No Easy Ride: Reflections on My Life in the RCMP (21 page)

These acts of oppression caused many First Nations people to have bitter memories of police. This was further exacerbated when police participated in the apprehension of children who were placed in mission schools to be deprived of their culture and language. Too often, these schools were the scene of horrific abuse, and children were left with vivid memories of police involvement in these traumatic events. The police are one of the primary agencies of the “white world” that First Nations interact with, but their opinion of police is seldom positive. Local Mounties are often viewed with suspicion and only occasionally with begrudging respect.

A federal government study from 2008 reported that 22 percent of the federal inmate population in Canada is of aboriginal descent, a shamefully disproportionate figure considering that First Nations make up only 3 percent of the overall Canadian population. The figures reporting incarceration of aboriginal youth are equally disturbing. The abject poverty, isolation and anomie that afflict Canadian First Nations people are primary factors contributing to anti-social behaviour and alcohol and drug abuse. It is a disturbing issue for law-enforcement personnel, who do not have the tools, wherewithal or mandate to solve such vexing social problems. Yet police continue to be the “arm of power and authority” over those who have no way of escaping the morass of poverty and depression.

It is unsettling that a police force that historically set out to be friend and protector of our First Nations people has somehow become alienated from them. Many questions remain unanswered, even in the 21st century. What is the role of the police in Native law enforcement when, for years, governments have erred and are even now slow to resolve the plight of our First Nations? Should the police turn a blind eye to etiology? Should they ignore social inequities and dispense the law “Without Fear, Favour or Affection”? Such analysis and introspection is a difficult process that tends to place law enforcement on a slippery slope. Some will say this kind of deliberation is not the role of the police; however, I would argue that our craft has reached a level of professionalism that demands critical analysis of our actions in these often precarious social settings.

It is incumbent upon senior police administrators to be aware of social dynamics and ensure that first-line officers understand the reasons behind the problems experienced by the Native communities they serve. Police have historically been given the powerful option of discretion in enforcing laws in our country. This has always been an awesome responsibility. Political pressure is often exerted to direct enforcement to areas with high crime rates, often in less affluent neighbourhoods, and police strive to satisfy political masters yet maintain fairness and equity of enforcement at the same time. Police leaders have a responsibility to act as a buffer for first-line officers who may be exercising innovative enforcement options.

Providing policing service to an aboriginal community requires special skills acquired through additional education and in-service cross-cultural training. Above all, it is important to recruit and encourage members who have an interest in First Nations policing and who are aware of the difficult and disastrous path Native peoples have trod for the past two centuries. To ensure optimum staffing, consideration should be given to offering incentives for aboriginal policing duties, such as service pay and subsequent promotional opportunities. While laws still have to be enforced, and the incorrigible element will always be present, law-enforcement officers who demonstrate knowledge of community history and exhibit empathy and understanding will be viewed by Native citizens as part of the solution, not part of the problem. Recognition of cultural mores and elders has great worth, as does involvement in community events and sporting activities. The police gain respect, confrontations due to alienation are diminished and officers are safer. In addition, qualified aboriginal RCMP members should be identified and promoted in order to participate in the supervision and management of the organization.

Sadly, the difficult transition of our aboriginal peoples into mainstream Canadian society is ongoing. The complex socio-economic problems associated with First Nations communities will remain well into the 21st century. Canadian police need to be viewed as supporting this difficult transition rather than suppressing a people who have been unjustly treated.

MY FIRST YEAR
as a researcher in the RCMP Planning Branch Headquarters, called the Puzzle Palace by many, brought a promotion to sergeant, a host of new experiences and a great deal of learning. During that era, Planning Branch was tasked with forecasting the needs of the Force across Canada and spanned all levels of policing. In January of 1975, I was assigned to a section that responded to various studies as directed by the commissioner’s secretariat. I worked exclusively on a feasibility study on the implementation and ramifications of overtime, gathering and compiling data from across the dominion to assess the impact of paid overtime on the Force. This study gave impetus to one of the most dramatic changes in RCMP history.

The proposal to pay overtime met with initial resistance. I interviewed Superintendent R.H. Simmonds, then officer commanding of Vancouver subdivision, who would later become the commissioner of the RCMP. Simmonds disagreed with any form of overtime payment, remarking that paying overtime would compel him to identify and promote people who could manage resources rather than advancing those individuals who were competent policemen. It seemed that awareness of the two separate sets of skills was a new concept to him. Simmonds emerged from a generation who felt it unnecessary to reward hard work with money. After many interviews, I realized that traditional police managers recognized and rewarded those who logged voluntary hours. The predominant criteria for promotions were policing skills and the number of hours worked. There was little value placed on being a competent and effective administrator of human resources.

Our project chief was Ari Oosthoek, a brilliant young inspector with a master’s degree in sociology. His forte was statistics and mathematical formulae, and his manner of speaking and writing were almost beyond the comprehension of the common man. He was an excellent boss with an incisive mind and did not hide behind his rank. He insisted on candour from his team, listened carefully to feedback and gave credit where credit was due.

