had only a limited influence on decision making”. A further example of that fractured and disjointed approach to strategy and policymaking is provided by efforts to estimate the scale and extent of policing problems in BCUs and in forces. As the reader has seen, police intelligence units produce the NIM intelligence assessments but the crime audits required by the Crime and Disorder Act 1998 (that are used to formulate a three-year plan of how the local crime reduction partnership will address crime and disorder in their area) were produced by completely different departments (usually those with responsibility for community relations). Forces also were 182 obliged to produce annual policing plans which often were written by a third department. One can only speculate how forces managed their business well enough to respond to a NIM strategic assessment refreshed every six months, the NPP (now National Community Reassurance Plan) refreshed every three years, crime audits refreshed every three years (but not according to a pattern that coincided with the NPP), and the annual policing plan prepared for the police authority (see Fletcher and Stenson, 2009 on the growing complexity of these arrangements). The NIM structures and processes could replace some if not all of these other strategic plans and indeed, proposals to merge the NIM strategic assessment and the crime audit set out in the 2004 White Paper seemed eminently sensible. The ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) said that he held a series of meetings with representatives of the Association of Police Authorities (APA). According to an APA official who participated in those meetings (N05), there was an expectation that the model would become ever more important as a business plan for police authorities. The official (N05) said that the APA saw the NIM as being capable of strengthening accountability in ways that pointed “fundamentally to a better relationship” between police and partners. The NIM’s Language and Style Factors in the resistance to the NIM that I have not yet properly acknowledged were the language, style and even the name of the model. John and Maguire (2004) found in their study that there were large ‘knowledge gaps’ amongst all ranks and some resistance to the NIM based on ignorance and on dislike of its ‘academic’ structure and language. Many respondents in this research (for example, two ACPO members (N01 and N06), an FIO (N017) and a former detective inspector (N055)) cited the management jargon and exclusive language contained within the NIM as impediments to comprehension of the model in mainstream policing. A typical observation was that the model was “too full of terminology… and it is not user friendly”. A senior intelligence analyst (N039) said “It just blinds you with the language and the unnecessary jargon”. An ACPO member (N053) said 183 that the NIM had earned a bad reputation because it was “overly bureaucratic… overly complicated and it needed simplification”. The NIM’s inaccessible prose gave insufficient consideration to the reader. Jargon and exclusive terms may be common currency in policing but the NIM raised their usage to new levels of obfuscation and impenetrability; this was a classic example of the medium obscuring what was meant to be a very simple message. The ACPO member (crime policy) (N01) suggested that: with the benefit of hindsight, the 20/20… I think that had it been written in simpler terms, had it not been so elegant, elegantly written, if it had been conceptualised in a different way I think it would have taken off much easier. The ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) said that for the ordinary police officer the model was, “very high-powered, very high-level, and principally sound without question... but little practical application within it”. In interview, the NCIS senior executive (N02) accepted that he had made mistakes in formulating the NIM. In writing the model, his central aim had been to describe a management process that put intelligence at the heart of policing activity but he had assumed a level of knowledge that just did not exist in mainstream policing. He said: I acknowledge that we wouldn’t start from here now. Of course we wouldn’t… I suppose, this is inevitable, not only was [the NIM] a child of its time, it was a product of the people of that time. Even though we were being innovative, I joined the cops in 1964 so I’ve kicked around it for 40 odd years and inevitably times change. ‘Management speak’ of the kind found in the NIM is a curse of the age. Often it is used to make something seem more impressive or complex than it really is. Caulkin has argued that in that idiom, “imaginary concepts and attributes are earnestly described and referenced, as if they really existed” (2005: 1). The model is littered with examples. For instance, the NIM terms “knowledge products” and “system products” mean, respectively, ‘knowledge’ and ‘systems’. The knowledge and systems described by the NIM possess no attributes beyond those commonly understood but their meaning is obfuscated as a means of elevating the terms and inflating their importance. As many respondents in this research commented, elaboration of this kind is neither desirable nor necessary and it certainly was a 184 barrier to understanding, yet examples of this kind of mystification are sprinkled throughout the model. The case against management or marketing speak of this kind perhaps was put best by Sir Ivor Roberts, formerly the British ambassador to Italy. In 2006, on leaving his employment with the Foreign Service, Sir Ivor noted wearily: Too much of the change management agenda is written in Wall Street management speak which is already tired and discredited by the time it is introduced. ‘Synergies, value for money, best value, benchmarking, silo working, roll-out, stakeholder, empower, push back, deliver the agenda, fit for purpose’, are all prime candidates for a game of ‘bullshit bingo’ (in Parris, 2009: 1). Readers of the NIM and its associated codes and manuals of guidance will sympathise with Roberts’ sentiments. Disappointingly, even though ACPO eventually recognised the challenges that the model faced in this context, the ACPO member (intelligence) (N06) confirmed that it made no effort to change the NIM’s prose. I argue that ACPO’s subsequent efforts, through NCPE, to produce ‘doctrine’ for the police service (see for example, NCPE, 2006 and 2006a) demonstrate clearly that it learnt little from this failure. Even though the NIM essentially described a business or planning process (John and Maguire, 2003), many respondents in this study referred to the inappropriateness of the term ‘National Intelligence Model’. To many, it suggested an unwelcome association with particular policing styles or specialisms (that is, criminal intelligence or crime control) and in the minds of many confirmed the NIM’s role in what Reiner (2010: 206) has called the “managerialist-cum-populist stress” on crime-fighting, prevalent in this period. An ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) said that the model was named “incorrectly”. In his view, the NIM was “a policing model that is all about resourcing; all about information” but the inclusion of the word intelligence “skews things a little bit”. He suggested that more accurate names for the NIM would have been the “National Information Model” or the “National Resourcing Model”. The NCIS senior executive, a co-author of the model, agreed that, the NIM was “very much a business model rather than an intelligence model” 185 as the term implied. The ACPO member (intelligence) (N06) agreed that the model’s designation was misleading. However in his view, the debate on that topic already had been fruitlessly rehearsed “a zillion times”. He said, “Yes the name is misleading but would I change it at this stage? Probably not”! UK Intelligence Architecture The reader has already seen indications that the police intelligence architecture in England and Wales during the period of this research was fragmented and inefficient. I argue that even if senior commanders had been completely committed to the NIM, the inadequacy of that architecture would have prevented the model from making the impact that Phillips’ anticipated. In this section, I highlight some of the most significant inadequacies and inefficiencies. During this study, national responsibility for managing criminal intelligence was vested in NCIS. A tasking and coordinating inspector (N016) said that most forces managed their responsibilities for local and regional intelligence through force intelligence bureaux. A significant exception to that rule was the largest force in the country, the Metropolitan Police. This led the NCIS senior executive (N02) to suggest that the Met was “hazarding its future” because without that single point of access it was unlikely that it could fulfil its information management responsibilities, under the Data Protection and Freedom of Information Acts.32 He also felt that the Met needed to make a bigger contribution to the national intelligence architecture.33 In the mainstream, local intelligence units have long since replaced collators. However, a former detective inspector (N055) said that the notion of local intelligence staff as less capable and less valuable than their operational colleagues persisted. The NCIS 32 The reader will have seen that the Met established a criminal intelligence branch in 1960. The senior executive’s words suggest that he was sceptical about the ability of that department to manage the intelligence from all of the force’s headquarters units and BCUs. 33 The Metropolitan Police Intelligence Bureau (the ‘MIB’) was finally established in 2007. 186 senior executive (N02) said that the lack of training and support offered, meant that those who worked in BCUs probably were the least well trained in the police service and also the least well paid for the work that they did. In his view, the service was simply “not geared up” to intelligence work at the local level because the service had “never seen it as an area for people investment”. He cited as an example, the intelligence failure connected to the murders of Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman by Ian Huntley. He said that the systemic failure, in every one of the 43 forces in England and Wales, to properly train and support intelligence staff meant that an event like Soham had been “an accident waiting to happen”. Though in his view it was no coincidence that it was Humberside, a force that had “invested so little in its intelligence and information management” which had suffered the most. Cope et al (2003: 29-30) posited that the shift to ILP demanded an intelligence system based on network principles that employed a ‘production line’ approach in which intelligence units “function as ‘knowledge centres’ within the ‘intelligent organisation’”. In such systems, the unit takes responsibility for developing information on individuals or groups which it then passes to other units who enact the investigation. This approach has a compelling logic in the modern era and, at least in part; it is consistent with contemporary practice. However, Fielding (cited in Cope et al, 2003) highlighted that it was difficult for the network logic to overcome “the established values of the occupational culture, together with the tradition of hierarchical organisation”. I argue that events following the putative implementation of the NIM demonstrate that Fielding’s words were particularly insightful. The NCIS senior executive (N02) said that instead of applying that kind of logic, the service just used the intelligence system as a place to “chuck everything you haven’t got a home for”. In the aftermath of the Soham murders, the Bichard Report identified fundamental errors in police intelligence processes and inter alia recommended the establishment of a national intelligence database and protocols for the management of intelligence (Bichard, 2004). ACPO’s response; the IMPACT Programme, was formulated to encompass a 187 comprehensive change in police information management. This included the computerised IMPACT Nominal Index (expected to enable forces to establish whether data of interest in criminal investigations might be held elsewhere) and the Police National Database (meant to provide a single access point for data held across all of the police’s local and national information systems) (NPIA, 2009). The programme also established a new code of practice for the Management of Police Information (the MoPI) (NCPE, 2006b). Interviewed in 2005, the NCIS senior executive (N02) said that Bichard should be a catalyst for a major change in policing because “the one thing that the cops are responsive to is getting smacked about the head and Bichard has given them something to think about”. However, he was critical of NPIA over its MoPI guidance (NCPE, 2006), which approached the problem of information management “from the old police perspective… you pile all the stuff in a pot somewhere and ransack it at will”. NPIA failed to recognise that police systems did not provide the fundamental integrity in records management required. That made the service intensely vulnerable around information not managed properly according to the law. Interviewed in August 2005, the ACPO member (intelligence) (N06) regretted that he had not been more robust in his response to the Bichard Report. He said that the opportunity to talk about the failure of intelligence was missed. Data protection was only a small part of the problem yet this is what, in the main, Bichard had focused upon and ACPO had not challenged this effectively enough. The capability of intelligence staff should have been a matter of much greater concern to ACPO. In interview, a former detective superintendent (N051) recalled his experiences as a teacher at Bramshill Police College during 2008. He found that his students (in the main, senior police officers) complained that their intelligence units were made up of “the sick and the lame”. In that context, the situation clearly had improved little since the Audit Commission (1993: 37) made that same observation some 15 years earlier. He said that the officers’ comments demonstrated that there was an inability amongst senior officers to understand that “if you don’t make any investment in intelligence then you will get back exactly what you put in”. 188 The ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) believed that the police service could resolve the situation by creating a national career pathway for intelligence officers (just as Phillips had done in Kent). He questioned the need for sworn police officers to hold intelligence posts. He said that the precedent of ‘civilian’ intelligence officers was well established in “the security services, the military and in NCIS”. However, there is a certain irony (given the support of the President of ACPO and another key figure in intelligence in the Association) in the fact that ACPO does not appear to have made any move to develop this as policy and also that none of the services that the ACPO member (N03) identified, was called upon to resolve the intelligence training deficit in policing he identified. According to another ACPO member (N053), the inadequacy of police intelligence work could not be attributed to a lack of resources. He felt that the “generosity” of successive governments, meant that the police had sufficient resources to meet most challenges they faced in this context but (in his view) the police needed a model based upon the service’s twin strengths, its people and its information. The failure to train staff in the NIM was symptomatic of a wider malaise in police training; forces did not tell their staff how to use information. Police training was all about “training to respond to incidents and being able to deal with incidents in a capable fashion”. Whereas, it needed to be approached in a more holistic manner. A senior intelligence official (N050) said that the police struggled to use their information effectively. She felt that the service did not have the necessary infrastructure. Essentially, in her view, policing was hamstrung by the “response” culture (that Phillips had identified in Kent and which was one of the factors in the development of the NIM). She was critical of the police’s information-gathering processes observing that, “policing doesn’t think about what information it wants to gather… most of the information is brought to it by the people who use its services. It still doesn’t do an awful lot of pro-active information gathering”. 189 A further problem was the reluctance of officers to share the information that they collected (which could of course also be attributed to the failure of the training regime). An ACPO member (N053) said that even though some key individuals stood out like beacons and “realised that actually understanding the information is critical”, the general level of resistance was “just truly truly magnificent”. He considered that Centrex’s introduction of the MoPI (NCPE, 2006b), had failed to achieve its intended aim. The MoPI had gone some way to persuading officers that they should not conceal intelligence from their supervisors. However, the hoarding of intelligence by different units and departments remained problematic for the police organisation. He said: It may have moved beyond the individual but it’s now very clearly in teams, units, stations, boroughs… and it’s exactly the same argument, magnified up. It’s exactly the same as it was in the 1970s. It’s now actually much bigger on an organisational level. If the organisation wants to embrace information-led rather than intelligence-led policing then it needs to actually find a way to get rid of all those cultural barriers, all that protectionism, that exists. The ACPO member’s words reflect both the findings of Innes and Fielding (2002), and of Manning and Hawkins (1989: 145) who noted that “the social organisation of police work ensures that information... remains located primarily in the heads of officers, and secondarily in their own case files, private notes or log books”. According to the ACPO member, the new infrastructure Centrex had attempted to establish (through the MoPI and other intelligence doctrine) had been only partially successful in overcoming the cultural resistance to the sharing of information. The hoarding of intelligence in the ways described is not just significant in the context of police culture but could have serious implications for the service in terms of its compliance with a range of legislation from the Data Protection Act 1998 to the Human Rights Act 1998. I argue that the issues described in the foregoing paragraphs should have been of much greater concern to police managers. That they were not, suggests a lack of understanding of the consequences of inadequate and inefficient data management. Phillips’ Retirement from the Police Service 190 A rather obvious question that arises from the foregoing analysis is, ‘if there was so much resistance to the NIM then how did it achieve the measure of success claimed in the previous chapter’? I argue that the most important factor in that context was David Phillips’ policy entrepreneurship which allowed him to overcome his colleagues’ objections and to secure ACPO’s mandate. Phillips exploited his influence on the Home Office to persuade it to codify the NIM as the model for mainstream policing in England and Wales. However, with hindsight, it is now obvious that his position as President of the Association was critical to his success and his departure from that post in March 2003 meant that his star (and the prospects for the NIM) soon began to wane. The Home Office senior official who lauded Phillips’ advocacy of the NIM and the impression that he made on the department (N065) said that Phillips’ influence on the Home Office was diminished by his retirement from the police service. He said that the model: Started to lose its focus when David Phillips moved from being ACPO President to NCPE because NCPE for him was all about applying NIM in practice even more rigorously and demonstrably... the whole lustre if you like of being President of ACPO and a full time chief as well - you know, going to a quango like NCPE - he was very frustrated in that role because the influence was nothing like as significant. Following Phillips’ departure, lacking its former President’s personal (not to say, crusading) commitment to the NIM, the priorities of the Association seemed to change. I argue that the latent resistance to the NIM described earlier by the ACPO members (N03 and N06) came to the surface. Thereafter individual members gave greater priority to their own ideas, their own ambitions, for policing in the modern era (for example, those ideas captured in the neighbourhood policing programme) and to other challenges that were emerging (at least at the rhetorical level, these included the need to deal more effectively with cross-border crime and questions about force restructuring). However, by persuading the Home Office to codify the model (under section 39A of the Police Act 1996, as inserted by Section 2 of the Police Reform Act 2002); Phillips had 191 set the service on a path from which it could not easily deviate. 34 This presented ACPO members with a problem. Few matched Phillips’ enthusiasm for the model but the NPP and the statutory NIM code of practice meant that they could not easily ignore it. In the following chapters, I argue that typically the compromise solution favoured by the service elite was to adopt a policy of ‘NIM compliance’ that ‘ticked boxes’ but which paid little meaningful regard to business outcomes. 34 The code of practice was issued by the Secretary of State “in relation to the discharge of the functions of chief officers of police”. A chief officer of police shall have regard to this code, as will the members of the police force for whom the chief officer of police is responsible”. 192 Cross-Border Crime The service’s inability to respond effectively to cross-border crime undoubtedly was a complicating factor for those advancing the NIM as the solution to the challenges of the twenty-first century. In 2005, HMIC identified a significant gap at this level and questioned the ability of the service’s 30 year-old, 43-force structure to provide a solid platform for a future policing environment that it considered to be characterised by; “widespread, enterprising, organised criminality; proliferating international terrorism and domestic extremism; a premium on intelligence, expertise and smart use of capacity and an increasingly risk-concerned public and intrusive media” (O’Connor, 2005: 7). In interview, the ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) said that cross-border crime was “something which will significantly hurt you if you take your eye off it and if you don’t police it because you’re concentrating on performance targets and [local] issues”. He said that an example of a force that “took its eye off” the emerging problem of cross- border crime with significant consequences was Nottinghamshire. In the first few weeks of 2005, the force’s command team had publicly acknowledged that they had done so. He said that as a result the force’s performance around local crime was “completely off skew” because it took commanders all their resources to try to resolve the cross-border problem. In turn, that meant that local problems began to build up because the force did not have sufficient resources to police them effectively (see Ford, 2010 on the continuing difficulties of the Nottinghamshire force in that context). I argue that the distinction between cross-border and local criminals is false and that it is a barrier to effective intelligence work and investigative practice. A former detective inspector (N055) said that in his experience ‘professional’ criminals (usually associated with cross-border offending) fell into one of two categories, either they were “lifestyle criminals; people who found that they had no other alternatives in life” or they saw life as challenge and made “a conscious choice to engage in crime”. He said that that popular representations of professional criminals failed to acknowledge that individuals can operate at any level depending on the circumstances that pertain at any given time. He said: 193 Individuals exploit opportunities. Someone who is involved in international drug trafficking today, can be involved in illegal gambling tomorrow and at the same be buying other types of drugs for their personal use, getting involved in pirate DVDs or fiddling their VAT or income tax. All these activities present law enforcement with opportunities. In my view, those opportunities are rarely capitalised upon as well as they might have been. The reader need only consider the lived reality of many local communities facing for example; widespread drugs problems or gun crime, to see that a priori there are clear links between those ‘professionals’ and local policing problems. I argue that every professional criminal, every gang boss, every member of every criminal network lives within a community and on some local police officer’s ‘patch’. Properly exploited, the local intelligence opportunities routinely afforded can be useful adjuncts to the more sophisticated intelligence gathering methods that one might associate with specialist detective squads. This would go some way towards the ‘whole service’ approach that Phillips wanted. The closing of the perceived gap between local and cross-border crime was one of the drivers of the plans for force reorganisation that emerged in 2005 (O’Connor, 2005). HMIC argued that the policing environment required a service that could deal effectively with “volume crime [and] the current performance focus, but [would] also have demonstrable readiness to tackle complex, volatile threats to individuals, neighbourhoods and businesses”. To achieve this, the police service needed not only to change its structure, but the “whole configuration of policing” (2005: 6). Ultimately, Home Office reorganisation plans were shelved due to opposition from police authorities. However, that debate has rumbled on with ACPO continuing to favour replacement of the existing structure with larger regional bodies that may be better placed to tackle national and international serious and organised crime and finding support from Her Majesty’s Inspector of Constabulary, Hugh Orde (BBC News, 2009). Force restructuring as a means of reforming the service to make it ‘fit for purpose’ in the twenty-first century remains firmly on the agenda. 194 In the context of that debate ACPO (2008) argued, perhaps counter-intuitively given the foregoing analysis, that the NIM is a cohesive model that is capable of coordinating operational activity from the national to the local and from the local to the national. According to ACPO (2008: 56), the NIM can also enable “information to move freely between local level community intelligence and ‘developed intelligence’ to trigger covert investigations”. Arguing against, the effectively disintegration of the service, ACPO cautioned the Home Office that future mechanisms for “funding, governance and accountability must recognise “that the whole spectrum of policing activity must be given due priority in parallel” so that the service is not “balkanised (sic) into separate structures for neighbourhood policing; cross border policing activity and national security” (ACPO, 2008: 57). Just as with its ‘Neighbourhood Policing Reinvention Cycle’ hypothesis there is logic to ACPO’s argument. However, the reader has seen in this study that many ACPO members’ true commitment to the NIM must be questioned. Whether the Association’s new claims for the model amounted to a Pauline conversion of its membership to its aims or whether the NIM simply was enlisted as a means of influencing policy is surely open to debate. Notwithstanding that consideration, there already is a division in policing which is entirely of the police’s own making, which undermines Phillips’ ‘whole service’ philosophy and which I argue is capable of undermining plans for the service in the twenty-first century. The divide between the uniform branch, divisional detectives and the specialist detective force which I have referred to throughout this thesis, represents a cultural rift in policing which has been accommodated for more than 125 years. I argue that, if anything, the NIM widened that rift. Summary of Analysis This chapter analysed the challenges that Phillips faced in convincing his peers that the NIM was ‘fit for purpose’ as the model for operational policing in the twenty-first century. Despite’s ACPO’s explicit support and the Home Office’s codification of the NIM, few 195 chief officers were willing to make the same far-reaching structural changes that Phillips had effected in Kent. Whilst President of ACPO, Phillips’ policy entrepreneurship was sufficient to drive his plans forward but once he left that post, his influence on the Association began to wane and the scepticism of his peers became clear. In this chapter, I described the resistance of the ACPO membership to the NIM and analysed the reasons for it. Phillips’ retirement from the police service was hugely significant because it meant that at a crucial stage of its implementation, the model lost the policy entrepreneur that it needed. Without his advocacy, commitment and support, individual chief officers could not be persuaded to make the significant structural and organisational changes that his plans required. ACPO’s decision to recommend the model to chief officers did not carry as much weight as Phillips might have anticipated; that in itself said much about the relationship between the Association and its members. There was a significant body of opinion that saw the NIM as no more than a diversion from the real business of policing, central to which was the achievement of centrally-imposed performance targets. An ideological commitment to preventative and reassurance policing strategies (which also were being ‘pushed’ by the Home Office in the same period) explained the scepticism of some. The resistance of others was variously explained as a product of: the association of the NIM with NCIS and the Kent force (which confirmed the resilience of the ‘fiefdom’ mentality in policing); the fundamentally flawed implementation process, in which persuasion and education were replaced by prescription and diktat; and the language and terminology of the NIM. This analysis suggested that ACPO’s claims that the NIM was a ‘cohesive model’ capable of coordinating information flows and cross-border policing activity was barely credible. Just as in the UBP experiment, there was no meaningful engagement with that section of the service that most independent observers would expect to have the greatest knowledge and expertise in matters of intelligence and investigation, the detective force. The NIM contributed nothing to ameliorating the divide between the CID and the uniformed branch of the service. All this was compounded by the fact that the police 196 intelligence system was so dysfunctional that at the beginning of the new century it could not support the ‘simple set of fundamentals’ that the NIM was supposed to represent. However, Phillips had set ACPO on a path from which it could not easily deviate. The NPP and the statutory codes of practice that emerged from it meant that the NIM could not be ignored. The solution favoured by many ACPO members was to implement the model only partially or at least only to the extent that it was necessary to satisfy inspectors that they had complied or at least were attempting to comply with it. The result of that ‘compliance’ was that all the relevant HMIC inspection boxes were ticked but the ethos of the NIM was lost and there were few meaningful changes in the police organisation or in practice In principle, the NIM may have been capable of delivering all that Phillips promised but in practice the challenges to the model, not least in overcoming structural and cultural resistance, were immense. In the next two chapters, I continue my evaluation of NIM implementation process by the examining the impact of the NIM on the investigative and intelligence practices of two police forces ‘Urban’ and ‘County’. I will argue that the case studies add significant degrees of colour and texture to the foregoing analysis. 