Power Trip: The Psychology Behind Police Brutality and Reforming Law Enforcement.
When I was 20, I “borrowed” my parents’ car (as you do) to drive out and visit a friend who lived a few towns away.
About half-way through the drive from Toronto, I saw red flashing lights behind me on the highway. I immediately pulled onto the shoulder, rolled the window down, and waited.
I was a good, safe driver with a clean record, and although I’d been keeping up with traffic, I was also over the posted limit by about 20 km — an easy thing to do without noticing in my dad’s smooth, 8-cylinder Infiniti.
To my surprise, three Ontario Provincial Police officers surrounded my vehicle. They didn’t look much older than I was.
The one at my window spoke. In a rougher than anticipated tone, he asked if I knew why they had pulled me over. I answered that I realize I had been over the speed limit and apologized. He then asked me why I hadn’t pulled over “immediately.” Confused, I replied that as soon as I saw their lights behind me, I pulled the car over as quickly as I could.
What happened next is something I’m not likely to forget in my privileged lifetime.
His tone now officially harsh, the officer leaned in and informed me they had been following me with lights and siren on for several kilometres, good thing I stopped when I did, and I was lucky they didn’t “pull their guns on me.”
Heart pounding and shocked, I tried to process — the visual of three guns pointed at me making it hard to focus. I knew they weren’t behind me for more than a few seconds.
He asked for my license and insurance. Fortunately, I was insured on my dad’s car. Unfortunately, I’d forgotten the insurance and ownership papers at home.
At that point, the officer grilled me about whose car it was, why I was driving it, and where I was going. As calmly as I was able, I explained myself. Then he and his colleagues went back to their car to run my license.
For the 10 minutes or so I waited, I honestly believed they might arrest me. And I was scared.
They didn’t. They gave me 3 tickets with $400 in fines and demerit points for speeding, failure to produce insurance, and resisting to pull over to an officer.
Sadly, and as inappropriate as they were, my experience pales frightfully in comparison to what countless others in our communities have had to deal with every day. For centuries.
I’m a light-skinned, Canadian female of South Asian descent. I was just 20 years old. I don’t even think the officers who pulled me over that day were motivated by racism.
Imagine what might have happened if they were.
Misconduct by those with power has a long history.
The recent incident involving the infuriating, heartbreaking, and graphic murder of George Floyd in the United States has understandably fanned the flames of public rage, indignation, and just plain sadness over pervasive systemic discrimination, unrelenting racial inequality, and a long history of excessive use of force by police in the black community.
As the world grapples with coronavirus for the past 6 months, racism is a deadly disease that has infected society since the beginning of time.
So is the abuse of power.
From King Henry the VIII to priests of the Catholic Church, right up to the current POTUS … cruelty, violence, and the misconduct of those in official capacities with power is well documented.
Police officers have power. A lot. Theirs is a branch of law enforcement whose power can be executed immediately, occurs in situations of high emotional intensity, and has the potential to be lethal. That, in and of itself, is daunting.
One of the first places my eyes travel to when I’m in close proximity of a police officer is to his or her gun. It’s an instinct.
But not everyone in a position of power will abuse it.
And clearly, not all police officers resort to bullying tactics, excessive force, or brutality.
What causes a person who has power to abuse it?
Assuming a person isn’t a psychopath or suffering from a mental illness that impairs reality perception, what then causes a person who has power to abuse it?
People who are drawn to careers in law enforcement are often those who want to help others, protect people and communities, and make a difference.
They also tend to be higher in the natural human traits of Social Dominance and aggression, and lower in traits like empathy and humanity.
Social Dominance (SD) refers to one’s degree of preference for social hierarchies as opposed to equal relationships. It is higher in males when compared to females. High SD individuals look for hierarchy-enhancing career roles (e.g. law enforcement) and relate more to ideologies that support group-based hierarchies (e.g. racism).
SD also tends to increase over time for people in positions of power. And it is negatively correlated with the traits of tolerance and communality.
Call me crazy … but I want the people who have been selected to ‘serve and protect’ my community to not have a low sense of communality. The prospect is about as reassuring as a surgeon with shaky hands.
Deeply Embedded Police Culture
Another issue is the nature of the deeply embedded culture of law enforcement, which — like the culture of any organization — is formed from the top down.
Research has shown that police officers who were considered successful — as indicated by positive evaluations from superiors and salary increases — also tended to score higher on racism and ethnocentricism.
Studies conducted on the LAPD (Los Angeles Police Department) have shown that officers with the highest number of complaints against them for brutality and use of excessive force also tended to have significantly more positive performance evaluations from their superiors, and more opportunities for upward mobility on the force.
This suggests that these individuals and institutions both reward and reinforce one another’s Social Dominance tendencies, making the associated behaviours formidable and hard to change.
