Give the Met real muscle

The Government proposes to merge police forces in all but the one place it would make sense - London. But the post-7/7 city needs joined-up policing

Published in the Evening Standard 5 January 2006

Tony Blair is a man in a hurry. Ever since he announced that this would be his last term as prime minister, he has acted as if there is not a second to lose. Policies that would normally be introduced and debated gradually are now rammed through at breakneck speed, whether it be his post-7/7 plan to fight terrorism – floated in August and partially defeated by November– or an education overhaul that has gone from vague proposal to parliamentary bill in a matter of weeks. He may even want to squeeze in a quick war before he goes, so don't go booking any holidays in Tehran.

Nothing typifies this Supermarket Sweep approach to governance – shoving as much in the political trolley as he can before his time runs out – as the PM's proposed shake-up of Britain's police forces. In November the country's 43 forces were put on notice that they were to be cut down to as few as 12: there would be just six weeks for consultation and no Commons debate.

This, like so many decisions taken in a hurry, is a bad idea. The new regional forces will cover vast, sprawling areas with no meaningful identity. They will be anonymous, composite bodies far removed from the people they're meant to serve. If you live in Shrewsbury or Hereford you could well find your “local” policeman gets his instructions from Birmingham. Notice a break-in in Chatham, and you could be phoning the details to a desk sergeant in Brighton.

It's not like we don't know why this is a mistake. We already have experience of these mega-forces, thanks to the last Conservative government whose own round of mergers cut the number of constabularies by two thirds. In 2003 the right-leaning Policy Exchange think tank analysed government statistics and found “no evidence that larger, amalgamated forces are generally more effective or offer better value for money.”

What they discovered instead was something our own instincts could have told them: that when it comes to policing, the more local the better. Fighting crime means knowing the backstreets of an area, its shops and pubs, its quirky rhythms and customs and, above all, its people. That can't be done from a head office 200 miles away. Dixon may not live in Dock Green any more – but he shouldn't be based a motorway drive away either. As Policy Exchange concluded: “Smaller forces with a strong commitment to visible policing are among the most successful at cutting crime and providing public reassurance.”

The United States understood that long ago. There is no Texas police force, no California constabulary. Instead each city – even each small town – has its own police department, its funds raised locally, its chief appointed directly by the local mayor. (I remember my own surprise, as a correspondent in the US in the 1990s, at seeing squad cars pulling up bearing the municipal insignia of Enid, Oklahoma or, my own favourite, Normal, Illinois.) The FBI fights crimes that are national in nature, but otherwise it's down to the most local level possible: a distinct police department for every distinct community. The results are plain to see, the best known being New York's phenomenal turnaround under former mayor Rudy Giuliani, who saw crime fall by 61 per cent in less than ten years.

Blair's approach is in the opposite direction, taking us closer to the French model under which most policing falls under two centrally-run forces. When smaller, more local forces pop up, the centre immediately seeks to assert control – just as Britain's Home Office constantly bombards chief constables with Whitehall-devised targets and nationally-dictated strategies. The top-down, French model hasn't worked in France, where violent crime is still rising – and there's no reason why it should work here.

There is, however, one exception, one place where a possible merger of forces could make sense – and it is London. Right now, the Met polices most of the capital, of course, but there are two gaping holes in its authority. The dimensions of the first gap are exactly one square mile. For the City of London retains its very own police force, even its own uniform. As a localist, I like the eccentricity of that anomaly – but it can hardly be defended. It's as if the NYPD covered all New York, except for Wall Street. With London the key British target for potential terrorists, it makes no sense – and causes some operational hassles – to have a central area under separate jurisdiction. I'm told the Met still scratches its head at the City police's decision in the minutes after the 7/7 bombings to order all mobile phone service in the area switched off. The phone companies obeyed and the lines duly went down. If that step had been taken across London, it would have risked mass panic – as anxious people tried and failed to contact each other.

The City says it's coped well with terrorism before: witness the effective ring of steel it installed after the IRA bombs of 1992. Such steps could still be taken under a single Met, but they would be part of a coherent strategy for the whole capital. The same goes for the other gap in the Met's current turf. As things stand, protection of the Underground and commuter trains falls under the British Transport Police. Complain about, say, a ticket tout who operates in and out of Wembley Park tube station and you'll have two police forces shrugging their shoulders and pointing at each other, both saying “It's their job, not ours.”

All this cries out for integration, making the Met a single, London-wide force, including both trains and the Square Mile. Yet, insanely, the current government proposal is for the City to keep its own separate force – even as the likes of Kent, Surrey and Sussex lose theirs. It makes no sense at all. But that's what comes of governing in a hurry.

Posted on January 5, 2006 10:30 AM

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