197 Chapter 7 - Evaluating the NIM: Urban Case Study Introduction This chapter, the first of two case studies, evaluates the implementation of the NIM in the ‘Urban’ force. It examines how a large police force in England and Wales, rejected the NIM as a business process for the corporate level of the force but mandated its BCUs to implement the model. The chapter discusses Urban senior commanders’ resistance to the NIM and how that played out at the corporate and at the local levels of the force. It also examines how Urban met its statutory obligation to achieve ‘NIM compliance’ against the background of that resistance. The influence of the NIM on intelligence work and investigative strategy in the force is analysed by assessing the effect of the NIM in an Urban BCU on: the practice of intelligence collection; intelligence collation, analysis and evaluation; the presentation of evidence in intelligence assessments; consultation with partners over the ranking of investigative priorities and, the implementation and monitoring of operational policing plans. That analysis is based on observations of management and NIM meetings, interviews with officers and staff and with policing partners. It also draws on the views of a broad range of frontline Urban officers collected in focus groups. Reaction of the Urban Elite to the NIM I chose Urban as a case for study because it is one of the largest and most influential forces in Britain. It has often taken the lead on policymaking, has a long history of ‘going it alone’ and was likely to offer a significantly contrasting perspective on the NIM to the second case ‘County’. Against the background of the resistance to the model within ACPO, the failings of the national police intelligence architecture, and the inadequacy of the implementation process, as described earlier, and also Urban’s pre-existing commitment to 198 the introduction of one of the most ambitious programmes for neighbourhood policing in England and Wales, NIM implementation was always going to be a challenge for the force. In interview, the NCIS senior executive (N02) said that whilst it “never showed any inclination to do so” Urban’s size and influence meant that the force could have “killed off” the NIM before the idea of a national model for operational policing in the mainstream became established. Given ACPO’s ‘presumption of compliance’ in favour of the model, it might be considered that talks between the NIM team and Urban’s ACPO members about the model would be straightforward. However, providing further evidence of ACPO’s lack of cohesion (see Savage et al, 1996), the NCIS senior executive (N02) said that talks between the two aimed at persuading the force to accept the model were difficult and negotiations were a “long painful process”. Nevertheless, the meetings convinced him that Urban would support it. He said that at one stage of the negotiations he was offered the job of implementing the NIM in the force. His response that he was “not looking for a fast track to the grave”, indicates his opinion of the scale of the challenge facing Urban. In 2002, following the meetings with the NCIS senior executive, Urban established its own NIM implementation team. Ostensibly, the role of the team was to prepare the force for the NIM. However, team members quickly recognised that despite the agreement that Urban had made with the NCIS senior executive, its senior commanders were not persuaded of the merits of the model. A senior intelligence official (N050) (who had been employed by the force as a ‘special advisor’ on the NIM) said that she personally saw the potential of the model but that it was far from certain that the chief officer would accept it for the whole force, and that there was never any chance that he would restructure in the same way as Phillips had done in Kent. She said a further barrier was that some (one may reasonably assume, those who were not party to the meetings with the NCIS senior executive) believed that the NIM was being foisted upon them without adequate negotiation. A senior Urban official (N015) said that the key issue in the force was that the NIM “wasn’t invented here and therefore they (the senior commanders) just would not have it”. 199 There were other concerns about the model. Research respondents (including the Urban DOI (N098) and the senior intelligence official (N050) indicated that at least some of that opposition was founded on the model’s perceived conflict with the commanders’ own strategic plans for the force, which extended to establishing a new intelligence structure overseen by the specialist detective branch. The senior official said that a section of the senior command team expressed doubts about Urban’s ability to dovetail the model into its existing strategic management processes. Those doubts increased as they learned more about the NIM (which suggests that anecdotal accounts - provided by several respondents – which suggested that Urban’s commanders essentially had ignored the NIM, hoping that it would be dropped by the Home Office, may have had some validity). Naturally, this research was unable to capture every development in Urban but according to the senior intelligence official (N050), with limited input to Urban’s elite decision-making forums its NIM team found it impossible to sustain commanders’ interest in the model even though none of the command team were willing to come out and publicly reject the model. The official (N050) said that initially she had welcomed the model but she too came to the realisation that the NIM was “fundamentally flawed” as a strategic business model. She said that she spoke for many at the top of the force who believed that its advocates just had not fully appreciated the complexity of business planning in modern policing. As much as anything this demonstrates that senior commanders were unwilling or unable to accept the NIM as the organising framework for its business. Their rejection of the model meant that Urban’s executive (that is, at the level below the senior command team) made few efforts to embed it in the business processes of the wider organisation. Tellingly, the head of Urban’s strategy unit (N015) said that the executive perceived the resistance to the NIM to be so great, so entrenched, that a decision was made not to refer to the model in any new corporate plans because to do so would mean that senior commanders would not sign off on them. Predictably therefore, during the period of this research, the NIM played no meaningful part in coordinating operational activity at the organisational level. That is to 200 say, it had no impact whatsoever on any of the force’s major decision-making forums. Despite her efforts to complete something that accurately described the challenges that Urban faced, the senior intelligence official (N050) said that no NIM intelligence assessment “worthy of the name” was produced at the organisational level. According to Urban’s tasking and coordinating inspector (N016), the very best that could be said about the NIM’s impact on senior commanders was that it was “extremely limited”. A member of Urban’s senior command team (N031) said that Urban’s focus on other strategic priorities took precedence over any planning for the NIM. He said that as someone committed to streamlining Urban’s management processes and to finding solutions aimed at preventing the force “hurtling in crisis mode from one issue to the next” he should have been the NIM’s strongest advocate. However, in interview, he seemed bemused that the subject was being raised at all. He said that since joining Urban in 2005, he had done nothing to encourage discussion of the model and his “honest observation” was that he could not remember the NIM coming up “in any meaningful way in any measurable discussion” he had been party to. He said: It is interesting that we have just not confronted [the NIM] in any meaningful way. So even in the context of where we were looking very carefully at how to get a more rationalised joined up effective way of using our intelligence, NIM has been invisible.35 A member of Urban’s police authority (N052) said that he had been briefed on the NIM by the force’s NIM team in 2004. Initially, he had been concerned about Urban’s ability to adopt the model because it represented such “a revolutionary approach to strategic management for the force”. Three years on, his sense was that it was the norm in policing and had become “embedded” in Urban because (since that briefing) the model had been referred to so rarely in his meetings with the force’s commanders. However, the comments of the senior command team member (N031) in this section suggest that, regardless of the 35 In the context of the NIM’s ‘invisibility’ it should be noted that in his 2008 Review of Policing, Sir Ronnie Flanagan examined: the future of policing, policing risk, structures and systems to support 21 st Century policing, developing the police workforce, and working in partnership (all of which are central to the NIM). However, he did so without making a single reference to the model (see Flanagan, 2008). 201 NPP and of ACPO’s decision to implement the NIM, to all intents and purposes the model was ignored at the elite level of the force. Urban’s DOI (N098), a second member of the Urban elite to declare their support for the NIM, expressed his frustration with the attitudes of his peers. In his view, the greatest problems for the NIM in Urban were “the cultural barriers [and] protectionism” that existed in the force. He said that even if the earlier rhetoric (that emerged from their meetings with the NCIS senior executive) suggested otherwise, most of the senior commanders were unwilling to embrace the changes that the NIM was bound to bring and some members simply would not share information and resources as the NIM required. He cited as an example, his peers’ attitude to plans for the new intelligence structure which included at its apex a new FIB controlled by the specialist detective branch. He (N098) considered the bureau essential to the success of the NIM in Urban. He said that even though the chief officer and his deputy were persuaded that a new structure was needed, the majority of senior commanders were ambivalent and some were publicly and implacably opposed to the plan. The DOI (N098) said that the ACPO member with responsibility for local policing services was “dead against it” and the member in charge of the force’s Special Branch (SB) was “vehemently and venomously against it”. In his view, the former feared that he would lose staff and resources (including knowledge) to the new (specialist detective-controlled) intelligence unit, and the latter was concerned that he would be surrendering to the new unit, his exclusive access to intelligence received by SB from the security services. As I noted earlier, commentators such as Skogan (2008), Flood (2003) and Grieve (2004) have argued that the service has undervalued the intelligence function. Whilst that may have been a factor in this case, the DOI’s words suggest that a much more significant factor was the reluctance of senior commanders to give up the power and influence that their positions at the top of their profession had brought them. Gill (2000: 7) has argued that in this context, information is a currency or a commodity that can be traded to obtain more information so that “power thus comes to be defined not in terms of hierarchical 202 office but in one’s reputation for having ‘knowledge’”. This case demonstrated conclusively that ‘hierarchical office’, ‘power’ and ‘knowledge’ are inextricably linked (see also Manning, 2008 in that context). Something that should be acknowledged is that the NPM-inspired reforms discussed earlier may themselves have been a factor in that protectionism. Gilling (2005: 749) has noted that the accountability mechanisms that are features of regimes underpinned by NPM, usually establish a “heavily top-down, vertical structure of accountability” that places a significant emphasis on the measurement of performance. Crawford (1998: 248), too, has argued that “managerialist reforms may actually serve to push... public sector agencies into prioritising their own introspective needs”. Considered against the background of recent COMPSTAT-inspired reforms in policing, it is easy to see how a police manager might be sensitive to any changes in their departments that reduced their resources without also diminishing their responsibilities. Whatever the reasons for the senior command team’s resistance, its continuing intransigence meant that even though a modified plan for the FIB eventually was accepted, the NIM did not go on to assume any greater prominence at the highest level of the force. A member of the senior command team (N031) confirmed that the model had little effect on the wider organisation and its impact even on the new FIB was limited. This was substantiated in 2008 when an independent inspection of the force found that rather than complying fully with the NIM, the bureau had decided not to apply the model consistently and had even unilaterally determined that the NIM model was “not compulsory” for some categories of the intelligence it managed (HMIC, 2008: 23). In my view this development was predictable - FIB executives were simply following the lead of Urban’s commanders. Against this background, I will now go on to examine the impact of the NIM at the local level of the force, where despite senior commanders’ reservations about the model, it was implemented partially and with little enthusiasm. I draw on the observations of a variety of operational policing meetings and interviews with a BCU command team, intelligence workers and frontline staff. 203 NIM at BCU Level I argued in the previous section that the NIM simply was not implemented in Urban at the elite level. However, the senior intelligence official (N050) said that even though she believed that the model could not help to organise the business of the force (as an individual entity), she was persuaded (and in turn, as their special advisor, persuaded senior commanders) that it would have some value for BCUs where she felt it might be able to organise the policing of local communities in a relatively straightforward way. Urban’s senior management mandated its NIM team to work with its BCU commanders to introduce the model at the local level. This decision brought the additional benefit of demonstrating to the Home Office and to HMIC (which was tasked with monitoring forces’ implementation of the model) that Urban was fulfilling its duty under the NPP to implement the NIM even though that decision meant that the impact that the model would have on the strategic direction of the force was marginal. The reader has seen that, together, the NPM-inspired management ethos (a feature of policing since the 1980s) and the HMIC inspection regime (and also, more recently, the presence of the PSU) encouraged police commanders to prioritise compliance with the diktats of central authorities over other priorities. In this case, the senior commanders’ decision allowed them to continue to administer their force according to their own plans and also to achieve the required standard of compliance with the centrally-imposed model. It could be argued that in so doing, the force’s commanders wanted to move beyond that plateau that Goldstein (1979) criticised as ‘administrative competence’. However, in my view, the decision was confusing for staff (the Urban tasking and coordinating inspector (N016) said that he just could not understand why commanders were “hammering” boroughs with the compliance message but essentially were ignoring the NIM themselves) and resulted in inefficiency and waste. 204 BCU senior management team (SMT) members generally were unaware of the tensions surrounding either the NIM or intelligence structures at the highest level of the force. For them, there was no negotiating; the NIM was just another policy they were obliged to implement. Just as at the highest level of the force, views on the NIM were inextricably bound up with attitudes and beliefs about the broader topic of intelligence work. The BCU SMT members interviewed said that they welcomed its emphasis on, and support for, intelligence work. However, they had reservations about whether the changes they were obliged to make to their operating practices could be effective in the long term. The BCU commander (N033) said that the model brought structure to her operational planning. She said that it meant that officers better understood how their individual efforts fitted into the broader picture of intelligence, which Urban collected to support its investigative activity (though little evidence was seen in this study to support that belief). A detective chief inspector (DCI) (N035) said that the NIM meeting structure offered more accountability and the chance of better engagement with partners, and it also allowed the BCU SMT to demonstrate that it both understood the policing problems it faced and that it was managing its resources effectively. Though as this chapter will show, at least in terms of partnership and resource management, that analysis was flawed. The SMT’s commitment to intelligence work was evident in its resourcing of its local intelligence unit which was made up of approximately 40 staff. Headed by a detective inspector (DI) as the intelligence manager, the work of the unit was divided between a number of ‘focus desks’ overseen by sergeants (some detectives, others police sergeants), staffed by civilian analysts and researchers, and sworn police officers as FIOs. 36 Though CID officers accounted for most of the supervisory posts, they represented only a very small minority of the staff (only four out of the 40 staff in the unit during the period of the research). During the study, the unit operated focus desks for the principal concerns of the SMT: robbery, motor vehicle crime, burglary, major crimes and safer neighbourhoods. In the BCU chosen for the study, the NIM meeting cycle was followed faithfully, and the 36 As the name suggests, focus desks represent small groups of staff that concentrate on particular crime types. 205 BCU’s analysts prepared NIM intelligence assessments in the recommended manner. On the surface at least, the NIM was in place and was fully operational. The inspector, tasking and coordinating (N016), confirmed that similar arrangements were in place across the force, though he acknowledged that their efficiency and effectiveness were inconsistent. A member of the senior command team (N031) was more direct on that subject. During his visits to BCUs across Urban, he found that intelligence capability was “very variable” and the whole picture of NIM implementation was not as “clear cut” or positive as he had expected to find. It became clear to him that there was no consistent approach to the NIM and that it had not provided a framework capable of developing that consistency. He was particularly concerned that what he observed seemed to contradict the endorsement of Urban’s efforts that he personally had received from HMIC. I argue that this once again raises an important question about inspection processes that prioritise process over outcomes. The senior commander’s words confirm not only that the NIM was perceived to have been implemented inadequately across Urban but also ask important questions of an inspection process that could determine otherwise. Few frontline officers interviewed for this research were able to relate the NIM to their daily work; those that attempted to do so discussed the model only in the vaguest of terms. Given the lack of NIM training discussed earlier, it was entirely predictable that this would be the case. Intelligence staff had a better understanding than most, of what the NIM was intended to achieve because (as the ACPO member, NIM implementation) (N03) confirmed earlier in this thesis) intelligence managers and analysts had been provided with some (albeit limited) training. An intelligence team leader (N042) said that on balance the model was seen as a positive development. A senior intelligence analyst (N039) said the NIM provided clarity, structure and common points of reference. However, like many before her, she criticised the delivery of that information. Echoing the views of some senior commanders, an Urban DCI (N035) said that the NIM had been imposed without 206 sufficient consultation and without sufficient account being taken of local differences (that is, without reference to context); this made the NIM “a very difficult beast”. Tensions between the intelligence manager, the analysts and the SMT were revealed by the manager (N038), who should have been a key figure in the process. However, he felt that he had been marginalised by the NIM. He said that he had been cut out of the chain of command (and the information loop) so that the BCU commander tasked the senior analyst and other analytical staff without any reference to him. He said that he played no part in the preparation of the NIM assessments and was not invited to the consultative meetings. He, quite rightly, recognised that his role should have been to oversee the intelligence function. However, he said that “In this BCU, the role may as well not exist as the SMT seemed to hijack and countermand” any proposals he put forward. For her part, the senior analyst (N039) criticised the manager for failing to perform his duties. She was critical of his lack of knowledge of the NIM, and of intelligence pathologies generally, which she said were the root causes of the problem. However, she also was critical of her force for appointing individuals to such important posts without properly assessing their suitability for it. Choosing her words carefully, she said that in her experience: Most intelligence managers do not know what goes into a strategic assessment let alone be able to project-manage it. That is the case here (emphasis added). You get the odd keen intelligence manager but most of them don’t get involved and don’t want to get involved… They should be told that that is their role. You know, don’t just dump a DI in the role. A field intelligence officer (FIO) (N045), one of the sworn officers in the unit, sided with the analyst. He said that intelligence managers needed to play a more proactive role in the preparation of the NIM assessments. He said that every intelligence unit needed a “really good leader… somebody who will fight your corner and bat away anything that is inappropriate; but also when you’ve got something that needs doing, press for it to be done”. Tellingly, he added “I think you need somebody who is pretty much unrelenting and we just don’t get it at the moment”. 207 Rather than blaming his SMT, the manager (N038) laid the blame for this situation at the feet of the NIM which (in his view) had created a divide between police officers and civilian analysts so that analysts reported directly to the BCU commander and sworn officers (such as he) had “zero input” into the NIM. This was very much a personal view that was not confirmed by other respondents (and of course was contradicted by the senior analyst and the FIO). However, it does at least demonstrate that there was disagreement over the role the manager should have played (which according to the NIM ideal is to act as the mediator between the operational and intelligence worlds). As the reader will see later, that misunderstanding was significant because it perpetuated the inefficiency of the intelligence unit (for example, in terms of the prioritisation of analytical work). One consequence of the manager’s disillusionment with developments in the unit was that, without official approval, he maintained his own intelligence database using a stand-alone computer to record information on those suspected of crime in the BCU area (essentially, reinventing the collator system but with a personal computer rather than a rolodex and card indices). This breached both the force’s data security rules and data protection principles. The FIO (N045) said that the database was insecure and amounted to a “ridiculous duplication” of the official records and it was clear that the database was a continuing source of tension between the intelligence manager and the rest of his team. I highlighted earlier in this thesis, that for many years the police service has failed to properly resource its local intelligence units. In this case, the major problem was the lack of NIM training provided to those described as key actors in the NIM (by the ACPO member (NIM implementation), N03). To paraphrase his concerns about the consequences of failing to prepare those individuals, ‘where the BCU command doesn’t actually understand the model, where the analyst is poorly trained and where the intelligence manager is working on their own – that’s where the NIM breaks down’. These were exactly the issues in the Urban BCU. At the heart of this problem was not the NIM itself but the lack of commitment to it by the force’s senior commanders and BCU SMT’s. The dysfunctional relationship 208 between the SMT, the intelligence manager and the senior analyst that I have described here, demonstrated in a very real way, the consequences of the service’s failure to meet the challenges of the NIM (described in the previous chapter) which included its failure to speak with a single voice on the model, its seeming inability to manage the competing demands upon it, a fundamentally flawed implementation process, and a failure to remedy what should have been obvious failings in the police intelligence architecture. These were bound to result in the kind of issues that were only too evident in Urban. The NIM Process in Urban Having established the environment into which the NIM was introduced, this section now examines the model’s influence on intelligence work and investigation in the force. Intelligence Collection in Urban The intelligence unit’s primary purpose in the new environment was to collect intelligence around the BCU’s priorities in accordance with the NIM’s code of practice. However, what may appear to be a simple task for 40 intelligence unit staff was complicated by poor supervision of those frontline staff who contributed much of the unit’s data, and by the BCU’s focus on generating performance data rather than intelligence analyses. The unit relied heavily on police data for its analyses. Many intelligence reports were entered into the intelligence database by patrol officers via any one of the more than 100 data terminals located across the BCU. This was convenient for the officers but respondents said that it gave the unit little control over what was entered. Cope et al (2003: 26) highlighted that in the modern era officers provide so much extraneous information in their reports that it creates an ‘information glut’ that proves problematic for analysts. This was confirmed by a DCI (N035), who said that the NIM encouraged the collection of so much data; it was difficult to extrapolate essential intelligence from “the mire”. The huge number of intelligence reports did not necessarily translate into useful intelligence. 209 The intelligence manager (N038) attributed this to poor supervision and the insistence of the SMT that the quantity (rather than the quality) of reports submitted should be a performance indicator. The intelligence manager (N038) and a patrol constable (N049) detailed the effect of that decision. Duplicate reports could be entered by officers from the same team for the same incident or, where multiple persons were stopped at the same time, separate entries for each person could be made without them being linked. So for example, where four officers stopped three individuals, in theory, a total of 12 intelligence records could be created. The result was no more useful intelligence than would have been generated by a single entry. The manager (N038) said this was a significant factor in the perception of the unit as a ‘black hole’ into which much data entered but little came out again (see Ratcliffe, 2005 and Sheptycki, 2004 for further discussion of that subject). A constable attached to the telephone crime reporting unit (N067) and a detective sergeant attached to the criminal justice unit (N070) felt that the major reason for the inclusion of “inappropriate” reports was that officers were working in a “blame culture”. They were afraid to leave out any information that might later be needed to rebut a complaint made against them. Williams (2005) argued, in the context of claims made against state actors (such as the police) accused of regulatory failure, that the rise of a blame or compensation culture in contemporary society may be an urban myth. Myth or not, the need to ameliorate the perception of a blame culture in policing has been commented upon by, amongst others, the Independent Police Complaints Commission (IPCC, 2011) and Flanagan (2008). Flanagan (2008) acknowledged that risk avoidance activity has often included the kind of bureaucracy described here. He has argued that policing needs a national debate on risk aversion that does not generate even more bureaucracy. Whatever the reason for the recording of information in the ways described here, this section vividly illustrates that police officers did not necessarily think very intelligently about intelligence, that the NIM did little to improve that situation and that some other model or process built on Flanagan’s 210 principles for the more effective management of risk is required in policing if officers’ actions are to be modified. Collation, Analysis and Evaluation in Urban The NIM was expected to focus the work of intelligence analysts. An individual piece of analysis is often the product of many hours of work by analysts and researchers. Therefore, analysts should produce assessments only around identified priorities (or otherwise if directed by the intelligence manager). In practice in the Urban BCU, most of the analysts’ work reflected those priorities but a significant proportion was commissioned by individual SMT members, other BCU staff (usually detectives or neighbourhood policing staff) or by Urban’s headquarters. Those extraneous analytical products did not always reflect the BCU’s priorities and deflected the intelligence analysts from their work. A BCU analyst (N044) said that the intelligence manager and senior analyst tried to filter those requests but protocols were not always followed and the consequences for the analysts’ workload were “massive” because it took them away from the BCU’s priorities and from the preparation of the NIM intelligence assessments. I argue that there was an obvious need for a ‘business analyst’ but it appeared that this was never considered. The senior analyst (N039) said that her staff could also be diverted from the BCUs priorities by requests from Urban’s HQ. These could often be imprecise and vague to the extent that the analysts would question the value of the analytical product required. She gave an example of a request to provide a profile of ‘youth crime’; it did not specify what it meant by youth crime, the time period covered, or any other limiting criteria: It was hard going and it just ended up being a crime pattern analysis with (at the end) a conclusion as to whether we thought we had a youth crime problem on this borough. It just felt like we rushed to do it and I know all the other boroughs did [the same] and then we didn’t hear anything back. You just kind of get a ‘Thank you very much’ and no feedback, no results, no nothing. As the reader can see, the imprecision of the request resulted in confusion and inefficiency. I argue that those are words that are far too often associated with local intelligence work. 211 Many examples of crime pattern analyses and subject profiles were seen during the fieldwork for this research. No results analyses (the analytical technique recommended to commanders by the NIM as providing a better means of evaluating their operations) were carried out by the intelligence unit. Gill (2000) has described an ideal model of an intelligence system in the modern era. That system orientates around information and control and utilises feedback to steer future action. However, Innes and Fielding (2002: 14) have argued that Gill’s system represents a “’normative model’ of what should happen, rather than a ‘descriptive model’ of what actually occurs in practice”. In particular, they argue that the feedback loop that is fundamental to the model usually is missing. I argue that the lack of results analysis carried out in Urban lends weight to Innes and Fielding’s criticism and suggests that in this case the NIM did not make the BCU any ‘smarter’ in evaluating its operational endeavours than it had been under the previous regime. Presentation of Evidence in Urban Strategic analyses were collated by the senior analyst and every six months they were presented to the BCU commander at a strategic meeting. After three months, the assessment was reviewed at a further meeting (so that there were a total of four strategic meetings each year). Each week, the intelligence unit produced a NIM tactical intelligence assessment for the tactical meeting which reported on the progress of the BCU’s strategic plans. To that extent, the BCU faithfully followed the NIM guidelines. However, both the BCU commander (N033) and senior analyst (N039) questioned the value of these assessments. The former said that the requirement for each BCU to complete a strategic assessment did not represent the ‘best value’ that was expected in policing in the modern era. She agreed with the senior command team member (N031) that the standard of the assessments was variable and inconsistent. She felt that they were completed too frequently because “the strategic impacts don’t change that quickly” and that Urban should establish a strategic analysis unit to compile thematic assessments for the force (though she 212 clearly was unaware of the resistance to the development of new intelligence structures at senior commander level discussed earlier in this chapter which suggests that communication between senior commanders and their BCUs was not all that it should have been). The senior analyst (N039) questioned whether her SMT understood the assessments were intended to provide the basis for a discussion about future priorities, rather than simply confirming what the SMT already knew about its policing problems. She said there was a danger that it saw the assessments as “paper exercises” that did not influence the day- to-day business of the BCU; assessments that would be referred to for administrative purposes but otherwise were “shelved”. The need to meet Home Office performance targets meant that the control strategy would always include burglary and robbery. Those were the crime types that would attract its scarce proactive resources because the BCU commander directed it so no matter what the intelligence assessment recommended. What this forcefully demonstrates is that the NIM did not overcome those established values of the occupational culture and the hierarchical tradition of the police organisation. A former ACPO member (N04) said that the “big push’ on performance management was “inimical” to the NIM and that in his experience if “strategic and/or tactical assessments indicated anything contradictory to national priorities, the latter held sway”. That HMIC inspectors did not identify this as an issue in their inspections of the force, suggests one of two things. Either, this issue was unique to the selected BCU or, it was of little concern to the inspectors. My view here is that the foregoing analysis (which highlighted inspectors’ enthusiasm for compliance) suggests that the latter is much more likely to be true. Earlier in this study, the ACPO member (NIM implementation) (N03) argued that commanders should beware of focusing on performance to the exclusion of all other considerations because failing to see the ‘bigger picture’ could allow new threats that may have been just over the operational horizon to emerge unchallenged. That warning was not heeded in this BCU (in the next chapter the reader will see that County was similarly 213 unprepared to meet those challenges). I argue that the setting of the BCU’s control strategy according to centrally-imposed priorities rather than