The research team travelled to all parts of Canada, interviewing hundreds of members of the RCMP from all ranks and representing as many facets of the Force as possible. When all the data from our study on overtime compensation were cobbled together, we knew how the report was written would be critical to its acceptance by senior management of the RCMP. Inspector Oosthoek wrote the first draft and gathered his team to discuss it. There was an awkward silence in the room, as we all were of the same mind. The report contained so much academic jargon and so many complex statistics that it smothered the reader. We knew if it went out as Ari had put it together, the senior executive of the Force would never absorb it. We also knew the inspector had spent many hours writing the draft, and we were reluctant to criticize it. Finally, Bill Bovey, one of the civilian members of Planning Branch and a veteran of many similar collaborations, turned to Ari and said, “It won’t fly, Sir. It has too much Oosthoekese!”

There was a brief, uncomfortable pause before the inspector’s face broke into a grin and he replied, “You’re right on the money, Bill. Now let’s get to work and put something together that the layperson will be able to read.” Thus began long, arduous sessions of putting Inspector Oosthoek’s very valuable and relevant data into a comprehensible package. It illustrated how well a team can work together, and the format we established was applicable to subsequent projects. As it turned out, Inspector Oosthoek’s report recommended that overtime compensation be implemented forthwith, and senior management of the Force endorsed his position.

Implementation became another complex issue, and it took two or three years before it was resolved. In the first instance, a lump-sum payment to all was considered; then management flirted with the option of paying these lump sums only to field personnel. Next, the option of paying lieu hours was considered. Finally, a form was designed for hourly compensation. The concept was greeted with great skepticism, and some subdivision OCs forbade the submission of overtime claims. The Division Representative System became active, lobbying and representing members submitting grievances for unpaid overtime. Around 1977 a system of precise payment of overtime hours worked was implemented.

Overtime payments soon began to have an impact on both individual members and the organization. In order to cope with the requirement to pay overtime, the Force concentrated on more efficient shifting of human resources. The organization transformed in ways never imagined by the veterans, as commanders were compelled to work within human resource budgets. The requirement to pay overtime inflicted budgetary chaos upon an organization that had always enjoyed seemingly unlimited free labour.

With no bottomless pit of manpower, unit commanders were compelled to prioritize incoming calls for service. A classic example was the community’s expectation of immediate response to private and business alarms. With the proliferation of electronic alarm systems, frequent false alerts became a problem. It was necessary to restrict police attendance to such calls. This led to the appearance of new security firms to fill in for police who no longer had the resources to respond. These developments were only the opening salvo for harried detachment commanders. The first ominous cracks began to appear in the previously unassailable RCMP reputation. After the introduction of overtime, the RCMP would never again achieve adequate human resources to sufficiently compensate for the thousands of gratis hours dedicated personnel worked in the past. It was as if half of the operational complement had just walked out the door and left a very large and unexpected outstanding bill in its wake. Something would have to give, and administrators were not sure how it would all unfold.

As the Force emerged into the world of finite human resources, traditionalists decried the death of
esprit des corps
. Members completed their duties during their shifts and went home instead of hanging around the office waiting for the phone to ring. Yet, interestingly, having the benefit of fresh personnel coming on shift to deal with incoming investigations and complaints enhanced professionalism. Traditionally, life in the Force had been regarded as a vocation akin to the priesthood, but now members began to enjoy life away from the job, with many adopting healthier lifestyles. With more disposable income due to overtime, they were free to marry earlier and accumulate the trappings of married life, including homes and mortgages. The long-held rituals of back-room beer bashes were losing their attraction. Members with young children and wives to support and lawns to cut now had competing priorities.

In addition to the payment of overtime, an important organizational change occurred within the RCMP when women donned the storied red serge and began to serve as regular members in 1975. This momentous decision would have an irreversible impact on the Force in ways never anticipated or expected. From the moment the first female recruit entered the training grounds in Regina, policy makers began to discover factors they had overlooked. Incorporating women in the ranks was largely a process of trial and error, which gave the appearance that the organization had not consulted with other police forces that had included women earlier. The first indoctrination troops to include women were solely female, but later they were trained in troops with men. Dormitories and washroom facilities were inadequate, and the first female uniforms were poorly designed, with flaws eventually identified and changed over a period of years. The entire training division seemed to heave with awkwardness and discomfort. When the first women graduated and were dispersed across the country, supervisors either did not want women on the worksite or tried to be overprotective. Wives of serving members contributed to the negative reception by expressing their discomfort and dissatisfaction with having their spouses working with women. Indeed, the first female RCMP members entered an organization that was not ready for them.

Other important changes had occurred during the early 1970s. At this time, dissatisfaction with working conditions erupted into open rebellion across the Force. Several members were advocating the formation of a union, and the masses were listening. Overtime was not yet being paid, members on call were not reimbursed and too many worksites were understaffed. Commissioner Maurice Nadon appointed several senior officers to travel across the country and listen to the grievances of members. As a result of these meetings, serving members were elected as division representatives by their peers. They were given full-time duties to listen to complaints and advance these to management. Today, staff relations representatives monitor member concerns, sit on committees for pay review and kit and clothing, and generally have freedom to express criticism. The existence of this system has averted the formation of a union or association within the RCMP to this day, and many police forces around the world have studied this model.