The Stories We Tell

Stories matter.

The ones we hear and the ones we tell.

For the past six or seven years, I’ve been telling stories about policing. About the everyday heroism of the overwhelming majority of women and men who do the Job: about their compassion and courage; their selflessness and sacrifice; their humility and humanity; about extraordinary duties performed beyond the view of most ordinary people. About the damage done by politicians and the generational consequences of austerity. About the overwhelming need to properly understand the actual causes of a wide range of societal problems if we’re ever to have any hope of solving them. About the long-term personal costs of a life lived in blue. Because it would be impossible to do the job of a police officer for any length of time and to remain untouched - unaffected - by the things you see and the things you do.

Stories matter, you see.

Sometimes, I’ve also needed to tell the stories of policing done wrong. Of unthinkable acts performed. Of desperate mistakes made. Of the inevitable, devastating consequences when those things happen. Because we must never, ever shy away from holding policing up to the light.

That said, there remains a pressing need to find a far greater balance in the stories being told - a balance so often absent from a public discourse about policing that focuses relentlessly on the negative. Because, for every tale you might tell me about policing done wrong, I could tell you a hundred involving the kind of bravery and brilliance that would likely take your breath away. And then I could tell you a hundred more.

Stories matter, you see.

This is the first blog that I’ve written in a while - partly because I’m in the middle of writing a new book, partly because I’ve needed to take an extended break from the news, and partly because I’m very conscious of the fact that - five years into retirement - an old copper can begin to lose touch with how things really are for the officers and staff who are out there now, taking the calls.

Theirs are stories that demand to be heard.

In the meantime, I plan to keep on writing. And, though the stories I’m telling these days are more likely to found in the fiction section of your local bookshop, they will continue to celebrate the extraordinary women and men who stand on the thin blue line. And, in that sense, they will remain as true as any tale I’ve ever told.