according to local intelligence assessments demonstrates as forcefully as anything in this research, the reality of ILP. In my view, the NIM would have struggled to gain acceptance in the mainstream even if the antipathy of the force’s senior commanders had not been a factor because the tensions between the model and the neighbourhood policing programme and between the reactive and proactive policing paradigms, together with the pressure to hit performance targets, manifested themselves just as forcefully in BCUs as they did at the force level. I argued earlier that the lack of training offered to frontline staff was a significant factor in the failure of the NIM. A senior analyst (N039) said that she had struggled to write the intelligence assessments because of lack of guidance. Assessments seen during the research period were weighty documents that clearly had taken a great deal of preparation. For example, the shortest assessment seen was 73 pages. At the end of the study, looking back at the previous year, the senior analyst (N039) said that they remained too long and complicated because she had not received sufficient training or support to complete them in a simpler manner. She continued to prepare lengthy and complex assessments because she simply did not know what to leave out. Her concerns about the assessments were shared by another BCU analyst (N043) and an intelligence team leader (N042). The former said that the NIM tactical assessments were largely worthless because they simply repeated information that the SMT already knew from its daily management meetings (also known as ‘morning prayers’). Once again, this highlighted the value that police commanders attached to compliance. Something that received little attention in Urban was the NIM intelligence requirement. In interview, the NCIS senior executive (N02) said that the intelligence requirement was “terribly, terribly, terribly, terribly difficult” to explain but he felt it was important to get right so that local intelligence could be fed into the fight against serious and organised crime being carried on by specialist detective units. However, that was a message that was not understood in Urban. The senior intelligence analyst (N039), the only 214 respondent to refer to the requirement in this study, said that its completion effectively was a paper exercise to ensure compliance with the standards set by ACPO. She said that the intelligence requirement: Stays in the PowerPoint and the Word document and doesn’t really go any further than that. I’m not really sure what should happen to it to be honest… I think we write the intelligence requirement because we need to - that’s all. The willingness to continue to expend organisational time and energy in demonstrably inefficient and ineffective ways like this, even when the shortcomings of the NIM process were obvious to everyone, reveals much about the organisational culture of policing. It was hard to escape the conclusion that at every level of the BCU, individuals and groups carried out activities simply because they were told do so by those above them in the hierarchy. The compliance imperative pervaded the whole organisation and few were willing or able to challenge that orthodoxy even when it was obvious that there was a need either to adapt the model for the existing system or vice versa. Wright (2007: 605) has argued that effecting any behavioural change in police organisations is a long-term process that requires “a clear understanding of the pervasive culture... and the individual and collective needs it fulfils”. He highlighted that it is not enough that change programmes like the NIM adhere to a “compliance agenda”, they must also “be highly credible to experienced practitioners and address the real difficulties inherent in the job” (Wright, 2007: 606). Some researchers have highlighted that there has been a shift in police culture symbolised by the increasing dominance of ‘bureaucratic management cops’ whose focus is on the professionalisation of policing in the modern era (see for example Foster, 2003 and Wall, 1998). However, it is difficult to escape the conclusion that the collective failure of the BCU SMT and its staff to challenge obvious inefficiencies, explored here, suggested that the model was not made sufficiently credible to practitioners. It also suggests that there remained a substantial gap between the realities of day-to-day police management and the rhetoric of the NPM business ethos, with too much emphasis placed on compliance at 215 the expense of a proper examination of inputs and outcomes. I argue that this provides further evidence that Urban failed to grasp what it really meant to be intelligence-led. Consultation with Partners in Urban Phillips’ plans for the NIM highlighted the importance of effective police/community partnerships. NCPE’s subsequent guidance elaborated on his plans (see NCPE, 2005 and 2006), setting out clear directions to police commanders to consult a range of partners when deciding on priorities and on the allocation of operational resources. However, in the BCU selected for this study there was only very limited evidence that the NIM contributed to that inclusive model of decision-making. Many commentators have expressed concerns about police/community partnership forums (see for example, Gilling, 2005 and Byrne and Pease, 2003). Byrne and Pease (2003) argued that the police have become frustrated with the partnership experience because it has not delivered what they expected. However, Gilling (2005) highlighted that this frustration is born out of a flawed perception (on the part of the police) of the pre- existing CDA arrangements. He argues that many fail to recognise that partnership actually represents a complex social phenomenon. Individual actors bring their own ‘baggage’; each has their own “professional ideology, occupational culture and organisational culture” and partnerships need time and energy from all participants if they are to be effective (Gilling, 2005: 737). Gilling (2005) argues that the advance of ILP strategies has seen ‘partnership’ becoming more of a one-way street with non-police bodies increasingly being used to address ‘second order’ problems that usually would come under the heading of anti- social behaviour (ASB). I argue that, in theory, the NIM should have offered the Urban BCU’s partners a chance to influence policing priorities in much more effective ways. However, there were a number of ways in which practice fell short of the theory. First, relatively few attended the NIM meetings. These were chaired by the BCU commander and were attended by the SMT and a range of police managers and analysts. The only non-police attendees at the 216 meetings observed during the research were officials from the local authority’s crime reduction department. I found no evidence that any meaningful effort was made to discover what it was that partners who failed to attend the meeting needed from the police. Whilst the views of those who did attend were sought, on no occasion were BCU plans changed to accommodate their needs. In part, this was due to the fact that partners made few demands on the police (I discuss the reasons for that later in this section). There was one particular issue that seemed to be of concern to the local authority. The subject of anti-social behaviour (ASB) was raised at each strategic meeting observed but complaints from the local authority’s crime reduction department, that the BCU was ignoring ASB, were dismissed by the BCU commander. Providing a perfect example of the tension between priority crime and those harms of greatest concern to communities that I discussed earlier, the senior analyst (N039) said that despite demands from the local authority for ASB to join the “few crumbs” for the partners in the police control strategy, it was not included because of the BCU’s focus on achieving performance targets for those crimes (robbery, burglary and vehicle crime) measured by the Home Office. On the basis of the strategic assessments seen in this research, it was highly likely that a more objective appraisal of the intelligence would have led to the inclusion of ASB in the BCU’s control strategy had the NIM guidelines been followed faithfully. However, as the reader saw in the previous section, the decision to set the strategy before the meeting (and to exclude partners from that discussion) was the BCU commander’s and hers alone. The senior analyst (N039) expressed her sympathy for the local authority. She blamed the commander’s flawed interpretation of the NIM process for the exclusion of the authority from the discussion over future priorities. She said: It’s like they are coming to be informed about what we are discussing rather than them being involved in the discussion. It is the process that is wrong. They always raise anti-social behaviour and want to know why it is not on the control strategy. I get the feeling that they go away thinking that they are all out of the loop. I get the impression that they don’t get much out of it. The DCI (N035) suggested that this debate masked fierce competition for resources between priority crime and the “key public issue” of ASB which, as I will show 217 later in this chapter, was being played out outside of the strategic NIM meeting. The chief inspector ‘partnerships’ (N036) said that some in the BCU recognised that the same individuals who committed the robberies and burglaries were responsible for the ASB and that they could be targeted through anti-social behaviour orders and the like. However, there was little evidence of this in the strategic meetings observed. At those meetings, the senior analyst (N039) presented the BCU’s future priorities which changed little over the research period. In reality there was little to discuss in the meeting in that context, as she explained that she agreed the priorities with the commander in advance of each meeting. It was the SMT’s expectation that meeting the performance targets for priority crime would always be more important than anything else and therefore there was little room for manoeuvre. The analyst wanted the commander to follow the NIM guidelines, and to seek the views of staff and partners in the meeting. However, she said that her lack of training and her inexperience meant she never had the confidence to challenge the latter on that point. It was obvious from the exchanges observed, that the BCU’s performance against Home Office-imposed targets was by far the most important consideration for the commander with the result that she allocated a disproportionate amount of resources to those areas in which the BCU was under-performing. The chief inspector ‘partnerships’ (N036) said that although this went completely against the principle of the NIM, “borough commanders ‘live and die’ by their performance targets” and they could not afford to do otherwise. That tension was apparent at the first strategic meeting observed and was never resolved during the period of the research. The conflict between demands on the police to deal effectively with ‘priority’ crime and at the same time address those areas of concern for local communities has long been recognised. Like Gilling (2005), Crawford (2001: 63) highlighted the competing agendas of partners in this context. He argued that the managerialist reforms of the last 20 years not only encouraged a kind of individual introspection on the part of the police but also have strengthened intra-organisational control at the expense of collaboration. They may also 218 have hindered the cause of partnership by buttressing ‘baronial fiefdoms’ in the criminal justice arena (see Shapland, 1998). Indeed, Shapland (2000) has argued that these managerialist reforms may actually have strengthened those spheres of influence. The NIM tactical meetings also demonstrated the imperfect application of the model. These were large meetings chaired by the BCU commander and divided into two sections. The first phase was usually attended by around 25 police officers and staff and representatives of the local authority’s crime reduction department. They were lengthy affairs, often lasting longer than two hours. As in the strategic meeting, there was a heavy emphasis on the BCU’s performance throughout this phase, although the NIM tactical intelligence assessments were also given some prominence. Once again, local authority crime reduction staff were the only non-police attendees. The local authority CRM (N058) said that she was always made welcome at both the strategic and tactical meetings. However, she recognised that her ability to influence the police was extremely limited because her contributions amounted to no more than “chipping in a comment about this or that decision”. She believed that decisions made in the meetings were police decisions and there was not the “genuine shared responsibility” that the NIM’s advocates envisaged. Explaining the fact that she made few demands upon the BCU, she said that she felt that the NIM meeting was largely irrelevant to her work and was therefore happy to see her role simply as that of an observer. Interviews with the BCU commander and the CRM confirmed their shared commitment to partnership working but the CRM did not view the NIM as important to future success in that context. According to her, other partnership forums established as a result of Urban’s neighbourhood policing programme offered better opportunities for liaison and joint working which again demonstrated the separation of the two programmes. At least at a rhetorical level, other members of the BCU SMT seemed equally committed to the development of that relationship. For example, the DCI (N035) said that she wanted to see more engagement with local partners and much more effort put into working together to find solutions to policing problems. Both the DCI (N035) and the 219 CRM (N058) welcomed the Home Office proposal for the preparation of a joint strategic intelligence assessment.37 The argument in favour of a joint assessment was best put by Oakensen et al (2002: 9). They argued that crime audits should be joined together with NIM strategic assessments so that they complemented rather than duplicated each other “especially where analysis of underlying causes of a particular crime or disorder problem also identify longer term issues that only other social agencies have the ability to address within a reduction strategy”. This was something that both the DCI and the CRM said that they wanted to implement in this borough but no progress was made in that context during the period of the research. The most significant partnership forum established by police and partners in this BCU was the Joint Action Group (JAG) which, ironically, had absolutely no connection with the NIM. The JAG was meant to coordinate multi-agency working in the Crime and Disorder Reduction Partnerships (CDRP). Nominally, the JAG was headed by the BCU commander and the local authority’s chief executive, though in practice it was managed jointly by the Superintendent ‘Communities’ and the authority’s Director of Environmental and Cultural Services. JAG meetings were hosted at monthly intervals by the local authority and were broadly equivalent to the police tactical NIM meeting. They represented the ‘practical’ meeting recommended to local authorities by the Home Office in its web-based crime reduction toolkit Using intelligence and information (Home Office, 2003a). A wide-ranging list of attendees included local authority housing managers, licensing officers, council ASB officers, representatives of the Parks Department, the local fire and rescue service, representatives of the BCU’s neighbourhood policing teams, drugs action team members and environmental health officers (many of whom the police would have liked to have seen at the NIM meetings). The JAG was informed by an intelligence assessment written by the local authority analyst. He relied principally on the authority’s databases but was also permitted full access to the BCUs data records. As a former police analyst himself, he was very well- 37 Proposals to merge the NIM and CDA assessments were recommended in the CDA review (Home Office, 2006). 220 informed both about local crime problems and the pressures on police analysts to focus on priority crime. However, lacking the police’s obsession with performance, the local authority’s assessment was a much more focused report on local problems (including local policing problems). The meeting oversaw a number of joint activity sub-groups which were largely focused on ensuring the delivery of projects funded by the local authority. These operated according to action plans agreed by the BCU in its annual policing-plan. The chief inspector ‘partnerships’ (N036) said that initially the JAG had been seen by some officers in the BCU as a threat to their monopoly on operational decision-making but that most had come to realise that it presented a “massive opportunity” for the police to engage more effectively with their community partners. The CRM (N058) argued that the JAG was still developing (there had been only four meetings) but that it complemented the NIM meetings and offered a useful indication of the path that the police and the authority should follow in the future: I would say that there’s a huge amount of work to do... the theory is all there but in terms of really genuinely, hand on heart, being able to say that everything that we do is driven by intelligence. That is a long way away. There’s still far too much of this is what we do because this is what we always have done – on both sides. The level of cooperation between the police and the local authority through the CDRP, JAG and policing-plan forums raised the rather obvious question of the impact of the NIM on those relationships. The BCU commander (N033) said that the NIM was helpful because it provided a structure for partnership working and that any suggestion otherwise simply highlighted the need for it to be marketed more effectively. However, the CRM (N058) felt the NIM over-complicated what at heart was a very simple process and, in effect, she ignored the model and its processes. Gilling has argued that police/community partnerships can be slow to develop. They often rely on the individual agencies getting to know one another and establishing “the antecedents of trustworthiness” in each other (Gilling, 2005: 751). Whilst the JAG arrangements seemed to offer some scope for the development of an effective local partnership, the NIM offered much less 221 prospect of a constructive alliance because the absence of partners from the NIM meetings meant that there was simply no opportunity for the partnership to develop. In the BCU selected for study, the NIM added very little to the police’s partnership with the local authority. The de facto exclusion of partners from decisions about operational priorities meant that the NIM meetings were no more inclusive than any of the pre-existing partnership forums. This was far from Phillips’ vision for the model and suggests that the police continued merely to pay ‘lip-service’ to real partnership in terms of operational decision making. As Foster (2002: 190) notes “there are no quick fixes” for building effective partnerships but one can see that something that would have demonstrated real commitment to partnership in this case would have been to merge the NIM tactical and JAG meetings. There would of course be a number of practical difficulties to overcome such as satisfying the police’s obsession with performance indicators, deciding on the frequency of the new meeting and accommodating such a large group at regular intervals but none of those should have been insuperable. However, the police’s silo mentality and orthodoxy (for example, in being unwilling or unable to challenge traditional practice in the way described in this section) meant that such solutions were never seriously considered. During the period of this research, the merging of the meetings simply was not discussed. Monitoring Problems in Urban The operational plans made in the NIM meetings did not conform to the NIM code of practice (NCPE, 2005a). In none of the strategic meetings observed were middle managers (or in NIM terminology ‘plan holders’) given responsibility for carrying out operational plans. In another example of police managers’ orthodoxy, the chief inspector ‘partnerships’ (N036) suggested that this could be explained, at least in part, by the fact that each SMT member already knew their responsibilities and therefore did not need to be reminded of them. However, the senior intelligence analyst (N039) argued that the failure to identify 222 operational heads in the way envisaged in the model led to a duplication of effort and a wasting of the BCU’s scarce resources. The Urban tasking and coordinating inspector (N016), who was usually based at Urban’s HQ, said that he had visited a NIM meeting at this BCU and was concerned that middle managers seemed to take little responsibility for the operational activity of their staff. He said: I was sitting there… [wondering] ‘Where are all the chief inspectors and inspectors? Inspectors in particular are getting paid a lot of money to perform that role aren’t they? I know it sounds awful and I don’t mean to have a go at them but I was thinking ‘Well why aren’t they here?’ and ‘What could they do if they were here?’ and ‘Would there be more effective delivery if they were here? However, for reasons known only to him, he never raised this point with the BCU commander and the meetings continued according to the same format. A central principle of the NIM is that the BCU commander should make all operational plans in the strategic meeting. In that way the commander should have all the resources of the BCU at their disposal. However, the senior analyst (N039) described how a separate system, completely divorced from the NIM process, had emerged in the BCU. Ironically, under this parallel system, police middle managers were identified as operational heads and given defined action plans for the reduction of priority crime. However, those plans were never discussed at the NIM meetings. The senior analyst said that she was “completely in the dark” because the SMT had: been having meetings that I haven’t been going to because I didn’t know about them. Apparently, they have burglary, robbery and motor vehicle action plans but I don’t know if those are the action plans that are supposed to come out of the control strategy or something else. I don’t know what they’re basing it on. I don’t know what is going on. This case clearly shows once again that compliance with the formal rules introduced by the NIM was largely presentational and did not significantly affect orthodox practice. Operational activity was coordinated through action plans because that was the way that the BCU had always worked (this could of course also explain the demand for analytical work that did not match the control strategy priorities, discussed earlier in this chapter). The 223 senior analyst (N039) believed that this parallel process could have been brought within the NIM structure to the benefit of the BCU. This would have had the effect of making middle managers more accountable for the actions of their staff. However, when interviewed for this research, she had not yet had the opportunity to address the issue. What was clear was that in this period the intelligence unit was marginalised and excluded from discussions about the allocation of a significant quantity of the BCU’s resources because the BCU SMT prioritised the meeting of performance targets over any other consideration; the result in that context was that the NIM simply was ignored. It also suggests that the BCU’s scarce operational resources were not deployed as intelligently as they might otherwise have been. In the first phase of the NIM tactical meeting (which was known by participants and other BCU staff alike simply as ‘the tasking meeting’), current proactive operations were reviewed and new operations (usually to reduce crime in newly identified hotspots) were commissioned by the commander. The second phase of the meeting was attended only by the commander, the DCI, a representative of the BCU’s duties office and the supervisors of the BCU’s proactive teams. The aim of this (in effect) second meeting was to assign operational staff to various operations over the forthcoming week. The commander and DCI used a weekly ‘duties planner’ prepared in advance by the duties office. Some tasks and commitments had already been entered into the planner. In those cases, the commander decided on the number and type of resources that were to be assigned to the task. Supervisors then ‘bid’ for the remaining operational resources. For example on one occasion, an inspector in charge of a neighbourhood policing team asked for extra staff to be assigned to assist in an eviction. Disappointingly, as no partners attended this phase of the meeting there was no opportunity to enlist their help in solving the BCU’s problems. Crucially these meetings highlighted just how few resources the BCU was willing to devote to proactive policing. Its own assets amounted to approximately 50 uniformed officers (divided into small teams) and a ‘crime squad’ made up of detectives and uniformed officers employed in plain clothes. This represented less than five percent of its staff. The rest were allocated to core teams (responsible for responding to all emergency 224 calls and for routine patrol activity), ‘ring-fenced’ neighbourhood policing teams, or support duties. Neither the national detective agency (SOCA) nor the force’s specialist detective units were ever referred to by BCU staff as possible sources of assistance. The BCU was able to bid for certain categories of extra resources from Urban’s HQ. The tasking and coordinating inspector (N016) said that each week, BCUs entered a competitive bidding process with other BCUs and departments for Urban’s HQ resources (such as the dog section, mounted branch, the surveillance department or the tactical support department). Applications were assessed in the light of the current performance of the BCU then passed to an operations group meeting at Urban HQ overseen by the specialist detective branch. The inspector (N016) said that the group relied almost exclusively on performance data to reach its decisions. Bids were usually assessed “on the basis of need”. If a BCU or department’s performance was dragging down the performance of the force for a particular crime type then it was almost certain to be granted that assistance. However, he admitted that there was a consensus within Urban that the process was dysfunctional; resources were not being deployed where they were most needed. Because of this, the system was in a state of almost permanent flux. It had been changed on a number of occasions and he expected it to change again when the force’s new FIB was introduced. It was striking that not one respondent in Urban suggested that the NIM might be the vehicle to effect change in this regard. In another illustration of the protectionism that this research suggests is endemic in policing (perhaps indicating that in policing, there are fiefdoms within fiefdoms), the inspector (N016) explained that it was both the structure and membership of that group that were in issue. Its chair (to which he himself reported) was subordinate in rank to many of those applying for assistance. Decisions taken by the group were often criticised for favouring the specialist detective branch which was taken extremely seriously by the heads of the other branches who felt that branch performance would suffer if their needs were denied. Urban inspector (N016) felt that the conflict could be resolved only if one of the 225 highest ranking ACPO members (the chief or their deputy) chaired the meeting to provide objectivity and greater transparency but also to give the chair greater authority. I argue that the management processes described in this section could have been much more effective, efficient and economic had they followed the NIM’s principles. Of course, as this section has shown, both local and corporate systems of resource allocation were made to work (it is significant that the Urban inspector (N016) commented in interview that this BCU was considered to be one of the best in the force) but the processes described here not only represent a significant departure from the NIM ideal but also a diversion from the ideals embodied in POP, community policing, the principles of best value, and the normative rules of bureaucratic hierarchies that police managerialism (underpinned by the principles of new public management were meant to address. Collectively, they provide further evidence of the service’s misconceptions of what it is to be ‘intelligence-led’. The arrangements described here raise questions both about the efficiency and the accountability of the management processes and about the extent to which the formal rules established by the NIM (which ostensibly were accepted by the Urban elite and the force’s executives for Urban’s BCUs) and the NPP were merely presentational, justifying conduct but not affecting practice in the way that Reiner (2010) has identified in other policing contexts. I addressed the apparent willingness to continue to expend organisational time and energy in inefficient and ineffective ways, earlier in this chapter. Police rhetoric suggests that these kinds of inefficiencies have been ameliorated by changes in management practices and in new commitments to transparency and accountability in the new millennium (see for example ACPO, 2004). Yet, as this section has shown, there remained a substantial gap between the realities of day-to-day police management and that rhetoric. In summary, I have sought to demonstrate that despite the rhetoric around ILP and the NIM, the picture of policing in Urban basically remained unchanged. The specialist detective force’s contribution to policing in Urban was as limited as it had been under the 226 other schemes (such as UBP) that were meant to deliver significant improvements in the mainstream and the police continued to pay lip-service to real partnership working. Ninety-five percent of the police resources remained undisturbed and the model remained at the periphery of operational policing. This, of course, was very far from Phillips’ vision for the model. NIM and Neighbourhood Policing in Urban The selected BCU was a ‘pathfinder’ site for the implementation of neighbourhood policing. Each of the 43 Home Office forces had selected one BCU as its neighbourhood policing pathfinder. Forces were expected to focus their implementation activity on those sites so that they could identify implementation problems before they rolled out the programme fully (see ACPO, 2006d and Quinton and Morris, 2008 for further discussion). According to the chief inspector ‘partnerships’ (N036), the Urban BCU had struggled to reconcile the NIM with the neighbourhood policing processes. Implying that people at a variety of levels had not thought any of this through, he said that competing and contradictory demands were often made upon the SMT and that accommodating two new policing models at the same time had resulted in the division of the BCU’s operational resources. A challenging situation was made more difficult by the senior commanders’ decision to ‘ring-fence’ the new neighbourhood policing teams. This meant that they could not be deployed outside the wards to which they were assigned and this often limited the options available to local commanders. The neighbourhood policing teams were not counted as BCU assets and this made it much more difficult for the BCU to reach its Home Office-imposed performance targets. This was a force directive intended to demonstrate Urban’s commitment to implementing its neighbourhood policing strategy. However, it was very much against the NIM ethos which essentially is to put all of one’s assets into one pot and then use them according to a single set of priorities, and it was bound to bring the two into conflict. 