A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives

This blog has been written in response to a worrying piece I read the other day, posted on here. I found myself getting angrier and angrier as I read the piece which had been written by a serving male police officer. 

In this well written and very personal and honest piece the officer talked about his why.  He joined the police to ‘do the right thing’ but from the outset he communicates “My journey has broken me”.  As someone said on Twitter in response, “Are we in 2020?”.  I tend to agree.  Why is there still so much stigma around men and mental health?

At a time when we know so much about mental health and how to support others, the whole piece communicated a lack of knowledge and a lack of awareness in how to support others.  I often hear about officers talking about the pressures of the job and how poor mental health is common.  Whilst there are support services out there, we are all on the front line when it comes to these and many other issues.  We should all have access to basic skills to help knowing we can refer to others.

The officer is completely honest.  He demonstrates what I refer to as a ‘Revolutionary Honesty’, a need to talk openly about experiences and vulnerability.  In many ways what you promote you permit.  I admire him for this honesty.  We all should.

Despite the pressures experienced from attending calls, he says “it’s the lack of support, he can’t handle”.  The lack of support from colleagues who in my view should simply be there for each other, presents his greatest challenge.  He says, “I’ve looked to my colleagues, my brothers and sisters for help, and I’ve found my calls fall on deaf ears”.

At a time when we talk about the ‘Thin Blue Line’ I ask you – when on the continuum of mental health do you intervene?  Do we wait until an officer goes off sick or, do we talk about how good they were after a tragedy?

Now some of you may feel it’s unfair for me to be critical of officers, especially when they don’t really receive any practical training in this area.  Some of you may feel we need to use the directness I’ve communicated above.  I sit in both camps.

Policing is a family but it’s a family, a culture where people often don’t want to get involved in the personal business of others.  It’s also a male dominated culture within a culture where the narrative is that men don’t want to talk about this type of stuff.  You know what they do.

So, whilst we need some directness, I also want to take on board a message which a great US Civil Rights leader once conveyed:

“Don’t be in such a hurry to condemn a person just because they don’t think as you think or do as you do.  There was a time when you didn’t know what you know today.

So, my message to policing is to create conversations where the norm is to look out for your colleagues.  Conversations where we help officers spot the signs of poor mental health and where we give them the words and skills to be there for a colleague.  

Mental health training for officer’s is needed and needed fast.  We need to move beyond what support is out there and ‘help officers help their colleagues’.  

The quote I used as a title for this blog was said by the great US Baseball player Jackie Robinson.  It suggests life’s most important question “What are you doing for others?”

If you can’t look out for others, who’s looking out for you?

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