Policing has a problem with accountability – one that I saw throughout my time as an officer and, later, as chief constable. This stems from the belief, held by much of the police service, that it is under constant attack from all sides, and that a lily-livered leadership is failing to support it, or understand the challenges of delivering frontline policing. The narrative of the “hero cop” looms large, as does the notion of the “thin blue line”, which has other connotations in the US, but in the UK symbolises the cops holding back the tide of lawlessness in the face of a hostile public and press.
As a result, too many officers believe that the law applies differently to them. That can result in an unwarranted arrest here, a strip-search there, checking police systems for contact details, and worse. Many officers believe that if you are doing your job properly you will be on the receiving end of complaints. The abuse of power is ingrained in policing.
And so I was unsurprised by the decision of some Met firearms officers to down their weapons after an officer was charged with the murder of Chris Kaba in September 2022. This behaviour was akin to a tantrum thrown by a toddler when deprived of their favourite toy, but it was also utterly logical when seen through the lens I describe above. As of 29 September they have returned to normal service, but this apparent act of solidarity for a colleague was another symptom of a self-serving minority – or, as Louise Casey, the author of a damning report on the Met, described it, “a dark corner of the Met”.
Firearms officers in particular seem to believe that the rest of the police service and the public should be more grateful for their decision to carry a firearm. Yet no one is above the law and due process should and must follow. I would argue that the standard has to be even higher for police officers, given the legal powers they hold. I was never an authorised firearms officer (AFO) myself – in my force in the late 80s, women weren’t allowed to be. But for many years I was a tactical and then strategic firearms commander and knew through my training that I was completely accountable for the decisions I did or didn’t make. AFOs know that they will be held to the highest levels of scrutiny – this is reinforced throughout their firearms training.
Admittedly, that’s easy to say and much harder to live through. Scrutiny and accountability are deeply uncomfortable. Others picking over what did or didn’t happen over agonisingly long periods and passing judgment on your actions is tough and frequently career-threatening.
The Met chief, Mark Rowley, needs to decide where he stands: does he prioritise backing his officers or building trust with the communities he and his officers serve? The open letter he wrote to the home secretary made clear where his loyalty lies. While dressed in the rhetoric of reform, it showed that he backed his officers over the public. Is the accountability system for policing perfect? No. But the changes Rowley suggests, whether in the public interest or not, would require legislation to be enacted – which would take years. In the short term, the letter has merely appeased arrogant officers, and set out a platform for lower, not higher, standards.
Meanwhile, Suella Braverman’s intervention was extraordinary even by her standards, in endorsing the “hero-cop” narrative and commissioning yet another review. I trust history won’t treat her kindly.
At the heart of all this is a grieving family. It seems that too many involved have lost sight of this. Their loss is enormous and at the very least they deserve honesty, transparency, and justice to be served.
I have huge respect for the role of firearms officers and appreciate the extra burden that this places on them and their families. They are volunteers, but they are not indispensable. They must be accountable to the law – as we all are.
Sue Fish is a former police officer who served as Nottinghamshire’s chief constable from 2016 to 2017