227 The DCI (N035) admitted there was a bifurcation of the BCU’s resources and energies which somehow had to be devoted both to the NIM and to neighbourhood policing. That was usually played out in the tasking meetings where the BCU’s ‘bottom up’ NIM assessments which highlighted anti-social behaviour (the explicit focus of the neighbourhood policing programme) were often overlooked in favour of Home Office and organisational requirements in relation to priority crime. The DCI said that she recognised the need to get more from her staff to somehow reconcile those competing demands. The BCU commander (N033) said that this had been made more difficult because neighbourhood policing was considered ‘a soft option’ by staff and this had undermined the BCU’s overall investigative effort. She felt that the neighbourhood teams were not as effective as they should have been because they neglected the crime fighting element of their role. She said that some teams also had a tendency to neglect their intelligence-gathering duties and to believe that simply providing a visible presence in communities was enough and they ignored their duty to carry out “intelligence-led identification of community concerns – prompt, effective, targeted action against those concerns” (NCPE, 2006:4). Certainly few acted as the BCU’s ‘eyes and ears’ in the community as proponents of the neighbourhood policing programme had anticipated. Kleiven (2005) has argued that despite NCPE’s (2006, 2006a) rhetoric, the police have failed to develop their community intelligence gathering capabilities. The BCU commander’s comments may explain, at least in part, that failure. However, it also has to be acknowledged that if the NIM had been implemented properly then there would have been just a single set of priorities and significantly less tension between the two programmes. Urban’s Intelligence Architecture Many research respondents wanted to discuss shortcomings in the intelligence unit and Urban’s intelligence systems which they perceived to have been highlighted by the NIM. As intelligence was meant to be at the heart of the model, the highlighted failings should 228 have been obvious to commanders from the outset. However, problems in the intelligence architecture extended from the top to the bottom of the force. There were many challenges to the development of the force’s FIB. As I discussed earlier, one of the fiercest came from Urban’s specialist detective units, particularly its Special Branch (SB). The Urban DOI (N098) said that the branch was unwilling to share its information with the rest of the force. He felt that it took the ‘need to know’ principle to a ridiculous extreme. For example, shortly after the London bombings in 2005, he had challenged the branch to identify the threat to Urban posed by the radicalisation of young Muslims. He said that he wanted it: to come up with an intelligence requirement for those boroughs that have significant Muslim communities. Their response was just absolutely incredible. ‘Can’t do that’. I said ‘Why can’t you do that’? [The SB officer told me] ‘Well it might just let people know that we’re interested’. Well you just think, for ****** sake, absolutely unbelievable. He said that its attitude demonstrated it failed to recognise the challenges that the force was currently facing but he also saw in the branch’s reluctance, the reaffirmation of “the little boundaries, people working in their own little areas as opposed to seeing the force as a whole”. It also demonstrated forcefully that seeing over the operational horizon is not just a question of box-ticking or compliance but can have real consequences for communities (see Innes et al, 2007 for an analysis of violent radicalisation and extremism within the UK’s Muslim communities – of particular relevance in the context of the DOI’s concerns). At the local level there was a consensus amongst the uniformed officers, interviewed for this research, that the local intelligence unit was not up to its task. Cope et al (2003: 27) found that perceptions of intelligence units often are associated with “unrealistic expectations about what intelligence could produce and what could be achieved based on intelligence”. The Urban FIO (N045) was candid in his assessment of the popular perception of his unit by frontline patrol officers. Their view was that it was “completely shit”. A BCU uniformed sergeant (N066) suggested, rather more diplomatically, that the intelligence unit was seen as taking up too many resources so that something that was no more than a support function was detracting from the ‘real’ policing of the streets. This is 229 a subject that has exercised many researchers (see for example Reiner, 2010; Manning and Van Maanen, 1978) Predictably, this contrasted sharply with the view from within the unit. Reflecting Cope et al’s (2003) findings, the intelligence team leader (N042) said that it simply did not have sufficient proactive resources to manage the intelligence it received. He said that too few officers were capable of being deployed to support operations, and that his staff often were taken away by the SMT to spend time “doing performance and compliance”. The intelligence manager (N038) said that the unit suffered from having far too few healthy, sworn, police officers and was simply being asked to do too much. Even after the extraneous material had been filtered out, the intelligence unit did not have the resources to work on what remained. In his view, having more sworn, fit, officers would provide a better service to the proactive teams to help them in their operational policing duties. This complaint was echoed by other intelligence staff. The team leader (N042) explained that he and half of the police officers in the intelligence office were on (or had been on) restricted duties, which the force’s medical department had determined, required their employment in roles that limited their contact with the public. The FIO (N045) said that whilst most of the unit’s supervisors were willing volunteers, just as in the case of UBP and local collators in the 1960s, many staff were essentially conscripts. That is to say, they were limited to office duties by ill-health or infirmity. The result was that the operational capability usually amounted to no more than two or three constables. This is a common complaint about intelligence work in mainstream policing (see for example, Innes et al, 2005: Cope et al 2003; Innes and Fielding, 2002). However, it was not one that appeared to have been resolved in Urban. For example, the FIO (N045) described a “really frustrating” deployment where, because no other intelligence unit staff were allowed to leave the office, two field intelligence constables (including the FIO) were supervised by three sergeants. The office manager (N040) said that weekend cover also was a problem for the unit. The SMT had decided that there should be skeleton coverage of the office but few staff had 230 the skills necessary to cover all of its functions. The result was that the same two ‘multi- skilled’ people were always called on to provide that cover. In my view, this case suggested that the SMT did not see intelligence work as central to the delivery of policing services. That raises important questions about the purpose and point of the extensive intelligence collection activity and also wider questions about the structure, composition, staffing and purpose of the intelligence unit. The kinds of deficiencies in the police intelligence architecture described here were first identified in the 1930s by the Dixon Committee and the continuing inadequacy of the intelligence system was a significant factor in the failure of the UBP system almost 40 years later. Despite those failures, subsequent internal reports (notably, the Baumber Report, 1975; the Ratcliffe Report, 1986, the HMIC report Policing with Intelligence, 1997 and the Bichard Report, 2004) and external research projects (see for example, Innes, Fielding and Cope, 2005 and Innes, 2003) continued to highlight: the police’s failure to invest sufficient resources in intelligence; to use those resources properly; to really value intelligence work; and to embed the intelligence process ‘intelligently’ in mainstream policing. The introduction of the NIM seemed to have made little difference in any of those contexts. Over and above those problems, in this particular case the BCU SMT’s indifferent attitude to the physical integrity of the unit perhaps indicates better than anything else the standing of local intelligence work in Urban. The intelligence team leader (N042) said that he was obliged to leave the office open ‘around the clock’ even though unit staff were present for only 16 hours a day and the office walls were covered with confidential maps and plans and there was no clear desk policy. He said: You come into our office on a Monday morning after the [uniform teams] have used all our computers. You’ve got kebabs rotting on people’s desks, Coke cans everywhere. They treat it like a dump. But it’s not just that, you’ve got the cleaner who walks in whenever she wants and you’ve got operational targets everywhere and plans written everywhere and maybe a subject profile on somebody’s desk that shouldn’t be on that desk. 231 The FIO (N045) said that the SMT accepted that the physical security of the unit was a problem but it had failed to address it as such because it was considered a long-term accommodation problem. The implications for the security of the unit’s information should be obvious. Certainly, failing to store personal data in a secure environment is a breach of the Data Protection Act and it is difficult to conceive that allowing unrestricted access to such material would comply with Urban’s own operational security protocols. Failing to address these issues suggests that in mainstream policing, relations between patrol officers and intelligence workers and between middle managers and their intelligence units need fundamental reappraisal. Without such a review, Phillip’s whole service approach could never to be considered to be anything more than a pipedream. Summary of Analysis Urban did not establish the NIM at the corporate level of the force. Some of the Urban elite saw the model’s potential for underpinning the development of the force’s investigative and intelligence capabilities but they were very much in the minority. The majority of senior commanders were either apathetic or actively resistant to the model. Some were guilty of being too protective of their individual spheres of control and influence. Others were ideologically committed to other policing models (principally, neighbourhood policing) or simply were not persuaded of the NIM’s merits. Whatever the reasons for that resistance, without an effective policy entrepreneur for the model at a very senior level, it proved impossible to overcome that resistance. Despite the rejection of the NIM at the corporate level, Urban’s implementation of the model at BCU level allowed its elite (by accident or design) to achieve a veneer of ‘NIM compliance’ with the standards set out by NCIS (2004) and NCPE (2005a). Predictably, the elite’s lack of commitment to the model at the organisational level resulted in a partial and inconsistent implementation of the NIM at the local level. Just as at the national level, the apathy of Urban’s elite meant that few efforts were made reach compromises with those who were expected to implement the model, to persuade frontline 232 staff of its merits or to harness the expertise or resources of the specialist detective force to develop ILP strategies in the mainstream. This translated into an implementation process in Urban that was fundamentally flawed. In the BCU selected for in-depth study, it was striking that not one respondent criticised the NIM. Overwhelmingly, it was seen as a positive and welcome development. However, the rhetoric did not match the action and even when NIM processes were implemented this was only at a superficial level and they had little meaningful impact on the BCU’s business. Though intelligence workers welcomed their command team’s initial commitment to the model, persistent and obvious problems in their work were never addressed and executive commitment to ILP seemed also to be little more than rhetoric. Rather than replacing existing structures and processes, the NIM was simply ‘bolted-on’ to existing management structures, and operational practice continued to owe more to orthodoxy and custom than to ILP and the NIM. Given that 95 percent of the BCU’s resources continued to be devoted to traditional, reactive policing this outcome was perhaps predictable. The NIM made little contribution to resolving the pre-existing tension between priority and second-order crime, brought into sharp focus during the period of the research by Home Office initiatives to combat anti-social behaviour. However, for all the reasons outlined earlier in this study, the NIM did not fundamentally change the way in which operational policing was organised and resourced and certainly not in the way that David Phillips had envisaged. The NIM had negligible impact on police/community relations and partnership working at both the organisational and the local levels. In the BCU selected for study, NIM meetings were dominated by the police, and partners’ involvement in decisions about the BCU’s priorities was extremely limited. In the words of the local authority’s CRM, the NIM was insignificant, “neither here nor there”. That lack of participation meant that the NIM meetings were no more inclusive than any other partnership forum and suggested that the police merely paid lip-service to real partnership. The rather obvious 233 solution of merging the police-dominated NIM meeting and the community-driven JAG was never considered as an option. Overall in Urban, few meaningful changes were made to existing organisational structures and processes and the police went about their business as they always had done. Though the representation of operations and intelligence work in the mainstream changed, in reality there were few meaningful changes to traditional practice. 234 Chapter 8 - Evaluating the NIM: County Case Study Introduction This chapter, the second of the case studies, continues the evaluation of the NIM implementation process. It examines the extent to which a largely rural police force in England, referred to here as ‘County’ implemented the NIM. It begins with an assessment of the structure of the force at the time the model was introduced. It was significant that County’s relatively small size meant that it simply did not present the same management issues that were evident in Urban. County differed from Urban in that even before the NIM emerged it had already carried out a far-reaching reorganisation that was intended to improve intelligence work and to make the force truly ‘intelligence-led’. That was an important factor in the story of the NIM in County because (at least on the surface) the force was much more prepared than the Urban force to accept the model. The chapter discusses the County elite’s attitude to the NIM and to intelligence work and how that played out at the elite and the local levels of the force. It also examines how County met its obligation to achieve ‘NIM compliance’. The influence of the NIM on intelligence work and investigative strategy in the force is analysed by probing the effect of the NIM in a County BCU on: the practice of intelligence collection; intelligence collation, analysis and evaluation; the presentation of evidence in intelligence assessments; consultation with partners over the ranking of investigative priorities and, the implementation and monitoring of operational policing plans. Just as in the Urban case, this analysis is based on observations of management and NIM meetings, interviews with officers and staff and with policing partners and the responses of frontline County officers collected in a focus group. Force Reorganisation In 1995, against the background of the drive for greater value for money in policing, County implemented a new crime strategy in the force which was inspired by the 235 innovative ILP models described earlier in this thesis. The force introduced local intelligence units to each of its divisions and these were expected significantly to improve intelligence work in the mainstream. However, later that same year, an independent inspection found that the new units were not achieving expected standards, intelligence analysis was “rudimentary”, the tasking of operational resources was “inconsistent, slow and bureaucratic” and the assistance that the force’s specialist detectives offered to BCUs was “limited” (HMIC, 1995a: 38 and 41). A County BCU commander (N027) (who became a significant figure in the subsequent development of the NIM in County) said that the policing style which evolved in this period “hamstrung” the force with unnecessary bureaucracy; there was too great an emphasis on “the administrative function” instead of “positive investigative outcomes”. This is a subject that I have raised at several points in this thesis; it was not an issue unique to County. The BCU commander (N027) said that in 1997 the new (Labour) Government’s renewed focus on performance management persuaded County that it needed to change that approach and operate within a new culture. He said the force elite finally recognised that crime fighting, community safety, and reassurance should be given greater priority. The most obvious manifestation of that recognition was a further restructuring (along similar lines to Phillips’ changes in Kent) with the aim of delivering an intelligence-led force In October 2001, the force’s operational policing arrangements were completely reorganised, boundaries were realigned and ward-based teams introduced (HMIC, 2004). Officers were reassigned either to intervention, roads policing or neighbourhood policing teams. Senior commanders also enhanced the proactive capability of each BCU and increased the size and capacity of its intelligence units. Each was provided with additional reactive crime investigation and proactive resources (though those available for proactive deployment represented less than 10% of County’s human resources). Case investigation units, crime management units and minor crimes units were created as well as new area intelligence units that were intended to gather and analyse data, enabling crime patterns to 236 be identified more quickly and operational resources to be targeted more effectively (HMIC, 2002). The reorganisation of intelligence work was not universally welcomed. In HMIC- facilitated focus groups, a recurring complaint was the remoteness of the new intelligence units from the bulk of operational work, and the relative invisibility of intelligence staff. This resulted in a significant deterioration in relations between the units and mainstream officers (HMIC, 2002). The County director of intelligence (DOI) (N032) said that that the criticism indicated that County perhaps had “missed a trick” in realigning its staff. Too much emphasis was placed on getting the operational policing teams right, and too little on getting the intelligence units (that were needed to support the operational teams) up to the same standard. She said that: What tended to happen [was that] the sick, the lame and the people who they couldn’t redeploy anywhere else got put into intelligence because that was quite a large office with lots of computers that they think ‘Well as long as somebody knows how to type they can sort out the intelligence’. The very same complaint had been made in Urban (indeed it has regularly been made about intelligence workers), so it was no surprise to see it expressed here. However, given that the inadequacy of local intelligence work has been highlighted so consistently for almost 50 years (certainly since the introduction of UBP in the 1960s) it is worth trying to ‘unpack’ the DOI’s comments. She argued that in developing its intelligence units, County focused on selecting a staff that was IT-literate rather than people who were able to make “really good sound and rational decisions on things”, which arguably should have been the greater priority. That opportunity was missed. Consequently the perception of the new units was that they were simply concerned with “housekeeping” and that real intelligence work would be done elsewhere. Local intelligence officers traditionally were drawn from the ranks of the uniformed branch. However, the rationale for that choice has always been questionable. Baumber (ACPO, 1975) decided that uniformed officers were most suitable for the role for reasons such as, employing officers in uniform meant that forces could avoid paying plain clothes allowance to post holders. The tradition developed that experienced officers (often coming 237 to the end of their service) took on the role but while many of these were capable and committed officers, too many had little aptitude or enthusiasm for the role and hence the image of the local intelligence officer as lazy or inept became established in policing discourse. I have highlighted at several points in this thesis, detectives’ lack of involvement in intelligence work in the mainstream. The County DOI suggested that the deployment of skilled and experienced detectives in local intelligence work would provide the obvious solution to what has proved to be a persistent and seemingly intractable problem. That suggestion has merit. However, Chatterton (2008: viii) has argued that the divisional CID is already under huge pressure to meet the demands made upon it in the face of the “haemorrhaging of detective experience and expertise through transfers to specialist units, squads and major incident teams”. It seems unlikely that police managers would welcome further abstractions from core policing. In interview, Phillips and an ACPO member (N03) both argued in favour of the direct recruitment of civilian specialists for intelligence roles. Whilst civilian analysts and researchers have been directly recruited to intelligence posts by many forces (with some success, see for example Cope, 2004 and Cope et al, 2003), the problems described in both cases suggest that a more fundamental re-evaluation of intelligence work in the mainstream is surely long overdue. County Elite and the NIM Though County’s senior commanders were more receptive to the idea of the NIM than their Urban equivalents, the implementation of the model was delayed at the highest level (and was hamstrung at the BCU level) because of deficiencies in the force’s intelligence structure and processes (despite the recent restructuring). According to County’s principal intelligence analyst (N026), despite the reorganisation that was intended to make the force truly intelligence-led, there was “no strategy for intelligence at all” in County. This had to be addressed before the NIM could be embraced. 238 In 2003, the principal analyst was appointed as the intelligence ‘champion’ for the force. Her brief was to develop the systems and structures needed to accommodate the NIM. However, the establishment of that post in the corporate affairs department (because the NIM was largely seen as an administrative function) rather than in either the crime management department or the specialist detective division (where most of the intelligence functions were located) was problematic because it removed her from the day-to-day business of intelligence. She said that implementation of the NIM was further set back when an assistant chief constable (ACC) who had been a great supporter of intelligence and analysis in County was promoted out of that post. When the ACC moved on, County lost its focus on intelligence because when he moved “that moved with him and it all just... slipped off the agenda”. According to the principal analyst, in the absence of the ACC, there was no one at the elite level who truly believed in the value of intelligence. Therefore, she did not get the support she felt she needed and which this research suggests was so essential. The NIM slipped down the force’s reform agenda because, just as in Urban, senior commanders gave priority to meeting Home Office-imposed performance targets. The importance of an effective advocate for change with sufficient power, authority and energy to drive the change process has been highlighted in this thesis so it was perhaps inevitable that with the departure of the ACC, the momentum for change was lost. The principal analyst said that even though the NIM processes were in place: Two and a half years down the line, we still can’t get even the tactical tasking and coordination to work. We have a lot of structures in place and we have a lot of process but… we’re saying to ourselves that it doesn’t actually make a great deal of difference… You know, would it make a difference if we didn’t have it? The County elite’s commitment to the NIM and its understanding of what it truly was to be intelligence-led are brought into question by the principal analyst’s words. Though there was not the outright resistance to the model that there was in Urban, there was little appreciation of what NIM really meant for the force. County was one of the first forces to embrace the NIM and it might have been expected that the model would have 239 matured as the organising framework for ILP in this arena that its advocates anticipated. However, even the most basic of the NIM’s procedures failed to operate effectively and although there was lots of NIM-related activity, the model made a negligible impact on the business of the force. I argue that, once again, this demonstrates the way that police organisations prioritise being administratively competent over focusing on the benefits and outcomes of a particular policy (see Goldstein, 1979). As I discussed earlier in this study, since 1998 all forces have been expected to appoint a senior detective to the post of director of intelligence (DOI). The DOI should assume responsibility for all of the force’s intelligence functions. At the beginning of 2004, County’s elite appointed a detective superintendent (N032) as DOI. She tried to change the perception of the NIM in County but the impact she was able to make was extremely limited because senior commanders lacked the commitment to the substantial structural and cultural changes that the model required. Rather unusually (a priori, I argue, uniquely), the DOI’s responsibilities in County were limited to intelligence policy, the authorisation of covert policing activity by the detective force, and to managing the local intelligence units. As a member of the crime management department, she did not have management responsibility for the force’s intelligence analysts nor did she control the key intelligence resource, the FIB, which instead was managed by the head of the specialist detective department. All key intelligence functions above BCU level were managed by someone other than the DOI. To complicate the situation even further, she was of course separated from the person who should have been her key lieutenant, the force’s principal analyst (who remained in the corporate affairs department). The DOI (N032) attributed these irregularities to a successful coup by her immediate predecessor that was designed to put power in the hands of the specialist detectives. She summarised the difficulties that she faced in developing the force’s intelligence strategy thus. The principal analyst reported to ACC ‘A’. She wrote the NIM intelligence assessments for the force tasking meeting which also was controlled by ACC 240 ‘A’. The DOI and BCU intelligence units reported to ACC ‘B’. ACC ‘B’ separately ‘owned’ the specialist detective department (including the FIB) and the force surveillance assets. According to the DOI (N032), the result was poor communication, duplication and wasted effort because “If something came in that was vaguely NIM, vaguely intelligence, vaguely analytical, it would get tasked out three different ways”. The DOI (N032) said that she was slow to remedy this wholly unsatisfactory situation but she recognised that she had to resolve that constant conflict over intelligence issues with senior managers in the other departments. She wrote a force intelligence strategy (as required by her role - see HMIC, 1997), which aimed to resolve these difficulties and to ensure that intelligence actually supported the operational work of the force. However, she made extremely slow progress in persuading senior commanders to adopt her plans (which included the amalgamation of all the force’s intelligence functions into a new intelligence directorate). She said that senior commanders’ continuing emphasis on meeting Home Office targets made them reluctant to instigate the changes that were needed. The DOI took the initiative to kick-start the process, introducing a pilot scheme in one of County’s BCUs and briefing “virtually all the supervisors in the force” about the intelligence strategy and the NIM. She said that the success of the pilot eventually persuaded senior commanders to approve the introduction of the new strategy. In September 2006, the new intelligence directorate (which included all the force’s intelligence units and the principal analyst) was established with the DOI at its head. Interviewed at the end of this study, the DOI said that the new system had allowed her to introduce a formal quality assurance framework for intelligence and to bring a more consistent approach to adding value (through intelligence work) to operational policing in the mainstream. However, coming as it did at the end of the fieldwork, that statement was not tested in this research NIM at BCU Level in County 241 Just as in Urban, County’s BCU managers were largely unaware of the tensions around the NIM at the highest level of the force. The BCU SMT members interviewed, said that they welcomed it as a further development of the force’s ILP strategy. Despite the delay in implementing the NIM at the highest level, the model was quickly introduced to each of County’s BCUs. A BCU commander (N027) said that the NIM was welcomed unequivocally at that level because commanders felt it organised their business in a more effective way. Personally, he felt that the NIM could underpin a new body of knowledge, an institutional memory, for a police service which in his view, had “no tradition of any sort of professionalism”. He said that the NIM symbolised the police service’s desire to change. Though I argue that in that regard the commander’s analysis was flawed; the major problem for the NIM was that the actual proportion of the service that really wanted that change, was relatively small. The commander contrasted the service’s approach to its institutional memory, with that taken by the British Army: What are the courses at Bramshill for if you’re not just there to stare at your navel rather than look at a body of researched historical experience around policing? We never do that do we? You know, trying to work out what works. Who lectures at Bramshill? Generally, pretty hopeless people. If you go to the Army Staff College, the lecturers are the people that have won battles. Reflecting the Urban DOI’s (N098) earlier comments, the BCU commander (N027) hoped that the NIM would help to create a body of professional learning which could be called upon to provide a structure for operational work that would remove County’s reliance on ‘inspired individuals’ for results. In that regard, the commander was echoing the NCIS senior executive’s earlier demand for a policing doctrine. However, the police service does not necessarily speak with one voice on that subject (which, in my view, suggests that corpus of guidance notes, advice and directions should not be afforded the label ‘doctrine’). Earlier in this thesis, I referred to an ACPO member’s (N053) criticism of NCPE for writing doctrine in so complex a way that frontline staff could not understand it. Not one respondent in either case study had read this or any of the other NCPE doctrine documents 242 that related to the NIM so their understanding (or otherwise) of the content of the documents was not a factor. However, given that the 44 pages of this practice advice added to the more than 600 pages of pre-existing NIM doctrine, it is reasonable to suggest that the sheer volume of instruction and advice was an issue. I argue that so much information was overwhelming for staff who also had busy ‘day jobs’. The criticism of doctrine by Westminster Coroner Paul Knapman referred to earlier, that the senior intelligence official (N050) was right to fear the “programmed responses” that such guidance can deliver. The events surrounding Saunders’ death add real weight to Knapman’s further observation that officers should use "more common sense rather than slavish adherence to written documents and protocols”. The BCU commander (N027) said that because it described the social and policing environments within which he was operating, the NIM allowed him to better manage his business. He was a great advocate of the model and his support was evident in the way that he tried to embrace the NIM’s structures and processes. As much as anyone in County, he was the policy entrepreneur that the model needed. His support for local intelligence work was evident in his resourcing of his intelligence unit which was made up of approximately 35 staff performing broadly similar roles to their Urban counterparts. The unit was headed by a DI (who initially, was the only detective officer so employed, though later he was joined by a DS) but in a departure from the NIM ideal, the title of intelligence manager was given to a civilian member of staff who oversaw the day- to-day running of the unit. An intelligence researcher (N021) said that the unit suffered from a lack of continuity in management, that there had been continuous and ongoing change which “doesn’t help anybody”. He felt that problems with the unit went back to its creation in 2000. In his view, the unit was “given first aid when it needed surgery”. I argue that the researcher’s words could be applied to the whole system of local intelligence. The intelligence manager (N019) represented the unit at the NIM meetings. She said that she recognised that as a member of police staff, she was not qualified to make decisions on operational matters but she provided support to the unit’s police staff and 243 bridged the gap between those staff and the police officers in the BCU’s ‘intelligence world’. However, given her (admitted) lack of knowledge of operational policing, it could be argued that she was not able to mediate between the operational and intelligence worlds as well as the model required. Focus groups held with frontline BCU staff in this study were poorly attended so it was possible only to assess a limited range of views on the NIM from the uniformed branch. However, it was clear that the BCU commander’s views on the importance of the NIM to the policing mission had not been fully embraced on the frontline. Perhaps the youth and inexperience of the research respondents was a factor in that context but the similarity with the Urban case was obvious. Of the three patrol officers interviewed (N075, N076, and N077) the longest-serving had been a police officer for only 15 months. None of those officers expressed any view on the local intelligence unit nor did they possess any knowledge of the NIM. They were completely task-focused, their days taken up either with responding to emergency calls from the public or carrying out work allocated to them by the force control room. A ‘fire brigade’ or “AA or RAC patrolman” style of policing typically was the norm just as previous research has shown (see Bayley, 1994 and Waddington, 1983: 34 respectively). According to one of the officers (N075) “We do whatever’s in front of us”. A schools liaison officer (N074) had a rudimentary knowledge of the model. She said that she had read the ‘Blue Book’, the first version of the NIM but displayed little understanding of it. However, as a former collator, she had some understanding of the intelligence cycle and the fundamentals of intelligence work. She said that she applied them to her role as a schools officer; a substantial part of which was feeding intelligence on problem children and families to her operational colleagues via the intelligence unit. Just as in Urban, the intelligence unit staff broadly was supportive of the NIM. An intelligence researcher (N021) argued that it made the unit much more efficient and cost- effective whilst an intelligence manager (N019) welcomed the consistency and uniformity that the