Furthermore, research has shown that White police academy recruits become progressively more negative toward Blacks during their first year and half on the force.
Moreover, the nature of much police work is high-stress — particularly in densely populated urban centres — and they remain inclined to view taking the psychological assistance made available to them on staff as “weak” as opposed to a “vital necessity” for the job.
Taken together, law enforcement officials are often sorely deficient in emotional fitness.
And this puts them and their superiors at high risk of abusing their positions of power.
George Floyd and Derek Chauvin
Derek Chauvin is the former Minneapolis police officer who last month knelt on an unarmed man’s neck for nearly 9 minutes, killing him in the process.
George Floyd was that unarmed man; visibly restrained, in distress, and who audibly begged to Chauvin for his life for most of those 9 minutes.
That’s a long time. More than enough to consider what you’re doing, and the ramifications.
Here is what is known about Chauvin at the time of this writing. He worked for the Minneapolis Police Department for more than 18 years. He had 18 prior complaints filed against him with the MPD’s Internal Affairs.
The nature of the complaints is unknown, though Chauvin is alleged to have received verbal reprimands for using a “demeaning tone,” “derogatory language,” and other language that warranted discipline.
Two of the 18 complaints were “closed with discipline.” In both cases, the discipline constituted letters of reprimand.
First responders in law enforcement must be held to the highest standards of emotional fitness.
The problems and forces that exist and lead to this devastating incident — and so many others before it — are complex to say the least. It is evident that reformation of police departments and the criminal justice system is crucial yet has consistently failed to occur.
Successful reformation of police departments begins with emotional intelligence and fitness and ends with transparency and accountability.
And it starts from point A.
Recruitment into law enforcement should involve language centred around “serving”, “community”, and “equalizing” as opposed to “protecting” and “saving.”
Formalized training of recruits in empathy, open-mindedness, agreeableness, pro-sociality, mental acuity, and self-regulation must be implemented — with high standards of all psychological traits met before providing a “badge” and especially a gun.
Explicit and ongoing training in anti-racism at every level of law enforcement is a necessity. Standards must be clear and high. Zero tolerance to not meeting them — along with consequences that are in direct proportion to any transgression — must become the realized reality.
Racial diversity of recruits should be as equal as possible.
The raising of conscious awareness around police officers’ own internally held beliefs, ideologies, and plain old “baggage” is critical. This is to avoid the projection of their own problems, past trauma, or agenda while they are in a position of serving someone else.
As a therapist, I am in a position of power when a client is in front of me. As part of my training and education, there is considerable emphasis on how to consciously “equalize” the therapeutic relationship through self-awareness.
Additionally, as providers of a service to the public (healthcare), a therapist’s record of professional conduct — along with any complaints filed against them, the nature of those complaints, and how they were resolved — are available to the public.
There should be no less than this standard of professionalism, transparency, and accountability in our officials of law enforcement.
Based on research on the relationships between time spent in positions of power and anti-social-type personality traits, front-line work in law enforcement should be limited to 5–10 years.
In addition, shifts for front-line officers should be significantly shorter in duration or, in the case where lengthy shifts are necessary, occur far more infrequently — with extended periods of “off-duty” time in between.
We must continue to research the phenomena of police brutality, racism, and the ripple effects of both to our communities and to society. We must be curious and invested in what has worked, what hasn’t worked, and work hard to continuously improve.
Change is within our collective power.
We must also accept that these kinds of changes won’t come easily or overnight.
But we must also understand that change is very much within all of our collective power. Peacefully and purposefully.
As citizens and communities, we must take it upon ourselves to become educated in the basics of the law and our own human rights.
We must also confront how we behave in our homes. How we treat people in our communities. What we teach our children. And who we vote to take reformative action and represent us at all levels.
Will the system ever be perfect? No.
Will errors of impulse, poor judgement, and abuse of power still occur, on both sides of law enforcement? Yes.
But it can be so much better. It has to be better. I don’t think the post-pandemic world will be able to withstand anything less.
Lucky for my 20-year old self, the friend I was driving to visit’s father was a police officer (and from what I could tell, a damn good one). In a twist of irony, the district I was pulled over in was close by to where he lived. On my day in front of the judge, he kindly showed up and told my story. I ended up with an $80 fine for speeding, and no demerit points.
I never found out what measures — if any — were taken to address the behaviour of the officers who pulled me over.
when we oppress others… we oppress ourselves
Natasha Sharma is a writer with a Doctorate in Psychology. Her 2018 doctoral dissertation research focussed on the causes and effects of bullying and abusive behaviour in children and adults. She is the Creator of The Kindness Journal: 6 Minutes A Day To Happiness, and co-founder of The 8-Hour Therapist. Start journalling here —> The Kindness Journal Jumpstart Kit.