model brought. The senior analyst (N022) said that she was optimistic about the 244 effect of the NIM on the profile of intelligence and analysis in mainstream policing and on the SMT’s understanding of its policing problems but she could no more attribute any fall in crime levels or increases in detections to the model than others before her. She felt compelled to question the real influence of analysis on operational outcomes “because it’s still the same names coming… up all the time, the same crime issues we are dealing with all the time so are we actually any further forward than we were back in October 2001”. The senior analyst’s comments reinforce Amey et al’s (1996) and HMIC’s (1995) earlier observations on the limitations of ILP models like the NIM. Despite the claims made for it in terms of its ability to reduce the overall level of crime in a policing area, County’s senior commanders simply did not know what impact the NIM had on their business. The NIM Process in County This chapter now moves on to examine the model’s influence on intelligence work and investigation by examining those processes in County. Intelligence Collection in County There was a huge divide between County’s specialist detective force and the rest of County’s investigative resources. I argued earlier that the specialist force maintains a distance from the rest of the service and operates according to its own values and traditions. In County, the specialist detective force maintained complete control over its own operations but had gone a step further and enlisted County’s FIB as an auxiliary. The DOI (N032) said that the FIB worked almost exclusively for the specialist detective force and it took no part in the preparation of the NIM intelligence assessments for the wider force. At the BCU level, intelligence meetings were held according to the NIM timetable. The meetings departed from the NIM ideal in that all reported crime was discussed, rather than only those crime types that were included in the BCU’s control strategy and intelligence requirement. As a consequence, the intelligence meetings did not correspond 245 to the normative rules of the NIM. The senior analyst (N022) said that the unit focused on collecting intelligence around priority crime but this was not borne out by my own observations. During the course of the fieldwork for this study the commander adopted anti-social behaviour (ASB) as a BCU priority. This meant that the unit had to cast its net even more widely for intelligence. The BCU commander (N027) described his inclusion of ASB in the control strategy as “one of the most fundamental strategic decisions this force and I have made in terms of resource deployment”. He said that the decision demonstrated his personal commitment to public reassurance and there is no doubt that it represented a significant change in focus for the BCU. For her part, the senior analyst (N022) was not convinced that the inclusion of ASB in the control strategy was justified by her intelligence analyses. Of course, the requirement to collect more data also contributed to the “overloading” of the BCU’s intelligence databases (described later in this chapter by an intelligence analyst (N023)). Notwithstanding the senior analyst’s findings, according to the commander (N027), his “professional judgement” was that meeting the needs of his communities took precedence over the intelligence assessment. Coming from someone who had expressed such support for intelligence analysis, the commander’s statement that this decision reflected a need for “more sophisticated” intelligence products was surprising. However, it also emphasises that even the most ‘enlightened’ commander may exercise their prerogative to take decisions regardless of intelligence assessments. I argue that what is important is that they are held to account for those decisions and that, properly implemented, the NIM would deliver that level of accountability. Collation, Analysis and Evaluation in County Just as in the Urban BCU, analytical activity was organised around focus desks. However, rather than being delineated by crime type as in Urban, four focus desks represented each of the BCU’s Crime and Disorder Reduction Partnerships (CDRPs). The senior analyst 246 (N022) said that intelligence analysis was central to the work of the focus desks. Analysts applied some of the nine NIM analytical techniques to the crime and crime-related data collected by the force. As in City, crime pattern analysis and network analysis were the techniques used most frequently. The SARA model was used extensively. Innes et al (2003: 14) have suggested that analytical products may be “subject to objectification and reification by the officers who they are provided to” but this was not the common experience in either case. The County DOI (N032) said the NIM’s ‘demystification’ of analytical products misled commanders to believe that they needed to demonstrate their knowledge (and control) by specifying the product that they needed rather than allowing the analyst to decide on the most appropriate product for themselves. However, all the analysts interviewed in County agreed that it was their credibility that was the central factor in this debate. If an analyst was considered credible, they were allowed to decide on appropriate techniques without interference. Cope et al, 2003: 35) found that officers did not wholly trust analysts or the work that analysts produced and that “resulted in them failing to take sufficient care in forwarding high quality information to the analysts”. The NIM did not seem to make very much difference to that cultural conflict. Loveday (2005: 6) has suggested that the failure of police officers to recognise the value of police staff is a wider issue that may suggest “a continuing cultural problem” of the kind explored earlier. He noted that the negative perceptions of police staff amongst junior officers previously identified by HMIC (HMIC, 2004), may be encouraged by hostility to them at the highest levels of the service. A continuing antipathy between operational police officers and civilian intelligence staff may perhaps be inferred from the statements of Urban’s intelligence staff in the previous chapter. In that case the intelligence unit was seen as taking up resources that otherwise could be used in the ‘real’ policing of the streets. In this case, the hostility to civilian staff was overt and pointed to a continuing cultural divide in policing. 247 Two analysts (N023 and N024) said that they were often seen by police officers simply as people who could provide IT support or act as minute takers. Though both noted that their relations with colleagues outside the intelligence unit improved as they became more skilled, they commented on the challenge of convincing police officers to accept their analyses (the scepticism of police officers in this context has previously been described by, for example, Cope, 2008). The senior analyst (N022) said that in time, some of the analysts’ concerns were addressed by the introduction of a formal process that obliged officers to explain and justify their requests for analytical support. However, planning meetings continued to test analysts’ patience and fortitude. One analyst (N023) said that when she attended the fortnightly Operational Planning Group (OPG) meeting, her judgement was often mistrusted and her reports were routinely ignored so that future priorities were decided without any reference to her analytical products.38 This left her feeling demoralised and frustrated. On one occasion, she asked those present whether in future, rather than writing the tactical assessment, she “could just go and do something else”. A second analyst (N024) also expressed concerns over the meeting. She said, “I used to go to OPG and it was just a chance to rip the analyst to pieces. It was horrendous”. OPG might have been the ‘worst’ example of police officers’ belligerence but other interactions with officers could be equally challenging. She said: We go to meetings and we just get ridiculed, laughed at, continuously spoken over when we are trying to present our work. Spoken down to, to the point that I’ve had to have a chief inspector come and apologise to me for the way he has treated me in a meeting because it was so blatantly rude. That I would say is the main problem in our job. The first analyst (N023) conceded that lacking experience of operational policing, she and her colleagues sometimes struggled to balance analytical theory with police practice. She said that there were occasions when some officers may have had justification 38 Operational Planning Group meetings took place fortnightly in each CDRP. They were attended by the police community team, the CDRP analyst and the borough’s Crime Reduction Manager. At the end of the research period they were replaced by Joint Action Groups (JAGs) which were attended by a wider range of partners. 248 for believing that, despite her evidence-based recommendations, they might still know the best way to solve the particular problem under discussion. However, the attitudes and behaviours described by the respondents in this research suggested that sworn officers sometimes made it only too clear to civilian staff that their views were not valued. I have highlighted both in this chapter and in the other case, the need for an effective and credible intelligence manager to support the intelligence unit’s police staff and to bridge the gap between those staff and the ‘operational world’. The events described by the analysts in this section demonstrate the vital importance of that role and the consequences when the manager does not provide that. Just as in Urban, the techniques used most frequently were network analysis and crime pattern analysis. These have been described as “core business” for analysts (senior intelligence official, N050). Given the difficulty of assessing the success of ILP models like the NIM (described elsewhere in this thesis and by, for example, Amey et al, 1996); the fact that results analysis was rarely used was disappointing. The consensus amongst the analysts was that other demands on their time meant that they could not reflect on the consequences of operational activity but they felt that not being consulted early enough in proactive operations also was a factor. Whatever the reason, normative expectations of the intelligence cycle were frustrated. In particular, just as in Urban, the feedback loop that is fundamental to the model was broken. I contend that this only adds weight to my argument in the other case study that the NIM did not make BCUs any smarter in evaluating their operational endeavours in this period. Presentation of Evidence in County The difficulties in separating the measurement of performance from operational outcomes extended to the preparation of the force strategic assessment. The principal analyst (N026) said that initially the force assessment was an organisational rather than a strategic assessment. That is, that the finished document contained priorities identified by the force 249 elite (‘top-down’), rather than an evidence-based analysis of County’s policing problems identified by its intelligence officers and analysts (‘bottom-up’), as envisaged by the NIM. She questioned the intelligence value of a document that senior commanders authored themselves. She said that the document was not an intelligence assessment; instead “it was just a long list of all the issues” that concerned senior commanders. With her guidance, it evolved to include a greater ‘bottom-up’ element but at the time this research was carried out, the document afforded the title of ‘strategic assessment’ remained a top-down list of priorities. The problems described therein represented the 24 policing priorities identified by County’s elite more often on the basis of performance data than on the basis of intelligence products. The principal analyst (N026) said that she developed the assessment to be more focused and evidence-based. However, she had not been able to shift senior commanders from their position. The NIM recommends a bottom-up approach as a way of ensuring that emerging trends are identified (discussed elsewhere in this thesis). However ‘top-down’ analyses of problems are common in policing and County were not alone in adopting this alternative approach albeit that the hazards attached to it should have been obvious to commanders. I have commented at several points in this thesis that the police are not willing to embrace any form of priority-setting that puts the work of analysts at the forefront of their endeavours. I argue that the setting of priorities in County in a way that rejected the normative values of the NIM, just as in Urban, adds weight to that argument. I will argue that ultimately this was a significant factor in the failure of the model. Senior commanders’ continuing focus on those issues that were of greatest concern to them rather than to local communities (usually because they had a significant bearing on performance) was raised by many in this case study (including the local authority CRM, N09 and a County chief inspector, N029). County’s DOI (N032) wanted intelligence work to reflect the concerns of communities. In her view, information about ASB was equally as important as information about organised crime even if it “just goes off in different directions and we prioritise it slightly differently and risk-assess it slightly differently”. 250 She believed that (just as in Urban) County had to overcome its paternalistic “mother knows best attitude” to its partners and allow them to play a greater part in decisions over priorities. Foster (2002) highlighted that in their partnerships with local authorities, the police often have presented themselves as experts and have been reluctant to cede control to others. The DOI’s words suggest that attitude is still prevalent in policing. The local authority’s CRM (N09) also expressed concern over the assessments. At 100 or so pages, the documents were “far too long... packed with police jargon” and had improved only marginally over time. They lacked the “richness” of other data sources such as: “census data: the local authority’s ASB data; CCTV data; data regarding vandalism on estates; safer routes to school, truancy data and school attainment data, and road traffic data”. He said that the police needed to see “the bigger, wider picture”; the link between the environment and people’s wellbeing. The force assessment was “not within the spirit of partnership... and not fit for purpose” because “the process is managing the people”. Foster (2002: 174) has argued that practitioners may construct an “assumed and oversimplified world” that ultimately may sabotage efforts to work with communities and establish effective partnerships. The categories of data that the CRM (N09) was referring to would allow the police to construct a much better balanced intelligence assessment and were just the kind of data that advocates of the NIM wanted the police to collect. I argue that the failure to do so was yet another example of the police’s inability to break out of that investigative orthodoxy (an adherence to traditional, largely reactive, practice) that I described earlier and of their failure to establish the structure required by the architects of the NIM. The DOI (N032) said that she had worked hard to persuade the County elite of the merits of the NIM. She believed that the new force intelligence strategy was focusing operational activity more effectively, although senior commanders still demonstrated a degree of autonomy “because the chief constable is the chief constable”, which suggests that for all policing has changed since Reiner (1991) wrote his seminal text Chief 251 Constables, even the most enlightened chief officer may from time to time exhibit the characteristics of a ‘Baron’.39 At the BCU level, County’s analysts compiled all of the assessments required by the NIM. As the only one to have attended a strategic analysis course, the senior intelligence analyst (N022) took sole responsibility for producing the strategic assessments. She said that the finished product took a “huge amount of effort” and this was evident in the assessments seen in this study which ranged between 61 and 69 pages of data analysis, evaluation and control strategy recommendations. The senior analyst said that she received excellent feedback on her assessments from the principal analyst and from Centrex but, just like the senior analyst in Urban and the local CRM; she felt that they were too long and too complex. Despite her reservations, the assessment met the BCU commander’s needs and, of course, the latter prevailed. The strategic assessments seen in this study typically provided a picture of the long-term issues affecting the BCU but they relied heavily on police and performance data and opportunities to access a wider range of sources generally were ignored. The senior analyst (N022) recognised this as potentially problematic. She was more unhappy about the way that control strategy priorities were agreed, reproving herself for allowing her BCU commander to decide them before the document was published so that “my recommendations were in fact theirs”. This of course was exactly the same complaint that was made by the senior analyst in Urban and by County’s principal analyst (N026). Just like her Urban counterpart, the County analyst felt this undermined her credibility because the priorities did not match the intelligence picture. Interviewed at the end of the research, she said that she eventually had persuaded the commander to take more account of her recommendations. However, her words add yet more weight to the argument that the NIM struggled to overcome those established values of the dominant occupational culture and the hierarchical tradition of the police organisation. 39 Reiner (1991: 306) characterised chief constables as either ‘Barons, Bobbies, Bosses or Bureaucrats’. The Baron inter alia likes to lead from the front and to be obeyed. 252 Consultation with Partners in County Unlike Urban, County held a force NIM strategic meeting. It was chaired by County’s Deputy Chief Constable (DCC). Many members of the force elite were present. They were joined by senior managers from the specialist detective force, senior detectives, County’s BCU commanders, the force’s DOI (N032) and the principal analyst (N026). Partners were represented by the chair of the local police authority (N011), the local authority CRM (N09), representatives of the local Crimestoppers organisation and members of local drugs action and youth offending teams and the probation service. This suggests that the County elite was more supportive of the NIM than its Urban counterpart. However, as the reader will see, this did not necessarily translate into meaningful outcomes. There were two distinct phases to the meeting. The first was given over to a presentation of the strategic assessment by the principal analyst. After this, the partners (including the chair of the police authority) left the meeting to the police ‘professionals’. It was in this second phase that most of the key decisions about investigative pathways and the allocation of resources were made. Interviewed in 2006, the chair of County’s police authority (N011) spoke positively about his relationship with the force elite but expressed his reservations about the structure of this meeting. Reflecting Shapland’s (1998 and 2000) and Crawford’s (2001) arguments about the ability of criminal justice agencies to maintain control over their own fiefdoms, the chair (N011) believed that the division demonstrated that despite the community-focused rhetoric, the police wanted to set limits on partnership working. They still wanted to separate the ‘professional’ from the lay perspectives. He noted: I’m not sure what the gain is from them having it in two parts. I think they would probably get a better buy-in, better engagement, if they ran it as a general meeting… I think there is too much mystique, too much mystery. You know ‘let’s keep the public out. This is professional, this is ours’. Police respondents believed that dividing the meeting in this way helped senior commanders to develop County’s crime strategy, to formulate action, and to identify force leads. They did not anticipate that the division would cause any concerns for partners. 253 However, the chair of the police authority (N011) said that by keeping too much of its work secret, County limited real public engagement. He said that senior commanders should be exploiting every opportunity to gain “insights” into policing problems from their partners, and that partners’ exclusion from the most important phase of the strategic meeting indicated that senior commanders did not afford those community insights the importance they deserved. Under the existing arrangements, partners could not be convinced that their views were being properly considered. He questioned whether County simply was paying lip service to the notion of public engagement as “a box ticking function”. The relationship between force elites and police authorities has been much debated. Reiner (2005: 682-683) argued that in this period the lack of “adequate local accountability has been a major factor undermining police legitimacy”. In County, the police authority chair’s failure to confront senior commanders over their monopoly on decision-making in this context may reveal something about how the police have managed to maintain their spheres of control. Reiner (1991) is but one of many researchers who have questioned whether police authorities have any meaningful influence on chief constables in relation to the framing of policy (See also Savage et al, 2000; Wall, 1998; Savage et al, 1996; and Loveday, 1991). In this case, even though the NIM provided a forum for the chair of the police authority to question a decision that he was unhappy with, and arguably had the power to challenge if not change, he spurned the opportunity which lent weight to the argument that police authorities have been the architects of their own limited influence (Jones and Newburn, 1997). In my view, this demonstrated the persistence in that context of the “compliance culture” in which police authority members either find it too difficult or otherwise are unable to challenge chief officers, which was first identified 14 years ago by Jones and Newburn (1997 cited in Wall, 1998: 83). That is, some 10 years before this research was carried out. Wall’s argument that changes to the accountability arrangements wrought by the PMCA (intended to encourage more effective partnerships between the police authority, chief officer and the Home Office) were unlikely to result in police authorities 254 becoming “anything more than junior partners” in those partnerships had real validity in the County case. Strategic tasking at the local level was a much more focused and inclusive affair in the County BCU selected for study, than that observed either at the elite level in County or at BCU level in Urban. Two of the three strategic meetings held during the period of the study were observed. The BCU commander (N027) explained that he wanted to embed the NIM processes to such a degree that each successive year’s plan would represent “exactly the same picture of fundamental business process”. Each strategic meeting was chaired by the commander and in each case the strategic assessment was presented by the senior analyst. However, it was there that the similarities between the County and Urban meetings ended. Whereas in Urban the meeting was open to a wide range of attendees, attendance in County was limited to senior managers and key decision-makers. The first BCU meeting observed was attended by the SMT, the senior analyst, chief executives of the local authorities in the BCU’s area, the criminal justice unit manager and a representative of the force’s corporate communications department. In County, there was the same obsession with performance in the context of priority crime as there was in Urban. The senior analyst (N022) began each meeting with an overview of the crime recorded by the BCU in the last period and continued with a presentation of the control strategy priorities. She explained what was meant by the term ‘control strategy’ and described the process by which it had been prepared. In stark contrast to what had taken place in the Urban meeting, she stressed that the future operational focus of the BCU was up for discussion adding “that’s why we need your involvement”. The process by which the control strategy was decided was questioned by one of the local authority chief executives (N099) but he appeared to be satisfied with the BCU commander’s explanation that he had set the priorities based on the information contained in the intelligence assessment prepared by the senior analyst and on his own professional judgement. 255 Interviewed after this first meeting, the other local authority chief executive (N010) said that his relationship with the BCU commander was “a real partnership arrangement”. Referring to the control strategy, the second chief executive (N010) said that (just like the chair of the police authority) he was happy to leave decisions on operational priorities to the professional judgement of the police. He said: We might not set their priorities, I’m not sure I’d want to, but equally I think that the kind of relationship that we have here… is that there’s enough trust for them to come and talk about their priorities and this is what we like to do. Gilling (2005: 737) has argued that “trust may be the most important commodity in establishing good working relations”. Both the local authority chief executive (N010) and the BCU commander (N027) stressed the significance of building trust in the context of their work together and they recognised the importance of their personal relationship. However, they both highlighted that they wanted to establish an underpinning structure that encouraged and sustained business relationships. I argue that, properly implemented, the NIM could provide a suitably viable structure for those relationships. Just as at force level, the BCU commander (N027) had established a practice of holding the strategic meeting over two sessions; one attended by the police and the other drawing in partners. However, during the period of this research, the commander identified that the structure limited participation in the decision-making process. He changed the structure and content of the meeting so that attendance at the second meeting observed was limited to key police decision-makers and partners and was completed in a single session (therefore the meeting was exactly as envisaged by the NIM’s architects). That meeting was attended by the police SMT, the senior analyst, two local authority chief executives, six members of the police authority and three local councillors. For the first meeting, the BCU’s control strategy comprised ‘the usual suspects’ of burglary, robbery, violent crime, street crime, class ‘A’ drug supply and theft from motor vehicles. Twelve months later, it had developed so that it included ASB and criminal damage, violent crime (particularly alcohol-related violence in town centres), personal robbery, dwelling burglary, vehicle crime and class ‘A’ drug supply (County BCU, 2006: 30). 256 In this second meeting the BCU commander (N027) rather than the senior intelligence analyst (N022) took more obvious ownership of the BCU’s plans for the next period by presenting the control strategy. This generated much more discussion than previously and this seemed to make the meeting more of a coming together of equals. However, in another example of the ‘compliance culture’, it was noticeable that partners continued to defer to the ‘professional judgement’ of the police and their influence on the decision-making process was as limited as it was on the first occasion. The BCU strategic meeting provided a useful forum for information-sharing and consultation but other consultative arrangements also were in place. For example, each month the BCU commander (N027) briefed the chief executive of the county council and every two months he met the chief executives of the borough councils at the Responsible Authorities Meeting (RAG) which was attended by officials from the county council, borough council, the police authority, the local fire service and the local primary healthcare trust. The BCU commander (N027) suggested that he and the local authority chief executives within the BCU area understood that they were working together for a common purpose. On the same subject, the chief inspector with responsibility for a CDRP (N028) commented rather more colourfully that he and his corresponding chief executive recognised that they were “both standing on the same burning bridge” and needed the NIM to provide that sustaining framework that I described earlier. To summarise, at the highest level NIM strategic meetings, though there was not the level of resistance to the model observed in Urban, operational priorities were decided in the traditional manner. The police alone decided how resources would be distributed and it was clear that the NIM had not overcome the established values of the occupational culture or the hierarchical tradition of the police organisation. Both the chair of the police authority and the local authority’s CSM questioned the police’s strategic decision-making process. Arguably, the significant difference between the two was that the chair of the police authority possessed the executive authority to at least challenge the process. 257 However, in the event, the ‘compliance culture’ that had developed meant that neither attempted to remedy the defects that they observed. At the local level, the BCU commander’s enthusiasm for the NIM was evident. He had established and was maintaining clear lines of communication with both the police authority and the local authority and for their parts, the representatives of each expressed their complete support for the commander and the NIM process. However, as cordial and participative as they were, the meetings did not operate according to the normative rules of the model (as set out in the NIM Code of Practice – see NCPE, 2005a) because, just as in Urban, decisions over priorities and resources were taken in the traditional manner outside the meeting by the BCU commander and his staff. Therefore, those meetings did not represent the inclusive decision-making forums idealised by the NIM’s advocates. NIM tactical meetings were held each fortnight at force and at county levels. The force tactical meeting is discussed more fully in the next section. Briefly, the principal analyst (N026) said that there was no consultation with partners at these meetings as none were invited. In the BCU selected for study, the BCU commander (N027) chaired the meeting and the senior analyst (N022) presented the tactical assessment but otherwise County’s tactical meeting was in complete contrast with the tactical meeting held in Urban. Attendance at the County meeting was consistent and was limited to the SMT and middle management. No representatives of partner agencies attended any of the five meetings observed. In other words, in terms of its attendance, the tactical meeting was conducted in exactly the same manner as it always had been and otherwise than in accordance with the normative rules of the NIM (set out in its code of practice). Monitoring Problems in County I have argued at several points that there is a cultural divide in policing which separates the CID and the uniform branch. That divide has existed almost as long as there has been a detective force. I argue that it has been exacerbated by the expansion of the specialist detective squads and undermines the policing mission in the mainstream. At the end of the 258 last century, researchers found that specialist detectives were able to distance themselves from internal scrutiny of their work and that the assistance that they offered to frontline policing was extremely limited. Chatterton (2008) argued that the promotion of ILP and the NIM led to the privileging of the specialist detective force over the rest of the service and also the under- resourcing of criminal investigation in mainstream policing. He suggested that the promotion of ILP in general and the NIM in particular led to the development of “a new dynamic” in the “squad imperative” (discussed earlier in this thesis). In Chatterton’s research, detective respondents referred repeatedly to the “haemorrhaging of detective experience and expertise through transfers and long-term secondments” to specialist detective squads and the prioritisation of the needs of those squads over the needs of their divisional colleagues (2008: viii). I argued at the beginning of this study, that for many years a form of class system (with the specialist detective force at its apex) has existed in policing to the detriment of the police organisation. Chatterton’s research points up one of the greatest paradoxes of the NIM; the model was forced through with some vigour at the BCU level yet the specialist detective force was permitted to ignore it, which resulted in the model being implemented only partially and half-heartedly across forces. The police service’s failure to use the NIM to harness the expertise of its specialist detectives for the benefit of mainstream policing mirrors its earlier failure to grasp what it truly meant to be intelligence-led. I argued earlier that police commanders in the mainstream seemed content to accept the management data that was a by-product of the administrative function associated with ILP but were unwilling or unable to deploy the resources needed to secure positive investigative outcomes. In County, the force’s tactical meeting provided compelling evidence of that unwillingness or inability, and of the tensions Chatterton (2008) described. County’s DOI (N032) explained the conduct of that meeting. It was meant to provide an opportunity for both the force’s specialist detective units and its BCUs to bid for the force’s headquarters-based resources (such as surveillance). However, she said that the two did not meet on a level playing field because 259 the FIB and the other specialist detective units had developed a covert, cooperative, relationship that worked to their mutual benefit and disadvantaged County’s BCUs. Those units held their own meetings in advance of the main forum so that they were able to monopolise the force’s proactive assets. The limited proactive resources of the force usually were deployed against serious and organised crime (which may have been perfectly proper) but there was never any real debate about the challenges faced by BCUs. This demonstrated that just, as in Urban, there was a refusal on the part of the County elite to rethink their approach to operational policing. The principal analyst (N026) said that whether this was an appropriate use of County’s scarce resources was never really considered and the investigative resources that might have been available to County’s BCU’s simply were dispersed elsewhere without any real discussion. Her comments mirror Morgan et al’s (1996) observations about the lack of real debate in the police service on the continuing utility of the squad system and also, once again, demonstrate the durability of the established occupational culture and the hierarchical tradition of policing. The principal analyst (N026) wondered why nobody was prepared to challenge what she termed this ‘investigative orthodoxy’ which seemed to operate to the detriment of the wider force. By the normative rules of the NIM, the tasking meeting chair should have taken account of the demands on the whole force; to ensure that its limited resources were allocated to the priorities identified by the force intelligence assessments rather than those identified by the specialist detectives and to deliver that ‘whole service’ policing response that Phillips envisaged the model would deliver. However, certainly during the research period, there was not enough of a challenge to the power of the detectives. The perpetuation of the ‘closed shop’, described by the senior analyst, meant that BCUs were unable to obtain additional resources even when they had a pressing need for them. The DOI (N032) explained that the specialist CID controlled the tasking process to such a degree that if a BCU put in a request for assistance, it would be blocked before the force tasking meeting. The effect was that BCUs just “wouldn’t bother any more”. The principal analyst (N026) agreed with the DOI and said that BCU representatives failed to 260 make bids for assistance because they thought “well what’s the point, it’s only going to get knocked back anyway”. The DOI (N032) said that lacking this central support, BCUs had been forced to become self sufficient and to develop their own strategies (which rarely included proactive investigations). One can only speculate whether the commanders’ failure to challenging the force elite to limit the influence of the specialist detectives was an example of their innate conservatism or a general reflection of the difficulty of challenging senior officers. Whatever the reason, local commanders did what they thought best served their own needs. The result was that County’s specialist detectives carried on unimpeded, and the force’s intelligence structures developed so that they lacked both a corporate identity and a common method of working. I argued earlier in this thesis that senior commanders have always afforded the specialist detective force the freedom to operate independently in the ways described in this chapter. In my view, this case shows that senior commanders have continued to give priority to the resourcing of the specialist detective force over mainstream policing into the modern era. In County, the principal analyst (N026) saw this simply as ‘investigative orthodoxy’, doing things the way they always had done but there may be good reason for that orthodoxy. Senior commanders have always been able to rely upon the specialist detective force as that ‘safe pair of hands’ that they can call upon to rescue almost any situation. In interview, a chief inspector (N028) colourfully described the specialist detective force as policing’s “Praetorian Guard – ready and willing to march out and save Caesar” whenever it was needed. County’s commanders seemed to have little enthusiasm for any change to that status quo. Though the force tactical meeting departed from the normative rules and values of the NIM (as set out in its Code), the BCU’s meeting operated much more closely to the NIM ideal than any other arrangements observed in this research. At the beginning of each BCU meeting, the local commander (N027) reviewed the actions he had previously allocated and held the plan holders to account for their operational plans. The meeting did not progress, until the results obtained were explained to his satisfaction. All the proactive 261 resources available to the BCU were tasked from the tactical meeting. The sole exception to this rule was the BCU’s ‘crime car’ which was usually tasked from the daily management meeting. It was noticeable that, just as in the Urban case, in none of the meetings observed, was any reference made to obtaining the assistance of the force’s specialist detectives or other law enforcement agencies such as SOCA. The BCU commander (N027) said that he had worked to get the right people at the meeting. This meant that he needed only to press “one button” if he wanted something to be done. In the meetings observed, each element of the control strategy was discussed in turn. This was followed by a discussion of “non-control strategy” items, ‘special’ events (such as football matches and music festivals) and the BCU’s intelligence requirement. Meetings always ended with a formal tasking of the BCU’s tactical resources and a final iteration of the meeting’s key points by the commander. The overriding impression was of a very structured and focused process that achieved exactly what the BCU commander (and indeed, the NIM) intended. The commander was keen to emphasise, what I argue is very much a majority view in policing, that any BCU commander’s freedom to deploy his or her tactical resources, was limited by the ordinary expectations of the police as an emergency public service. The challenge for commanders was to carry out those routine policing functions (referred to by a CDRP chief inspector (N028) as “the background policing” and by Goldstein (1979: 238) as “the conglomeration of unrelated, ill-defined, and often inseparable jobs that the police are expected to handle”) but also to bring “relatively small” resources to bear against high- priority areas. He believed that “85-90 percent” of police business would be carried on irrespective of any attempt to manage it strategically. He explained: It is all about focus… In effect there’s just loads of stuff happening which you have no control over, detectives going to scenes, SOCOs going out, officers arresting people… You don’t really have control. What I think the essence of the NIM is - is the 15% that you can control, we do control in terms of resources and where you place your emphasis in terms of tackling crime. These were particularly revealing comments in this study because they came from an avowed supporter of the NIM, who had demonstrated real commitment to the model’s 262 aims in encouraging the greater involvement of partners in his operational decisions. They suggest that even though the commander was open to a degree of change in the BCU’s policing style, he was not prepared to contemplate modifying his patrol or investigative strategies. I have argued at several points in this thesis that in the policing mainstream the service is locked into an investigative orthodoxy that prevents it from using its intelligence and investigative resources in the most effective, efficient and economic ways. I argue that the commander’s comments provide further evidence to support that argument and for all his claimed commitment to the model (albeit those claims were made in good faith), they demonstrate that there were always limits on the extent to which the NIM would be applied in County. The CDRP chief inspector (N028) said that despite the BCU’s workforce being comparable to that of the smaller police forces in Britain, its tactical capability was limited and was far from “the huge pot of tactical resources” that others might imagine. He said that those resources amounted to one inspector, four sergeants and 30 constables. He said that the BCU also was able to deploy its roads policing units to certain defined tasks (such as road checks and road blocks in high-crime areas) but their primary objective was road safety and the BCU was reluctant to over-use them outside that role. The BCU commander (N027) said that shortage of resources demanded that those available had to be targeted against the BCU’s priorities. The really crucial question in this context was ‘How should those priorities be decided’? This was exactly the question that the NIM was designed to answer. NIM and Neighbourhood Policing A CDRP chief inspector (N029) said that initially the NIM processes seemed to work well in County. However, there was tension between the force’s neighbourhood policing programme and the NIM because the requirements of one detracted from the other (for exactly the same reasons outlined in the Urban case). He believed that in County those tensions were exacerbated by the fact that each CDRP had its own philosophy and way of 263 working. He said that although both County and its police authority wanted to drive down the overall level of crime, nobody had spelt out what that meant in terms of the relative importance of the NIM and the neighbourhood policing programme and the relationship between the two. He said that whilst the model encouraged a commitment to crime reduction “across the board’, the BCU commander was more concerned to achieve a reduction in priority crime and that meant the NIM (as it was applied in County) would always be in conflict with neighbourhood policing with its emphasis on local problems (even though the model was conceived in such a way that it would accommodate both). A second CDRP chief inspector (N028) said that he was concerned that the NIM did not take account of the crime reduction targets set for CDRPs. Instead it sought to meet priority crime targets such as “sanction detections”. He felt that the NIM made the BCU more focused, so that it was “pointing all the ships the same way” (a rather interesting way to describe the ‘whole service’ approach) but he was concerned that applying the model in its purest form ultimately would mean that the needs of communities were disregarded. He said that it was “unfortunate” that the same amount of energy expended on the introduction of neighbourhood policing had not been put into the NIM so that the tension between the two “which should have been obvious” could have been resolved from the outset. Oakensen et al (2002) argued that at a conceptual level there is no such tension, the NIM can provide a framework within which neighbourhood policing may operate but forces struggled to reconcile the two. In 2006, ACPO issued Practice Advice on Professionalising the Business of Neighbourhood Policing, which was intended to “integrate neighbourhood policing into mainline (sic) policing by adopting the principles of NIM” (NCPE, 2006: 6). However, this did not appear to have garnered much attention in the research cases and, certainly, nobody seemed to understand that there should be no conflict between the two. County’s Intelligence Architecture 264 An intelligence unit analyst (N023) felt that the NIM allowed her to make “informed” rather than “random” decisions. A second analyst (N024) said that the NIM had the potential to make the BCU more intelligence-led. However, she highlighted that this relied on the BCU receiving “good quality intelligence” which it generally lacked. An intelligence researcher (N021) said that the increasing fragmentation of the BCU’s staff (into the cell team, tactical teams, intervention team, etc.) had meant that it was even more difficult to get good intelligence into the system because of poor communication between the teams and the intelligence unit. He said that the unit took what intelligence it was given because it would take too much time to train frontline staff. The second analyst (N024) said the result was that even though the intelligence system was continually overloaded with information it had very little value. She said, for example, that she had received just 17 pieces of intelligence on dwelling burglaries (a control strategy priority) over a 6-month period. This ‘clogging up’ of the intelligence system with extraneous information was also a problem in Urban and across the police service (see Cope et al, 2003). Moreover, this was one of the major complaints about the old collator system (see for example Wilmer, 1970). This highlights that the change from the collator’s card indices to computerised databases did not necessarily bring the filtering or the focus that was needed. However, and perhaps more importantly in the context of this research, it also demonstrates that commanders are very poor at conveying their priorities and intelligence requirements to their staff (at its simplest, the failure to tell people what information you want, is almost bound to mean that they do not collect it). At the very least it indicates that County’s internal communication was not as efficient as it needed to be. A CDRP chief inspector (N029) felt that an intelligence void had developed because the service profile of the force had changed so much. Older detectives, wedded to traditional reactive practice, did not want to change. Younger uniformed officers simply did not understand the intelligence cycle. All of the uniformed officers interviewed said that they understood the need to pass information to the intelligence unit but the training 265 that they had received largely was limited to the inputting of information to County’s intelligence database. The schools liaison officer (N074) was the only one of the four able to articulate why that might be important. In Urban, uniformed officers had been contemptuous of the local intelligence unit. However, in County the majority of uniform officers interviewed simply had no opinion either of the unit or of intelligence. This should have been of concern to the SMT. Relationships inside the intelligence unit generally were harmonious. However, the senior analyst (N022) said that the relationship between the civilian intelligence manager (N019) and the police FIOs was problematic. The tension between the manager and the FIOs was symptomatic of the kind of cultural tensions I described earlier. The FIOs, fully trained and experienced sworn police officers, were responsible for overseeing the proactive operations that emanated from the unit and for liaising with the CID or uniformed investigators. The senior analyst (N022) said that the FIOs resented being tasked by the civilian intelligence manager even though she was the administrative head of the unit. The senior analyst (N022) said that the FIOs also complained about the increasing civilianisation of the unit. For example, the recruitment of a new assistant analyst was questioned by the FIOs. Jones and Newburn (1997) have argued that there may be a variety of motives for the civilianisation of police posts. Commonly, posts in intelligence work are civilianised because it is felt that they can be filled more economically by civilians and the sworn officers they replace can be released to operational duties. Respondents in both cases questioned whether the balance of intelligence units had been allowed to tip too far so that the proactive capability of the intelligence unit was limited by the lack of sworn officers available to develop information. However, Jones and Newburn (1997) highlighted that for the police civilianisation has always meant growth. The increasing civilianisation of intelligence work may explain, at least in part, the size of modern local intelligence units. The senior analyst said that there was a noticeable change in the officers’ attitudes when, in a change of policy, the civilian intelligence manager (N019) was promoted out of the unit and was replaced by a 266 detective sergeant. As this change was made towards the end of the study period, the reason for it was not fully explored. However, the antipathy between police and civilian staff described here may well have been a factor. In County, some training was provided for some staff. The intelligence manager (N019) attended Centrex’s National Intelligence Manager’s Course. The senior analyst (N022) and all of the unit’s analysts completed the National Intelligence Analysts Training (NIAT) or the alternative Research and Intelligence Support Centre (RISC) courses. They also completed a variety of short developmental courses. One of the analysts (N023) said that though she had attended the former, she had not received any training in the basics of intelligence work. Another analyst (N024) attended the RISC course but found that it ignored the practicalities of the work and the production of the NIM’s key intelligence products. The extent to which anyone can learn a job simply by attending a training course is debatable and that was recognised by both the principal intelligence analyst (N026) and the senior analyst (N022) who at their respective levels provided ongoing support programmes for analysts and other intelligence staff. However, there was evidence that despite their best efforts, problems remained. In a further example of the shortcomings of the police’s intelligence structures, a local authority analyst tasked with collecting incident data for the county council (N08) admitted that he regularly received police data that breached the ‘need to know’ principle and that in some cases revealed personal data or sensitive personal data (within the meaning specified by the Data Protection Act 1998). This included data that identified police sources, that had not been accurately risk assessed and that was transmitted without regard for the GPMS. I argue that this demonstrates that, just as in Urban, despite County’s efforts to professionalise their intelligence processes, some fundamental inefficiencies lingered. Summary of Analysis 267 This chapter has shown that just as in Urban, County failed to implement the NIM in its purest form. I have argued that there was not the outright resistance to the model at the elite level that was evident in Urban, but efforts to establish it at force level were hamstrung by: senior commanders’ failure to grasp what it truly meant to be intelligence-led; by an over-emphasis on performance rather than on outcomes; and by what one respondent termed ‘investigative orthodoxy’ – doing things the way that they had always been done. The lack of an effective champion for intelligence work and for the NIM at the highest level, and also the force’s neighbourhood policing programme were significant factors in that failure. Not one respondent in County questioned the appropriateness of the NIM to their work. In fact, there was a complete absence of challenge to the model. In my view, that says much more about the police hierarchy and the difficulty that staff have in challenging senior officers than it does about their real feelings about the NIM. On the surface, the NIM seemed to have contributed positively to the development of County’s consultative arrangements with policing partners. However, Senior commanders maintained full control over policing strategies, limiting partners’ involvement in decision-making forums. Partners’ willingness to defer to the ‘professional judgement’ of the police suggested that they too were locked into outmoded organisational cultures and traditions. At the elite level, there was an obvious tension between meeting performance targets and responding to evidence-based intelligence assessments which had profound implications for resource allocation in mainstream policing. Despite the best efforts of senior figures in the intelligence milieu, progress in implementing the model was extremely slow and there was an orthodoxy about investigative practice that masked a continuing struggle for resources between County’s specialist detective force and BCUs; a struggle which the BCUs were losing because the power of the specialist detectives remained unchallenged by the force elite. Without such a challenge, the specialist detective force played no meaningful part in supporting the work of County’s BCUs whose performance suffered, in turn, because local commanders were 268 unable to get the operational help they needed. The County case provided a good example of the service’s continuing reluctance to implement meaningful change in that context. At BCU level, NIM structures and processes were more fully formed than they were in Urban. The significant difference between the two was that in County the commander was a far more effective champion for the NIM. As its most powerful advocate in County, he had the inclination, the means and the capability to carry through his plan to ‘professionalise’ BCU business through the application of the NIM. He believed that the model had the potential to underpin a new body of professional knowledge for the police service, and he took positive action to develop intelligence work in his BCU and to reconcile the demands of both priority crime and ASB. However, the pressure to meet performance targets and communities’ expectations of policing meant that the commander’s aspirations for the NIM were limited both by those expectations and by the relatively small number of staff that he was willing or was able to abstract from the ‘ordinary business’ of policing. Though there was an increasing acceptance of the benefits of intelligence analysis, that did not necessarily translate into greater acceptance of the NIM as the organising framework for operational policing. Though local intelligence staff welcomed the model, the evidence that it actually delivered real improvements in the intelligence process was, once again, limited. Certainly, some pretty fundamental inefficiencies remained. Overall, there was some evidence that the NIM overcame the established values of the pre-existing occupational culture and the hierarchical tradition of the police organisation. However, there was little to suggest that the model delivered the improvements in mainstream policing that Phillips promised. Even though County expended a great deal of its organisational energy in an attempt to achieve NIM compliance, the benefit of its efforts either to County or its policing partners could not easily be determined. Ultimately, just as in the Urban case, it was hard to avoid the conclusion that though at the level of presentation everything changed, in reality there was little meaningful change in County. 269 270 Chapter 9 - Discussion and Conclusions Introduction This final chapter concludes the thesis by exploring what the story of the NIM reveals about the police organisation. At the beginning of the twenty-first century, policing is once again under intense scrutiny. Questions about the capacity and capability of forces to respond effectively to the challenges of organised crime and terrorism, whilst meeting the crime-fighting and security needs of local communities drive debates about the capacity and capability of the existing structure of the service. The Coalition Government’s plans to replace police authorities with elected Police and Crime Commissioners occupy the minds of senior commanders and all of this plays out against the wider background of the Government’s austerity measures that, according to ACPO, threatens the jobs of 12,000 police officers and 16,000 civilian staff over the next four years (Dodd and Travis, 2011). I have argued that in principle, Phillips’ plans could have allowed the police service to meet at least some of these challenges. The NIM’s focus on inclusivity, managing demand and allocating resources in more intelligent ways, promised much. However, the previous chapters have demonstrated the failure of the NIM as Phillips conceived it. Given the history of police and public policymaking, the NIM’s failure to revolutionise policing as he had envisaged, should come as no surprise. I argue that what is important here is to identify why the NIM failed and to highlight what the NIM narrative says about the culture and organisation of British policing in the modern era. My earlier analysis suggested that despite its rhetoric, the service remains wedded to orthodoxy. The Home Office has more control over policing than ever before. The cultural division identified by Vincent in the 1880s and confirmed by the Dixon Committee in the 1930s still exists today. The reactive policing paradigm still dominates and intelligence work continues to be afforded low status. In this concluding chapter, I will synthesise the foregoing data and analysis to complete my answer to the research question 271 “What is the National Intelligence Model, why did it emerge and how has it influenced police organisational structures and investigative practice’? ILP in the Modern Era The NIM was claimed to represent the apotheosis of ILP in Britain. Phillips was not the first to use ILP strategies in British policing (Charles Vincent could probably lay claim to that title) but his belief in the superiority of the proactive paradigm and the utility of intelligence-led methods motivated him to become the first chief officer to effect the fundamental structural changes in his force that a real commitment to ILP required. He created the KPM and convinced of its success, commissioned the NIM. He used undoubted advocacy and marketing skills to persuade his peers that they too could reap the benefits of ILP if they followed his lead. The NIM owed its genesis to Phillips’ belief in the value of intelligence work and to the popular perception that the strategies he pursued in Kent (that have come to be accepted as the standard for ILP in Britain) were qualitatively ‘better’ than traditional reactive investigative practices pursued elsewhere. His policy entrepreneurship was the key factor in persuading the ACPO council to ratify the NIM and to support his overtures to the Home Office to accept it as the model for operational policing in the new millennium but his evidence that it could make a significant difference in the mainstream was partial and equivocal. I have argued throughout this study that Phillips’ strategies have achieved far less than the rhetoric suggests. Phillips’ evidence for the success of the KPM was equivocal and evidence that the NIM could revolutionise policing practice is no less ambiguous. In reality, ILP has not been adopted as a policing strategy to the extent either that its supporters have claimed, or some commentators have suggested. Of course ILP strategies are used in mainstream policing throughout Britain. However, they have usually been employed in addition to, rather than as a replacement for, traditional reactive approaches 272 and then only at the margins of investigative activity. They certainly do not represent the paradigm shift in investigative practice that some would have us believe. Why have ILP strategies not been used more widely or more consistently? The NIM meetings observed in this study provide some clues. There was little evidence that police commanders wanted to change their approach to the policing problems they faced. They dominated the meetings, whose rigid structure and format constrained innovation and creativity. There was little evidence of any enthusiasm for problem-solving and those who might have offered novel, non-police, perspectives were either excluded or were discouraged from making any real contribution. Much of the detail of the meetings was pre-scripted and delivered in PowerPoint presentations. Performance dominated both discourse and intent. Meaningful decisions (such as those around priorities) were taken outside the meeting according to well-established (what I have called, orthodox) criteria. The result was that, on the few occasions that operational responses were discussed in open forum, it was the same menu of ‘tried and tested’ options (that began with ‘high visibility’ patrolling of the problem area) that was explored. Observations of the NIM meetings and of the intelligence units in action, showed that mode of policing shaped the data collected by the police rather than vice versa. For example, having well-staffed burglary and robbery focus desks meant that a great deal of data was collected on burglary and robbery, which reinforced decisions to focus on those offences at the expense of others that communities were arguing were of much more concern to them. I agree with Williamson et al (2007: 653) that the change from reactive to proactive intelligence-led investigations was an attempt to engineer a paradigm shift in investigative practice. Civilian surveillance operatives and analysts did join police officers in attempting to convict offenders or at least disrupt their activities but the covert methods I described earlier (see Table 1) percolated down to the mainstream much less frequently than the rhetoric suggested. This was because of specialist detective commanders’ concerns about compromising those methods (through overuse or through the revealing of methodologies) 273 and because they usually required skills, abilities or resources (including human resources) that simply did not exist in the mainstream. 40 However, I argue that their limited use in the mainstream also can be attributed to a clash of two distinct policing ideologies. I argue that ILP has (at least) two dimensions. Firstly, there is a kind of ‘administrative’ function, which relies on intelligence analysts and uses analytical techniques such as crime mapping and hotspotting (see Figure 1). Home Office officials and the police elite value that function highly because in addition to providing intelligence for action, it provides data on police performance which is always at the top of their list of concerns and it does not threaten traditional practice. This kind of ILP activity dominated the NIM meetings. It is more closely aligned with a kind of ‘preventative proactive policing” that emerged from the Scarman Report (1981), and which pays homage to the policing philosophies of Metropolitan Police Commissioner Kenneth Newman and his successors, Peter Imbert and Paul Condon. Secondly, there is what I term an ‘operationalised ILP’ which is much more explicitly about crime control. This may also rely, in the first instance, on the work of analysts but in this case the emphasis is on techniques such as network analysis (see Figure 2) and the targeting of groups or individuals using covert methods with their arrest (or some other intervention to prevent further offending) the intended outcome. That is to say that there is a more explicit and direct link between the analysis, the investigative action and outcomes. Though there has been some ‘cross-pollination’, most ILP activity observed in the mainstream in this study served the administrative function whilst the specialist detective force held a near-monopoly on ‘operationalised ILP’. In reorganising the Kent force, Phillips aimed inter alia both to break with the traditional reactive investigative paradigm and to galvanise the development of ‘operationalised ILP’ across his force. The reader has seen that few other senior commanders seemed willing to match Phillips’ commitments. ILP strategies have much to 40 The notable exception here is the use of informers which, as I discussed earlier, have been used extensively at all levels of the service throughout its history. 274 offer in the mainstream, in terms of shaping patrol strategies more effectively and contributing to other problem-solving activity. However, this research suggested that police commanders see ILP as a factor only in planned proactive activity. That interpretation of intelligence largely fails to take proper account both of its predictive value and of its capacity to inform strategic decision-making and longer-term problem-solving approaches. It also significantly underestimates the value of intelligence in managing risk. This has meant that ILP has rarely been a significant factor in those situations that involve “something that ought not to be happening and about which someone had better do something now” (Bittner, 1974: 30), which make up such a large part of police activity. As a consequence, by far the greater proportion of the policing effort has continued to be directed in the traditional reactive mode, variously described in this research as: the “ordinary day-to-day work of detection”; “the background policing”; or the “85 to 90 percent of police business that had to be carried on” to meet government and community expectations of the police as the primary agency of social control. Gill (2000) questioned whether ILP really represented a fundamental shift in policing or was simply the latest fad to be ‘bolted-on’ to existing structures and processes. The case studies in this research suggested that the latter is true; as little as 3.5-5% of resources in a typical BCU were likely to be devoted to proactive policing. Despite the rhetoric, the service has continued to put its faith in an orthodox approach that combines a ‘fire brigade’ response style for the bulk of mainstream policing with a reliance on specialist detective squads to combat serious crime.41 That is an approach that police commanders have relied upon for almost 130 years and it is one that they find, reassuring, familiar, and difficult to break out of. Largely, because it has allowed the service to meet the performance targets set by central government (and therefore to avoid sanction) and to satisfy the normative expectations of the communities it polices, without serious or sustained challenge. I argue that in fact, it 41 I recognise that in the history of public policing there have been variations upon these styles from time to time. However, I believe that this ‘broad brush’ approach describes the major part of police endeavours in that period. 275 has become a straightjacket; limiting and constraining police commanders and preventing them from embracing a network logic to use its two greatest resources, its people and its knowledge, in the most innovative and productive ways. Maximising returns on police resources is likely to be even more important in the rapidly approaching era of austerity for public services and the police elite may yet be forced to revisit the NIM and its capacity and potential for effective resource allocation. Intelligence Work in the Mainstream A significant factor in what I argue has been the ultimate failure of the NIM, has been its inability to effect meaningful changes in mainstream policing’s intelligence architecture. Indeed, the failings of the pre-existing intelligence architecture that have been highlighted by so many other researchers (including; Cope, 2008, 2004 and 2003; Maguire and John, 2006; Innes, Fielding and Cope, 2005 and 2003, Grieve, 2004; Sheptycki, 2004 and Gill, 2000) should have been obvious to the police elite. The notion that intelligence should drive activity in the mainstream has never gained sufficient traction amongst either service commanders or frontline patrol officers. Self-evidently, intelligence should be at the heart of ILP, just as it should be at the heart of policing in the modern era. However, as the reader has seen throughout this research, the problems in intelligence work, particularly in local intelligence work, run deep. The ability of the intelligence system, as it was configured during this research, to ‘lead’ operational policing or investigative strategies in the mainstream is highly questionable. The assertion that the information technology revolution altered the “structural, symbolic and social organization of policing” (Postman cited in Chan, 2001: 140), was not borne out by the local intelligence work examined in this study because few of the problems highlighted by other researchers (such as Kleiven, 2006; Innes et al, 2003; Cope, 2003), had been resolved. For example, analysts apart, civilian staff received little formal training and sworn officers were still posted to local intelligence units because they could not work on the frontline for one reason or another, rather than because of any particular 276 skills that they could bring to their new posts. Moreover, very few detectives played any part in local intelligence work. Respondents described fundamental problems in that arena, including matters relating to: the physical security of intelligence units, data collection, data management, clashes of culture (between sworn officers and civilian staff), and ignorance of the basic tenets of intelligence work and the NIM. The problem of intelligence may not be that the police do not have enough of it but that they are unwilling or unable to use it intelligently to determine priorities and to guide activity. Certainly, the command teams observed in this research were unwilling to look beyond their performance targets and put their faith in their intelligence analyses and short- termism dominated decision-making forums. Emphasising the importance of intelligence to policing, the former Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police Sir John Stevens (2001), described the structure of an effective intelligence system as a pyramid. He argued that the most important part of the system was the local or BCU level because it was there that most officers operated and that most intelligence was collected. Of course, collection is fundamentally important but it is only one element in an effective intelligence management system. Staff must be properly trained, systems must be established so that information can be put in context, so that its provenance can be checked, and risks accurately assessed and managed. Above all, commanders must have faith in their intelligence units, and be able to trust the intelligence analyses they generate so that they can take decisions that are truly intelligence-led. However, this does not describe the police local intelligence system as it was configured at the time of this research. Taken together with these findings, the failures of NCIS and its successor agency, SOCA, (which will soon be subsumed into the new National Crime Agency) I suggest that a fundamental re-evaluation of intelligence work in Britain is long overdue. Orthodoxy 277 Researchers such as Loveday (1991) and Reiner (1991) noted that police authorities have been ineffective in influencing the delivery of policing services because inter alia they too often have deferred to chief constables’ ‘professional expertise’. That deference was also identified in this research. However, I have argued throughout this research that just as partners (including police authorities) have deferred to the ‘professional judgement’ of the police, so uniformed branch commanders too often have deferred to the professional judgement of specialist detective commanders without sufficient challenge. This has allowed the detectives to maintain control over a system which has remained largely unreformed since the 1960s. In the process, the ‘class system’ in policing that I described earlier, has been perpetuated and affirmed to the detriment of the whole service approach to policing. In the period of the research, neither the service elite nor its executives demonstrated much enthusiasm for making the changes that would deliver the whole service approach that Phillips demanded. Resistance to change has been a characteristic of the CID and the specialist detective force, just as (with some notable exceptions) a reluctance to enforce change in detectives’ practice has been characteristic of the uniformed branch. For example, the service elite’s failure to force the CID to engage with the UBP experiment, ultimately meant that it did was unable to harness the experience and expertise of the detective force for crime-fighting in the mainstream. Instead, detectives (particularly those in the specialist detective force) continued to emphasise their separateness and their class superiority over the rest of the service and to continue to operate in keeping with its own priorities rather than those of the service as a whole. Perhaps the most notable exception to this particular charge was Robert Mark’s efforts to root out CID corruption in the 1970s which certainly challenged the power of the CID and had the effect of reforming some aspects of specialist detective work. However, in failing to reform detective work more broadly, Mark never fully challenged the isolation and elitism of the specialist detectives. Consequently it was allowed to continue to the detriment of the wider service. That failure was problematic in a number of ways. Firstly, 278 it perpetuated an action-oriented crime control culture that prioritised arrests and seizures of illicit commodities over crime prevention, problem-solving and other community-focused activities. Secondly, it encouraged the perpetuation of orthodox organisational responses to policing problems and largely ignored the public service reforms of the modern era. The tension between the policing of priority crime and the policing of anti-social behaviour (ASB) has been the subject of much research. That tension was a significant factor in the story of the NIM. The tensions observed by John and Maguire (2003) in their early evaluation of the model, were just as evident in this research. Operational decisions were frequently made according to the dictum ‘what gets measured gets done’. In this context, the police put the bulk of their resources into the policing of ‘priority crime’ because it was that which was measured by the Home Office and because it was against that standard that commanders were judged. Consequently, they afforded much less priority to the policing of ASB, which was of much greater concern to communities. Chief officers’ concerns about meeting Home Office targets above all others demonstrates their deference to that government department and also the elite’s fear of sanction. In the eyes of most senior commanders, the NIM was never seen as anything more than an intelligence process and it was accorded the importance that this research suggests that intelligence in the mainstream has always been given. Certainly, it was never seriously considered as the organising framework for operational policing that Phillips envisaged. Consequently, little thought was given to ways in which it might have been made compatible with the neighbourhood policing programme (or vice versa). Even where the benefits of doing so were obvious, few efforts were made to bring the local NIM and neighbourhood policing arrangements together. For example, in the Urban case the merging of the NIM tactical meeting and the JAG would have been a positive (and should have been an obvious) step in advancing local partnership. In neither case study was commanders’ avowed enthusiasm for partnership working and inclusiveness, matched by much in the way of meaningful action. The result was that partners had little influence on decision-making or resource allocation and decisions about 279 priorities, resource allocation and police operations, the milieu was dominated by a kind of ‘investigative orthodoxy’ so that strategies were conceived and decisions made, in the same ways they always had been. Concerns about meeting performance targets imposed by central government were at the forefront of commanders’ minds at all times and this seemed to be the decisive factor in every decision about the allocation of resources (whether tangible or intangible). Novelty, creativity or invention were largely absent from operational planning forums. What was striking in the cases explored was that apart from a little verbal sparring over those priorities, the reaction to commanders’ intransigence among the few partners who attended the meetings was muted. Just as in the case of the police authorities, generally, they adopted a passive stance, seeming to acknowledge that power rested with the police and they were seemed unwilling to challenge senior officers’ ‘professional judgement’. I argued earlier that the service’s need to control the operational environment demonstrates that it continues to be locked into traditional patterns of behaviour that limit creativity and constrain action. This research suggests that partners too, may be locked into outmoded organisational cultures and traditions. I argue that this indicates a wider problem for the future of local police/ community partnerships. Until the ‘compliance culture’ that I have referred to throughout this thesis is challenged effectively, significant operational decisions will continue to be made in the NIM meetings and the CDA meetings will continue to be little more than well-attended talking shops. The merging of the NIM and CDA assessments has the potential to cut costs and save organisational energy. If accompanied by a unification of the NIM and CDA meetings, it can advance the cause of real partnership. However, that will not necessarily remove the tension between central targets and local priorities described here that is part of a much wider debate about central control of the public police, the purpose of policing and the utility (indeed the necessity) of a ‘whole service’ approach. What Does the NIM Reveal About the Police Organisation? 280 It is possible to interpret the Home Office’s codification of the NIM as a further step in the centralisation of British policing. After all, Home Secretary David Blunkett did threaten to force the NIM on the service. However, this study suggests that though the Home Office was keen to see the improvements in police performance that the ACPO President promised, its plans for the model do not appear to have included any scheme to increase its control of operational policing in Britain. Even if the history of policing might cause the reader to infer otherwise. It was Sir David Phillips, who provided the inspiration for the NIM, who had the ‘grand plan’ for intelligence and operational policing in the mainstream. He wanted it to underpin police intelligence work and embed intelligence-led practice in policing across Britain. Phillips was a proactive and committed policy entrepreneur who sought to initiate change within the police service. His credibility as an operational leader, his powerful advocacy and his professional position made a compelling case for the NIM, which ACPO was happy to support. Particularly, when his plans were backed by the Association’s political masters in the Home Office. The die was cast when that support was translated into a statutory code of practice for the NIM. Unfortunately, serious failings in the NIM and in the implementation process were identified almost from the outset. However, despite researchers’ concerns, the Home Office allowed an essentially unreconstructed version of the model to be rolled out across Britain because officials believed they were endorsing a policy that was uncontroversial and cost-effective. Above all, that they were delivering something that the police themselves had demanded. A Home Office senior official (N065) was adamant that the attraction of the NIM was it allowed the department to demonstrate its continuing commitment to efficiency and best value. Those considerations appear to have outweighed any well-founded concerns about the model. So much so, that neither the police nor the Home Office made any meaningful effort to reconcile the NIM with the other significant Home Office-sponsored change programme of the period, neighbourhood policing. In embracing a business model that had already shown itself to be immature and underdeveloped and which was bound to 281 conflict with the other change programme in the same period, ACPO took the same leap into the unknown. As the Home Office. However, individually, many of the Association’s members soon showed themselves to be sceptics, unwilling to effect the level of change in their own forces that was necessary to accomplish Phillips’ plans. His plans may have been sound in principle but beyond the rarefied atmosphere of ACPO, NCIS and the Home Office, the inconsistencies and ambiguities of the NIM were obvious to his peers. Yet, there remained a chance the model could succeed. As Sabatier (1986) highlighted, public policies rarely achieve their aims without revision. However, to have any chance of success, those tasked by ACPO and the Home Office with implementing the NIM and indeed those institutions themselves, needed to take proper account of: the conflicting ideologies, interests and values in policing; how underlying factors such as performance and financial targets (that featured heavily in accounts in this research) would affect the process; how other Home Office-sponsored initiatives (principally in this case, the neighbourhood policing programme); and the compromises that would have to be made with those who were expected to work with the model. Across the board, there was a failure so to do. The potential for friction between the NIM and the neighbourhood policing programme should have been obvious both to the Home Office and to police commanders from the outset. That two competing and far-reaching change policies should be introduced into policing at the same time may have been unfortunate. That there was so little coordination of the programmes is, by any objective criteria, incomprehensible. The problems created by such an uncoordinated and deficient approach to implementation, were not confined to the day-to-day business of reconciling competing demands for staff or resources. They extended to the very top of the police service where competition between the programmes provided a focus for the rivalry between those committed to preventative policing strategies and a public reassurance agenda and others identified with the idea of policing as crime control (perceived by some, to be the driver for the NIM). 282 The two cases studied for this thesis provide good examples of the reality of NIM implementation. In the Urban case, senior commanders simply failed to implement the model at the executive level of the force because they saw it both as an imposition and a policy that was unsuitable for their needs. Ultimately, it was ignored at the elite level of the force. Paradoxically, in pursuit of NIM compliance (a topic I shall return to later), commanders forced through NIM arrangements with some vigour in their BCUs where the attention of HMIC inspectors, primarily was focused. In County, there was a will to implement the model but at the elite level but it just was not carried through with sufficient vigour or expertise. There was an ‘investigative orthodoxy’ and an inability to comprehend what it really meant to be intelligence-led that mitigated meaningful outcomes. Manning’s (2008: 253) assertion that “organisations do what they have done well in the past” has real relevance in this context. Beyond the individual cases studied, it is difficult, case by case, to unpick the reasons for the elite’s rejection of the NIM. However, the following (singly or in combination) were significant factors in the ultimate rejection of the model: scepticism about its real value, which some felt to be demonstrably under-developed, inefficient and (in the management speak of the era) ‘not fit for purpose’: failings in the pre-existing intelligence architecture; a reluctance by some chief officers to see the cost benefit of undertaking significant structural and organisational change; and rejection of the NIM on ideological grounds. In the previous section, I argued that orthodoxy and tradition has constrained innovation and creativity in operational policing. Another dimension to that orthodoxy, which is relevant to this study, is the deference of the service elite to central government, a feature since the creation of the new police. As Reiner (2010), Jones (2003), Jones and Newburn (1997), and many other researchers have highlighted, the history of policing has been characterised by a steady accretion of power over the police to central government, at the expense of chief officers and police authorities. Perhaps that is simply the political reality. The realpolitik, of that relationship may not wholly explain the rejection of Phillips’ plans but it is relevant because 283 it may explain why resistance to the NIM, largely was covert. Home Office control over the other parties to the tripartite agreement was so complete that, even though the NIM was an explicitly police-led initiative, neither chief officers nor police authorities were willing to openly challenge what they interpreted as that department’s will. That unwillingness to openly challenge the Home Office over a policy which, for a variety of reasons, many senior commanders had little appetite, was the driver of a ‘compliance’ agenda. By accident or design, chief officers were able to claim ‘NIM compliance’ and to avoid official sanction for failing to effect the structural changes in their forces that Phillips’ original plans had demanded. However, compliance brought a significant cost. Even a half-hearted response (sufficient to provide that thin veneer of compliance) required the commitment of some staff and some resources (which of course was a world away from the whole service response that Phillips had envisaged). Intelligence assessments would have to be prepared and meetings would have to be held, according to prescribed timetables. Orders were passed down the line. The NIM was publicised and marketed across the service even though the implementation strategy chosen by ACPO, meant that few of those tasked with promulgating the model in forces understood it any better than their audiences. The absence of a coherent and credible intelligence architecture that might drive that ‘whole service’ approach in mainstream policing undermined even the best of intentions. The result was that the service did what it has done so often, it muddled through, it got the job done, without stopping to ask whether ‘the job’ could be done in a more effective way or to question whether it needed to be done at all. That pragmatism is the product of the tradition and culture that has its roots in the history of policing and which continues to underpin the rational-legal, bureaucratic, police organisation in England and Wales. Despite efforts in the modern era to reform the service along business lines, elements of the militaristic hierarchical ‘force’ remain. That is to say, that it is common for individuals or teams to carry out an act or perform a function because they are told to do so. 284 At one level, it is clear that the police service cannot be equated with the armed services nor are police staff unthinking and unquestioning automatons. Police professionalism is under the daily scrutiny of the Home Office, police authorities, the judiciary and the public who are, variously, customers, adversaries and paymasters (and sometimes are all three contemporaneously). All expect the police to perform their duties in efficient, effective, economic and transparent ways. However it is also true that within the service the tradition of respectful deference to senior officers remains a factor in the working lives of police officers. That should be unsurprising. It is just one generation since new recruits at the Hendon Police College were taught how to salute and march before they were taught anything about policing practice. The persistence of an authoritarian command structure in which instructions and directives flow one-way, from the top down, explains much of what is otherwise inexplicable in this research. It explains the inflexibility and unwillingness to reach compromises, with those expected to operate the model, of those tasked with rolling it out. Deference to those above them in the hierarchy, which has those same roots of orthodoxy and tradition, explains why no one seems ever to have been tempted to tell the emperor that he had no clothes. It explains, for example, why the Urban intelligence manager did not tell his SMT that they were usurping his position and undermining his relationship with his intelligence staff. It explains why neither of the senior analysts could tell their respective commanders that they should be addressing the priorities identified by their intelligence assessments rather than relying wholly on performance data. It also explains why it took the County DOI almost two years to gain control of the intelligence assets that should have been hers from the day that she assumed her post. The NIM narrative also highlighted that a differential value was placed on individuals (at least if judged against the police’s working rules). Accordingly, staff had their particular place in the hierarchy so that a specialist detective was perceived to have more organisational value and personal power than a detective constable who in turn was 285 more highly valued than a constable who could use an analyst’s desk as a repository for discarded; partly-consumed, foodstuffs, without fear of sanction. It is worth reflecting on the fate of the other great hope for policing in the modern era, which has been referred to throughout this thesis, COMPSTAT. 42 COMPSTAT was introduced into the NYPD by Bratton, in the same period that Phillips was formulating the NIM. It was adopted by many police departments in the USA and its putative success attracted the attention of academics and police departments across the world (many of the UK’s police elite visited New York City to see the system in action). Bratton’s intention, just like Phillips, was that his model should influence decision-making at all levels of the police service. However, researchers found that under COMPSTAT, strategic decision- making remained concentrated at the top of the organizational hierarchy rather than promoting initiative among frontline staff. The rank and file were largely oblivious to the new model and it intruded little, if at all, into their daily work. Just like the NIM, in action, COMPSTAT departed markedly from what had been promised. Rather than representing “a radical transformation in... business [simply] transplanted some new ways... without making much change to some very fundamental structures of police organizations” (Willis et al, 2003a: 77). There was little overt resistance to the NIM. However, I have argued at many points, compliance with the rules of the model, rather than a focus on outcomes, has been one of the central features of its story. That compliance concealed a covert resistance to the significant structural change that proper implementation of the NIM required. It also enabled the ACPO membership to escape official sanction, to get on with the day-to-day business of policing and to await the next ‘big idea’ that surely was not very far over the horizon. Assessing whether a policing policy has been properly implemented may be difficult because of the normative assumptions of public policymaking, the variations possible in the implementation process and the complexity of the policing institution. However, the NIM codes and guidance manuals provided a clear benchmark against which 42 This comparison is given even greater relevance by the appointment of Bratton as an adviser on policing to the current Prime Minister. 286 implementation can be judged. On that basis, this research suggests that the NIM was not properly implemented in the police forces of England and Wales. Ultimately, though a great deal of organisational energy was expended, the result was that British policing ended up looking very much the way it had before the NIM story began. ACPO’s inability to coordinate the activities of its, traditionally fiercely independent, membership will come as no surprise to students of policing. Though, its council’s endorsement of the NIM as the model for policing in the twenty-first century might have been expected to carry more weight with its members than proved to be the case. The Association’s quasi-official status and its role in determining policing policy has come under scrutiny in recent years. There are concerns that an organisation that speaks for the public police service is itself a private limited company, is exempt from the requirements of the Freedom of Information Act 2000 (and therefore, lacks the level transparency commensurate with its role), and that it engages in commercial activities that many consider incompatible with its public role (see for example, Lewis, 2009). In August 2010, those concerns led the Home Secretary to commission a review of police leadership (and training) by Peter Neyroud, then head of NPIA. Neyroud’s (2011) review envisages the merging of the leadership functions of ACPO into a new police professional body (supported by a Royal Charter) that will be responsible inter alia for national organisational standards. He proposes that the ‘executive board’ of the new body will have a wide membership that includes external, independent members and that it will be advised by new council of chief constables. Additionally, Neyroud has set out plans for a police professional body that will oversee such items as new National Standards for Policing. It remains to be seen whether the Home Office accepts Neyroud’s recommendations in full. However, they seem to have been positively received in Government and by many in the police service. Certainly, this research suggests that those developments are necessary. As a footnote to the foregoing analysis; paradoxically, a redrawing and redefinition of the model by NPIA means that it could now be argued that that the NIM has been 287 successfully implemented across Britain. In contemporary official discourse the NIM is now defined as, “an intelligence-led, problem solving approach to crime and disorder [that] promotes partnership working and uses the management of information and intelligence” (NPIA, 2011: 1). NPIA’s new explanation of the model represents a significant departure from Phillips’ original ambitions for the NIM. Perhaps, John and Maguire (2004: 9) best captured the essence of that original model when they described it as “a major effort both to promote effective ILP on a national basis and to begin to standardise intelligence-related structures, processes and practices across all forces”. NPIA’s reinterpretation of the NIM (which itself is worthy of further research) amounts to a significant downgrading of Phillips’ model. Predictably, this research was not able to capture every development in the story of the model up to the current day and I could only speculate on the reasons for NPIA’s redefinition. However, by that action NPIA has reduced the NIM to a mere process and, at a stroke, removed the need for any restructuring of the police organisation to meet the model’s aims. ‘NIM Mark 2’ (or ‘NIM lite’) represents neither the organising framework for operational policing that Phillips intended nor that the Home Office thought that it was supporting when it included the model in the first NPP. I argue that as much as anything in this thesis, such ‘creativity’ on the part of the NPIA demonstrates the ultimate rejection of Phillips’ plans for the NIM and ILP. Whatever its reasons for them, NPIA’s actions have removed ACPO and its members from the horns of a dilemma and I am sure that there will be at least some in the Association who are grateful for that. 288 Appendix A – Review of Metropolitan Police Intelligence System, 1991 In 1991, an internal review of the Met’s intelligence systems identified serious deficiencies in its existing structure (Metropolitan Police, 1991 cited in Greenaway, 1998). As a result, the force established the rather misleadingly named Force Intelligence Bureau (FIB) to support mainstream policing activity. However, rather than providing a single repository of support and expertise, the work of the bureau was divided between a number of discrete units that supported clusters of police divisions across London (Greenaway, 1998). The FIB also was subordinate to the pre-existing specialist detective headquarters intelligence unit (C11) so that its work was given a lesser priority. Though it promised much, the FIB’s effectiveness and operational credibility was severely undermined by its lack of proactive capability which meant that it was unable to translate the administrative element of ILP activity into ‘operationalised ILP’ activity. It was staffed by intelligence collectors, advisors or analysts who had neither the investigative skills nor operational capacity to effect arrests or conduct prosecutions (Greenaway, 1998). Even where offenders or offending patterns were identified, the FIB relied on Met divisions to provide the operational dimension it lacked. Often, the parochial view in divisions where crimes occurring outside their divisional boundaries were ‘someone else’s problem’” meant that this was not forthcoming (Greenaway, 1998). A tasking and coordination inspector (N016) said that these kinds of problems were compounded by the lack of an oversight mechanism capable of compelling BCUs to staff operations. In 1994, a number of factors combined to persuade the Met to invest in its local intelligence units and FIB in an effort to enhance their capabilities and ‘reach’. These were: the Audit Commission’s critical report on the police investigative effort (described above); the impact that was being felt in the force due to the establishment of NCIS; and an internal study into its intelligence and detection support systems that highlighted their continuing inadequacy (Greenaway, 1998). The pretence that the FIB was capable of 289 leading the intelligence efforts of the force finally was abandoned and the bureau was overhauled. The Met’s collator system also was augmented. Collators were for the first time placed under the control of senior detectives. Field intelligence officers, researchers and (for the first time in the mainstream) criminal intelligence analysts were employed in the units which were re-branded as local (or divisional) intelligence units. Selected divisions with particularly challenging problems also were provided with “specialist equipment” that was not previously made available to local officers (Greenaway, 1998: 28).43 A former collator (N060) said that under the ‘old’ system the collator was responsible for the storage and dissemination of local intelligence. Collection of intelligence was unfocused and there were no effective filtering or weeding mechanisms. Entries into the records commonly were the result of random sightings of known individuals by patrolling officers or unsubstantiated statements (often amounting to no more than gossip) about those individuals, their families or friends made by others who (in a variety of ways) came to the attention of the police. A field intelligence officer (FIO) (N017) said that the claimed advantage of that system was that a full and comprehensive record of an individual’s offending behaviour, associates etc., might one day provide a useful ‘snippet’ of information that might only become relevant much later. However, this undirected and speculative collection process became untenable as collators’ records grew larger and more unwieldy, and as increasingly scarce operational resources and energies were wasted on unproductive collection activity. Classification and categorisation were meant to be key features of the new system. These were to provide focus to the force’s mainstream intelligence gathering activities. Prominent or prolific offenders were categorised as ‘prominent nominals’. Others who were thought likely in the fullness of time to become prominent or prolific criminals labelled ‘development nominals’. It was against the activities of these offenders that local BCUs’ intelligence efforts were to be directed. Meanwhile, in an effort to ensure that 43 Though this often simply was camera equipment that was readily available for purchase from local retailers (a former field intelligence officer, N017). 290 intelligence in respect of serious or organised crime was not ignored, a third category known as agency nominals was created so that intelligence of interest to specialist crime units or other law enforcement agencies was passed to those who might need it (Greenaway, 1998). Different elements of the organisation worked against each other. The ACPO member (N053) said that the structural changes that were made did not go far enough. Equipment was inadequate and staff selection and training remained contentious issues throughout. He said that determined to prove it was intelligence-led, the FIB encouraged its officers to collect information only on those individuals that local intelligence units had designated as ‘nominals’ but the message was lost in transmission to local commanders. The result was that the quantity of information collected was considered more important than the quality of the information. He said that the introduction of the computerised force system with multiple access sites and the decision of many BCU commanders to use the number (rather than the quality) of intelligence reports entered into the system as a performance indicator meant that the intelligence system quickly was “broken”. The reader has seen that these were the same issues encountered in both case studies in this research. I argue that this section provides further evidence of the inadequacy of the police intelligence structure and the persistence of the problems identified elsewhere in this thesis. 291 Appendix B – Flow diagram of policy implementation process (from Sabatier, 1986: 24) 292 Appendix C – Thesis Aims and Objectives 293 Appendix D – CID Corruption Corruption amongst the detective ranks has always been a source of concern. This appendix highlights two discrete periods in the history of the CID when corruption led to significant organisational change. The First Detectives The first detective officers continued the practices of the Bow Street Runners in associating with thieves and informers (Mayne, 1842 cited in Roach, 2004: 193). Mayne conceded that the adoption of these ‘traditional’ practices could lead to “detections that might not otherwise have taken place” but he was convinced that the system used by the Runners was immoral and in any event would be unable to limit those activities in the longer term (1842 cited in Roach, 2004: 193). Mayne’s instincts were proved correct by the Turf Fraud case which showed that the ‘new’ detectives were just as capable as the magistrates’ officers of being drawn into immoral and corrupt practices (Mayne, 1842 cited in Roach, 2004). Many of those practices revolved around the activities of ‘common informers’. Victims of crime were unwilling to spare the time or the commitment to pursue criminal cases through the courts. By representing an injured party in court, the common informer was able to fill a gap in the criminal justice system, receiving as a reward, a portion of any fine or other financial penalty imposed on the conviction of the offender (Roach, 2004). Predictably, the opportunities for collusion between detectives, victims and informers leading to corruption and perjury were “obvious, and were freely taken” (Roach, 2004: 70). Continuing public disquiet about detectives’ corruption (exemplified by the conduct uncovered by the Turf Fraud trials) finally led in 1878 to the establishment of the Ibbetson Commission which enquired inter alia into police corruption (Roach, 2004: 134).44 The Commission found that detectives’ relationships with informers were the primary cause of 44 This was the result of the uncovering of a fraud network that involved senior detective officers; Nathaniel Druscovich, George Clarke and William Palmer (see Wade, S. (2007) Plain Clothes and Sleuths: A history of detectives in Britain. Stroud: Tempus Publishing). 294 corruption (Morris, 2007). It recommended the establishment of a detective force that would be “solely under the command of other detectives” (cited in Roach, 2004: 143). However, Roach (2004: 143) has argued that it was “precisely” this separation of the detective force from mainstream policing and detectives’ “inward-looking isolation and lack of outsider supervision that opened the door to corruption”. However, the Commission was persuaded of the need for new leadership of the detective force and its recommendations led to the appointment of Charles Vincent with a brief to root out corruption and reform the detective force. Robert Mark and CID Reform in London From the end of the 1960s to the beginning of the 1980s there seems to have been a concerted effort on the part of the Home Office to ameliorate the effects of the CID’s abuse of its monopoly powers. In 1969, Home Secretary James Callaghan appointed Frank Williamson of HMIC to oversee an investigation into corruption involving three Metropolitan Police detectives. Hobbs (1999:1) has noted that Williamson’s investigation was completely undermined by the fact that “information was leaked to officers under investigation, crucial documents disappeared, and senior detectives conducted a campaign of lies against him”. This meant that Williamson’s inquiry was short-lived and ultimately did not lead to any prosecutions, and Williamson resigned in disgust. However, the particular concerns about the prevalence of corruption amongst detectives in the Metropolitan Police raised by the inquiry stimulated the Home Office to redouble its efforts to reform the Met’s detective force. In 1972, Robert Mark, formerly chief officer of the disbanded Leicester City Police and latterly an Assistant Commissioner (AC) in the Met, was appointed out of ‘left-field’ to the post of Metropolitan Police Commissioner with a mandate to deal with detectives’ corruption. Effectively, given his short Met career, Mark was an outsider but he was able to exploit the inside knowledge he had gained in the post of AC to attack the CID’s working 295 practices. He was extremely critical of the CID’s autonomy (described in Chapter 3 by Hobbs, 1988). The “entire system” of CID corruption practised by the “firm within a firm” of London detectives was the major focus of Mark’s time in office (Cox et al, 1977: 5). Cox et al (1977) argued that Mark was aware that CID corruption was a significant problem but that he was not aware of its scale or extent until he assumed leadership of the force. Early in his tenure, fresh allegations of corruption were made against the Drugs Squad and the Flying Squad. By this time, confidence in the detective force was so low that The Times newspaper published “serious allegations” against the detectives of the Obscene Publications Squad “because the editor and his legal advisers did not believe that if the allegations against the detectives were disclosed properly to the Metropolitan Police they would be properly investigated” (Mark, 1978: 107). Mark suggested that a Home Office investigation of The Times was characterised by “ineptitude” but he was satisfied that the newspaper’s revelations had “disclosed to the world that there was a widespread and… justified lack of confidence in the way in which allegations of crime by Metropolitan detectives were investigated” (Mark, 1978: 108). Unlike their provincial counterparts the Met’s CID “enjoyed an immunity from external supervision and investigation” which facilitated a variety of wrong-doing (Mark, 1978: 122). This fell into three categories. There was a comparatively minor form of institutional corruption which included suppressing charges or failing to bring previous convictions to notice. Often this kind of corruption was done under the cover of recruiting informers. Secondly, more “spectacular corruption” affecting senior officers or the specialist squads and thirdly, a “widespread general acceptance” that it was ‘necessary’ to bend the rules (Mark, 1978: 122). Mark (1978) considered that he owed it to the honest detectives to root out the bad. He was moved to comment that in his view the CID at that time was "the most routinely corrupt organisation in London" (cited in Hobbs, 1988: 72- 73). 296 As part of a wider programme of anti-corruption measures, Mark established ‘A10’ Scotland Yard’s first internal affairs department to take over the investigation of crime committed by members of the CID. The area detective commanders were relieved of their operational duties and instead assumed “advisory and supervisory” roles (Mark, 1978: 128- 129). He appointed a new CID commander to take charge of the specialist squads and directed that all detectives serving outside the specialist squads were put under the command of local uniformed commanders. In the longer-term, plans were made for the routine “interchange” of CID and uniformed officers (Mark, 1978: 128-129). Rawlings (2006: 65) has argued that Mark’s efforts in this regard (which mirrored Vincent’s efforts almost 100 years earlier) were an attempt to stimulate the “moral re-education of detectives” through enforced transfers into the uniform. Mark’s reforms brought some success. Within a year, two officers a week were leaving the force “prematurely” and bank robbery, “a crime particularly associated with police corruption” had fallen from the 65 offences recorded in the previous year to 26 offences in 1973 (Hobbs, 1999: 1). In April 1973, Mark appointed Deputy Assistant Commissioner Gilbert Kelland to investigate charges of corruption against Scotland Yard’s Obscene Publications Squad (OPS). Working on information provided by jailed Soho pornographer Jimmy Humphreys, Kelland and his hand-picked team of detectives exposed a long-standing criminal conspiracy between pornographers and those charged with policing them (Tomes, 2004). The exposure led to the conviction of a dozen detectives, including a commander and a chief superintendent. Kelland’s reward was to be promoted to the post of Assistant Commissioner ‘A’ department with responsibility for uniformed policing and in August 1977 and following Mark’s resignation, he was transferred to the post of Assistant Commissioner (Crime) (as the post of Director or Chief Constable of the CID had been redesignated) by Mark’s successor David McNee (Tomes, 2004). It is somewhat ironic that in 1976 Mark resigned from the Met over plans for a new police complaints system. McBarnet (1981) has argued that Mark was not against further control of the police, on the contrary he argued for the machinery and procedures that could 297 combat police malpractice and corruption. However, he was against a system that, in his view, would undermine internal accountability and reduce his control over his force and resigned rather than be forced to work within such a system (McBarnet, 1981: 116). In 1978, Kelland took over the newly formed Special Intelligence Section (SIS). The SIS was responsible for collecting and collating all intelligence relating to international crime. To rebuild Home Office, police and public confidence in the CID, Kelland separated the SIS from the existing intelligence structure. He placed the SIS under the command of C1 Branch (and thus under the control of the Deputy Assistant Commissioner (DAC) ‘C’ (Operations) whilst C11 remained under the control of DAC ‘C’ (Support). As an additional measure he appointed a senior officer from another force, a move almost unheard of in those days, to command the new unit (Kelland, 1986). Kelland later asserted that these measures “quelled any rumours and restored confidence between the Met and other police forces” (Kelland, 1986: 234).45 At the time, Kelland’s separation of international intelligence work from the mainstream was controversial. He later recalled that the decision was, “unusual” and “not universally popular” but was made “because of my experiences and a gut feeling… that some elements of international organised crime might have penetrated our existing intelligence system” (Kelland, 1986: 358-359). Kelland envisaged that the separation would be a temporary measure however; he noted that it was six years before there was full reintegration (Kelland, 1986: 359). Mark believed that his changes fundamentally altered the balance of power between the CID and the uniformed branch in London (Mark, 1878). Cox et al (1977: 218) have argued that though Mark may have been perceived as the “reformers’ champion… some of the people who ought to have been punished were so well entrenched that only time, and the formal process of respectable retirement, could dislodge them”. Hobbs (1988) too has argued that despite his best intentions, Mark left the elitist detective culture fundamentally intact. 45 Kelland was referring to the distrust of the London CID that accompanied two prosecutions of groups of Drugs Squad officers for offences of perjury and attempting to pervert the course of justice (Kelland, 1986: 228-230). 298 Certainly, Mark recognised the need to reform CID governance arrangements by bringing the department under the control of the, more disciplined and better supervised, uniformed branch. However, this study argues that given the sequence of events that culminated in his appointment, it is incongruous that reforms that brought the Met’s divisional detectives under the control of local uniformed commanders should leave specialist squads (perceived to offer the greatest scope for corruption) under the control of the CID. Operation Countryman As if to underline Mark’s failure, the resilience of corruption amongst specialist detectives at Scotland Yard and the inadequacy of CID governance arrangements were demonstrated again in 1978 when accounts emerged of the involvement of Flying Squad detectives in armed robberies (Ball, Chester and Perrott, 1979 cited in Reiner, 2010). McNee (1983) has recorded that in July of that year, Met officers uncovered corrupt relationships between City of London Police officers and career criminals, and brought the matter to the attention of that force. Peter Marshall, the City of London Police commissioner asked the Met to investigate but it soon became obvious that Met officers also were involved in these practices so a decision was made to seek assistance from another force outside London. Marshall approached the Home Office and eventually, under Section 49 of the Police Act 1964, Leonard Burt, an ACC from Dorset Police was appointed as the investigating officer with the agreement and assistance of his chief constable Arthur Hambleton (McNee, 1983). Initially Burt’s terms of reference were set by the City of London Police but when it was confirmed that Met officers were involved, the Met Deputy Commissioner Pat Kavanagh asked Burt to extend his enquiries to the Met. The ‘Operation Countryman’ team of provincial detectives under his command (at one time numbering more than 90 officers) commenced their investigation in London.46 In 1979, Hambleton was satisfied that “there 46 There is disagreement over the origin of the ‘Countryman’ label. McNee (1983) has argued that this was a name that the provincial officers coined for themselves while Hambleton (1982) has suggested it was a pejorative label affixed to the inquiry team by Met detectives. 299 was some truth in the allegations” that had been made against three Commanders, nine Detective Chief Superintendents and Superintendents, 15 Detective Chief Inspectors and Inspectors (DCIs and DIs) , 21 Detective Sergeants (DSs) and 14 Detective Constables (DCs) (Hambleton, 1982: 1). Those allegations included that a senior officer had accepted £20,000 and that “a senior man had accepted the major proceeds of a £40,000 robbery” (Hambleton, 1982: 1). Later that year, (approximately one year after the inquiry had begun) amongst increasing criticism of the Countryman inquiry from senior figures in the Met, Home Office officials and even the Director of Public Prosecutions (DPP), Deputy Commissioner Kavanagh accused Burt and Hambleton of exceeding their brief and directed that any future reports should be investigated by his force. Hambleton claimed obstruction and undue interference by the Met and appealed to the DPP. However, he was overruled and thenceforth all new investigations were adopted by the Met rather than by the Countryman inquiry (Hambleton, 1982: 1). Matters seem to have come to a head when in what McNee has described as “an ill-judged, ill-prepared move” the Countryman team made its first arrest, of a City of London Police DI, for an offence unconnected with the Countryman investigation.47 McNee (1983: 195) records that the “extraordinary way” in which the prosecution was conducted led to the DPP stopping the proceedings, to the fury of Hambleton. Shortly after this event, in late autumn 1979, Hambleton announced that in February 1980 he would be retiring from the police service (McNee, 1983). This was a watershed for the inquiry. Predictably, McNee and Hambleton present conflicting accounts. Hambleton (1982: 1) has complained that the Met deliberately frustrated his enquiries into the corrupt activities of Met detectives while McNee (1983: 195) accused Hambleton of “conducting a private war directed almost exclusively against the Director of Public Prosecutions and the Attorney General” who were both concerned about Hambleton’s lack of progress. In March 1980, Sir Peter Matthews Chief Constable of Surrey took over the 47 Countryman officers took the City of London officer before a Dorset court and objected to his bail so as to (as later admitted by Hambleton (1982)) pressurise him into providing information to the inquiry team. 300 investigation and refocused the team’s efforts on the original allegations (McNee, 1983). The Met took over complete responsibility for investigating all other allegations into its own officers and shortly after (though not, it is claimed, as a direct consequence of that action) a disappointed and disillusioned Hambleton retired from the service. The inquiry continued for almost three more years but without Hambleton or his equally disillusioned deputy Burt (who returned to the Dorset force), Countryman ceased to be a wholly independent inquiry. Alderson (1982: 1) (Chief Constable of Devon and Cornwall Police 1973-1982) has argued that the Countryman inquiry was ‘wound down’ for “political reasons”. Initially, the team was tasked with investigating two robberies in London. However, the extent of the corruption that it uncovered was hugely embarrassing for the Home Office which was responsible for the administration of the Met. Alderson (1982:1) noted that he knew that the Home Secretary William Whitelaw and a former Minister of State Lord Harris “had said that Countryman was getting into channels that it was never intended to do, deep into the Metropolitan Police and that it was unlikely that there would ever be another Countryman exercise - at least not like that”. Alderson’s impression was that “Countryman was not pleasing the Home Office… because the inquiry was widening and becoming so much more serious than anyone had contemplated… it was becoming something of a scandal” (Alderson, 1982: 1). It is reasonable to infer here that Alderson included the Met senior officers, the CID and the Home Office itself in his criticism. The Countryman inquiry ended after four years in what is commonly perceived to be failure. However, even though it secured only two convictions, the inquiry did cast huge doubt on the idea that “endemic corruption in the Yard detective squads had been eliminated” (Reiner, 2010: 82). In the context of this thesis, perhaps of equal if not greater concern was that the CID, in particular the specialist squads, remained unreconstructed and unreformed and continued to practice what Reiner has termed, the “standard method of plain clothes criminal investigation” and he development of close, sometimes intimate, relationships with career criminals as informers in ways that “operated perennially on the 301 borderline of legality” (2010: 82). The relationship between detectives and informers presents a conundrum for police managers. On the one hand, only those with intimate knowledge of a criminal act make useful and productive informers; on the other, those with that level of knowledge are probably involved in the act in some way (perhaps as prospective purchasers of illicit goods or as aiders or abettors of the principal offender). This study argues that too often managers have shown themselves unable or unwilling to solve that problem. 302 Appendix E - Home Office Committee on Detective Work, 1933- 1936 Chaired by A.L. Dixon a Home Office official, the Dixon Committee’s work is particularly significant because it established the pattern of detective work for the rest of the twentieth century. The committee was established on 12th May 1933 to “inquire and report upon the organisation and procedure of the police forces of England and Wales for the purpose of the detection of crime” (MEPO 2/4967, Section 1). The committee was made up of Home Office officials and chief constables. The specific aims of the committee were to: consider the legal and judicial difficulties that hampered investigations, the recasting of criminal statistics, and to enquire into the relations between the uniform and detective branches and the way in which cooperation between the two might be improved in respect of the prevention and detection of crime. Committee members travelled widely in an effort to identify best practice in detective work and held many meetings with “principal detective officers” of British police forces (MEPO 2/4967). The Committee sat for more than three years, delivering its final report at the end of 1936. The following paragraphs summarise the committee’s most relevant observations in the context of this thesis. The collection and sharing of intelligence by and between the different branches of the service were issues that particularly exercised the committee. There was “considerable divergence of opinion” on what records should be kept and a “considerable variation in practice” across forces (MEPO 2/4967 Sub-Committee B, Section 1 - minutes of 28th June 1933). There was “no systematic use of the records maintained at group centres” and even where good records were kept “the investigating officers did not make enough use of them and uniform officers hardly made any use of them at all” (MEPO 2/4967, Section 1 - minutes of 28th June 1933). The committee also found that “There was considerable… divergence in the arrangements for issuing crime information to the uniform branch” and 303 that “in many places there was insufficient communication between the branches” (MEPO 2/4967 Sub-committee C, Section 1 - minutes of 28th June 1933). In the committee’s view “efficient detection” depended upon the capacity of the police “to obtain, sift and draw deductions from information “and therefore “a state of mutual understanding between police and public” was essential (MEPO 2/4967, draft final report - 24). The committee was keen to establish a single system of criminal intelligence records as “an aid to investigation and detection”. It was reported that: Every experienced detective has a store of information of this kind but if it remains personal to himself it necessarily dies with him and even while he lives and is in active service, no use can be made of it except in as far as he can be made personally aware of the details of particular crimes which to him (and possibly to him alone) suggest a certain individual as the perpetrator (MEPO 2/4967 Sub-committee B, Section 1 - report of Sub-committee B). The challenge therefore, was to reduce that information to a form in which it could be systematically recorded and indexed with a view to recognisable characteristics being identified. This was the “main object that the committee’s work in this context was meant to achieve” (MEPO 2/4967, Section 1 - report of Sub-committee B). Despite the committee’s work, it is debatable whether any progress in this context was made until the introduction of UBP some 40 years later and even then it could be argued that progress was limited. The committee recognised the importance of having local and regional/ national criminal records. Recognising the problem of ‘cross-border’ crime, the committee acknowledged that though locally held records were necessary for local criminals “who do not habitually travel from place to place” and committed the bulk of crime, regional/national records were essential for those who “extend their operation over much wider areas” and were often responsible for the more serious crimes (MEPO 2/4967, Section 1 - report of Sub-committee B). Interestingly, in terms of the subsequent development of ‘hotspotting’ and intelligence analysis in the modern era, the committee were not persuaded of the merits of geographic information systems (GIS). Members of the committee were “disposed to think that no very useful purpose would be served by the 304 preparation of elaborate maps or statistics” but it was agreed that this would be explored further by considering what forces (particularly the Metropolitan Police) were doing in this area (MEPO 2/4967, Section 1 - of 28th June 1933). From the outset, the Dixon Committee acknowledged that in many forces, cooperation between the uniform and detective branches continued to be a significant issue and “positive steps” were required to improve it. At its inaugural meeting on 18th May 1933, several chief officers commented upon measures they had taken in their own forces to include uniformed officers in criminal investigations as a means of improving relations with their CID colleagues. There was agreement that the fractious and difficult relationship between the branches was hindering the investigative effort (MEPO 2/4967). CID protectionism was “undesirable” and ultimately inefficient. It was wrong of the department to regard the detection of crime as an entirely specialised form of work to be carried out solely by the CID. The Committee was concerned that where this attitude was allowed to prevail, “efficiency suffers” (MEPO 2/4967, draft final report: 36-37). The minority argument that “uniform officers should not be encouraged to concern themselves” with crime investigation because “they may, by precipitate or ill-informed action, prejudice rather than assist the work of the detectives” was rejected in the cause of that efficiency (MEPO 2/4967, draft final report: 39). The committee established a definition of a ‘detective’ as a police officer “who forms part of the detective organisation of a force which is engaged in specialised crime work and not routine police duties other than crime”. Interestingly in the context of this research, a caveat was added that ‘specialised crime work’ extended to “inquiries and intelligence work” (MEPO 2/4967, Section 1 - minutes of 28 th June 1933). The precise nature of the ‘inquiry and intelligence work’ was not further defined. However, what is clear is that the ‘official’ definition of a detective went beyond commonly accepted descriptions of the role at that time. It may reasonably be assumed that the effect of the Committee’s redefinition of the role was to attach the prestigious label of detective to a wider range of officers than previously had been the case. However, what this meant for 305 CID/uniform relations cannot now be assessed. The committee recommended that Chief Constables should be encouraged to ensure that uniform officers felt a sense of responsibility for the work of crime detection by associating them with detective officers in the investigation of specific cases (MEPO 2/4967). Some interesting ideas were advanced about the selection of CID officers. There was no reason why detectives “should not continue to be selected from the plain clothes branch” (MEPO 2/4967, page 49, lines 1-11). However, a minimum of two years experience in the uniform branch was considered to be “an essential qualification for a detective” (MEPO 2/4967, draft final report: 46-47). Very much a minority view expressed by the chief constable of Derbyshire was that it might be “dangerous to give recruits too great an insight into methods of detection, particularly on the technical side, since men who were rejected might take to crime and use their knowledge to evade conviction”. Unsurprisingly, given the tenor of the rest of the committee’s work, this view was rejected (MEPO 2/4967, minutes of meeting 1st February 1934). Stimulating a debate that has continued to the present day, the committee stated that too much importance was attached to force boundaries “in the ordinary day-to-day work of crime detection” (MEPO 2/4967 page 28, line 36 – page 29, line 22). Because the existing local police system was subject to inherent disadvantages whenever police action needed to be applied “to a common purpose over a wide area” no force could be self-contained in crime matters (MEPO 2/4967, draft final report page 5, lines 18-35). There was a need for the development of “a more effective machinery of cooperation between forces and in particular, for an improved system for inter-force circulations of informations” (MEPO 2/4967, page 19, line 8-27). Indeed, what is remarkable from an examination of the committee’s findings is how little the challenges facing the detective force have changed since the 1930s. The committee’s findings still resonate today. For example, in terms that would be familiar to those involved in Operation Bumblebee or any of the many other anti-burglary initiatives of recent years, the committee noted that the “unsatisfactory position” with regard to the class 306 of offences comprising burglary, housebreaking and shopbreaking constituted “a problem upon which the energies of the police throughout the country should be bent” (MEPO 2/4967, page 19, line 8-27).48 In terms of cross-border crime, the committee noted that 73 percent of detected crime was committed by people living in the police district in which the crime was committed or within 20 miles of its boundary and that “the cases attributable to non- residents and travelling criminals are in general the more serious (MEPO 2/4967 page 16, line 44 – Page 18, line 27). As those committing serious crime often moved from place to place, their investigation merited “concerted measures on the part of all the forces over a wide area or the whole of the country [which necessitated] the institution of specific machinery of cooperation in every branch of detective work” (MEPO 2/4967 page 24, lines 6-33). 48 Operation Bumblebee was first introduced in London in 1993 but has recently been revived in the capital city (see - http://cms.met.police.uk/news/publicity_campaigns/operation_bumblebee__1 accessed 16th July 2010). 307 Appendix F - Pen Picture of Sir David Phillips Phillips began his police career in 1963 in the Lancashire Constabulary. He reached the rank of Chief Superintendent before transferring to Greater Manchester Police (GMP) as an Assistant Chief Constable (ACC). His “first forays” into intelligence work were brought about by the Moss Side riots. As ACC in charge of operations (and responsible for the post-event investigation), Phillips assessed that he was “in receipt of no intelligence worth a damn” to help him. The existing intelligence system in GMP was “restricted to snippets of clandestine information” and, in his view, was unfit for purpose (personal communication with author, 16th April, 2006). Phillips committed himself to persuading his colleagues of the need to develop understanding of their communities. He wrote and presented (mainly to police audiences) a paper entitled ‘The Middle Ground of Policing" which, aimed to show how different elements of the illicit economy were linked together in “a volatile but entirely conventional economic arrangement of mutual dependence… [where] black-market violence and intimidation replace price and advertising as a form of competition” (personal communication with author, 16th April, 2006). The notion of the late-modern city as a market-place or “bazaar” for illicit goods has been explored by Ruggiero and South (1997). Others such as Reuter (1985), Hobbs (1988), Dorn and South (1990), and Ruggiero and Vass (1992), have used a market perspective to examine illicit entrepreneurial activities in their socio-cultural and socioeconomic contexts. Phillips’ thesis focused on the part played by “blundering but well intentioned efforts” of police forces in “crisis” law enforcement activities in this milieu. In his opinion, police efforts upset those economies in ways which led directly (and unnecessarily) to public disorder. In Phillips’ view, other political issues (principally race) became confused in rationalising explanations of that disorder. He was concerned that the police service should not repeat the mistakes of the recent past (personal communication, 16 th April, 2006). 308 Phillips (2006) said that intelligence was at the heart of his ideas for policing in the new millennium. He considered that at its simplest, intelligence implied knowledge of what was likely to happen if events were allowed to progress unimpeded. The first duty of intelligence was description and for police commanders there should be an “inherent assumption” that events could be influenced if they used intelligence properly (Phillips, 2006: 9). Some might argue that (like other chief officers of the period) Phillips was simply responding to demands from the Government for better performance in the face of ever increasing levels of reported crime and poor detection rates. However, perhaps uniquely amongst senior police officers of the time, by his willingness to commit his force to significant structural change, Phillips demonstrated a real commitment to developing investigation and intelligence systems and showed that he valued intelligence work as a “genuine and necessary discipline” for policing (Phillips, 2006: 4).49 At the same time, as secretary of the ACPO Football Hooliganism sub-committee, Phillips established the NFIU where he organised a system of conferences designed to encourage cooperation and coordination between forces and policing partners and wrote a policy document Policing Football to standardise police procedure in that regard. He believed that as a result of those activities “the first profiling and targeting regimes in the police” emerged (D. Phillips, personal communication, with author 16th April, 2006). However, that claim should be considered in the light of the developments in intelligence work in London described earlier. 1989, Phillips left GMP to take up the post of deputy chief constable of Devon and Cornwall Constabulary and in 1993 he became the chief officer control of the Kent Police. Accepting the appointment of chair of the ACPO Crime Committee, Phillips championed a system of prison intelligence that enhanced the ability of prison liaison officers gather intelligence in prisons (Phillips, 2006: 2). In 2001, he became President of ACPO, a position he continued to hold until his retirement on 31 st March 2003. It was during this period that Phillips lobbied the Home Office to adopt the KPM (rebranded as 49 An abridged version of this work later was published as Phillips, Caless and Bryant (2007). Intelligence and its Application to Contemporary Policing. Policing 1(4): 438-446. 309 the NIM) as the standard for operational policing for the new millennium. 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