CHAPTER
ONE
INTRODUCING THE LANDSCAPE AND
EXPERIENCE
We live in a landscape of
discourses , a landscape dotted with landmarks marking
boundaries; structuring our daily living; providing safety
and order. We attach great value to familiar
landmarks.
But a landscape punctuated by
dominating and oppressive landmarks may also lead to a sense
of claustrophobia. More so, living in a landscape where the
boundaries serve as restraints, may result in confinement
rather than orderly living.
(Myburg 2000:5)[Myburg's
emphasis]
1.1 EXPECTATIONS OF RESPECTFUL
POLICE PRACTICE
It is part of the landscape of
expectation and public discourse of most South Africans (but
unfortunately not always part of their landscape of
experience) that the state should guarantee public safety
and order. The South African Police Service (SAPS) Code of
Conduct, values and mission statement (see Appendix A)
reflect the expectation that the police are expected to
protect everyone's rights, to be impartial, respectful, open
and accountable to the community. The police are expected to
use their powers in a responsible way, and to provide
'effective and high-quality service with honesty and
integrity' (SAPS 1999:1). These are also the expectations of
respectful policing held by many members of the police when
they join the service. However, many policemen and -women
are unable to fulfil their youthful ideals of such
respectful practice and are faced with the realities of
often disrespectful police practice, which may involve
stressful experiences of traumatic events and racism. The
experiences of these police officers, restrained by various
discourses, can have tragic consequences for these officers'
lives:
Coils entwine me.
I am constricted
unto death.
The end being the same, I merely
shorten the pre-
liminaries, taking
release.
Do not weep. It is you who put
off
This ending so long.
(Walker 2000)
Bill's* story is that of an officer
from the police station where this study was conducted:
The apartment is sparsely
furnished. The winter sun streams in through dirty windows,
highlighting the drabness and the dust on the coffee table.
Overflowing ashtrays are dotted about the room. In a chair
in the corner sits a tall, well-built young man, smoking,
his body bent over, appearing aged. The once beautiful
curtain hangs limply, not caring whether it covers the
window or not. Nothing matches.
A police captain smartly dressed in
his uniform rubs his hand over his cropped hair, and motions
for me to sit down near the young man. The service pistol
with which the young man had threatened to take his life is
lying safely at the captain's feet. It almost resembles one
of those life-like toys small boys use in a game of cops and
robbers. We were responding to a call for help, a threatened
police suicide.
The young man, a sergeant, is stone
cold sober. His half-written suicide note lies on the table
in a school jotter. His children stand around bewildered,
frightened. His colleagues pop in to inquire if there are
'problems'. Everyone looks concerned, nervous, frightened.
Everybody speaks in whispers, as though afraid of saying the
wrong thing.
Bill is a respected and well-loved
member of the shift command. His last shift ended more than
forty-eight hours ago. He has not slept much since then. He
appears unkempt and sweaty. He repeatedly runs his fingers
through his hair. Then he jumps up in search of his
cigarettes.
Nightmares haunt him. He sees a
severed hand, reaching out to him. He runs but cannot outrun
the hand. It seems to have obtained a life of its own. The
memory of the hand stems from an accident scene he attended
more than two years ago. A truck collided with a car,
killing the driver of the car. Bill attended to the
traumatised witnesses and bystanders, cordoned off the scene
of the accident, recorded the events in the prescribed
manner and informed the deceased's next of kin of his death.
And then he went on to the next call. He did not receive any
form of debriefing. He drank more and more. He eventually
received treatment for alcohol abuse. But the victim's
severed hand haunted him. He still cannot get away from it.
Financial difficulties prevent him
from paying his outstanding accounts and the municipality
has informed him of its intention to disconnect his
electricity. His relationship with his wife had ended in
divorce. The domestic worker who cleans his apartment had
not come to work that day. During his last shift he had
witnessed another traumatic incident. His promotion had been
denied. It had all become too much. He saw no hope, no way
out, no future.
He did not speak to his colleagues
on his shift about the horror he had experienced at a recent
crime scene, because everybody else appeared to be handling
it well enough. No one flinched, or even made a comment. He
did not speak out because he had been treated for
post-traumatic stress before and did not want his colleagues
to think he could not cope. They all seemed to be coping
perfectly, so he kept quiet. He did what was expected of
him, and came home after work to his world of nightmares.
The nightmare became such a reality that his service pistol
seemed to be his last resort.
Admission to a psychiatric clinic
for emergency treatment saved Bill's life. But the police
service has lost him. His expertise and experience leave the
service with him. He has become one of the statistics:
medical disability due to work-related secondary (and
possibly primary) traumatic stress.
Bill's story exemplifies the
personal trauma police officers experience daily at the
busy, urban police station where this study was conducted.
Bill's story relates only one person's experience of life in
the police service. This study hopes to introduce to you the
stories of some of the other officers from this specific
police station (see Chapter Three, Section 3.6).
The public expects the police to
meet its expectations of respectful practice and to deliver
a professional and effective service. The officers have the
same goal, but find themselves the captives of various,
often conflicting, discourses in a changing world. My role
as pastoral narrative therapist is to deconstruct problem
narratives (stories) by exploring subjugated marginalised
narratives, discovering unique outcomes and strengthening
steps of resistance in order to make possible respectful
police practice instead of remaining oppressed by
restrictive discourses.
1.1.1 Deconstructing trauma and
racism
In the words of White (1992:121):
I should preface this discussion of
deconstruction with an admission &endash; I am not an
academic, but, for the want of a better word, a therapist.
It is my view that not being situated in the academic world
allows me certain liberties, including the freedom to break
some rules &endash; for example to use the term
deconstruction in a way that may not be in accord with its
strict Derridian sense
According to White (1992:121), a
rather loose definition of deconstruction has to do with
procedures that
subvert taken-for-granted realities
and practices; those so-called 'truths' that are split off
from the conditions and the context of their production,
those disembodied ways of speaking that hide their biases
and prejudices, and those familiar practices of self and of
relationships that are subjugating of persons' lives. Many
of the methods of deconstruction render strange these
familiar and everyday taken-for-granted realties and
practices by objectifying them. In this sense, the methods
of deconstruction are methods that 'exoticize the
domestic'.
As the study progressed, I realised
that it would be impossible to restrict the research process
to the deconstruction of secondary trauma and racism, as the
police officers were experiencing direct trauma as well as
secondary trauma or compassion fatigue. The officers
themselves did not distinguish between direct and secondary
trauma, but simply referred to 'stress'. Bill's story
illustrates the combination of trauma experienced by these
officers. Thus, the study generally refers to 'stress' or
'trauma', using specific examples in many instances, and to
racism.
1.2 FACING THE SHAME OF THE PAST
In the year 2000, it was six years
after South Africa had celebrated its peaceful transition
from white minority rule to democracy. The transition has
affected all South Africans and has had an influence on
South African society at every level of its existence. These
changes, 'the political and social disharmonies in South
Africa' have 'affected, some would say infected, all aspects
of life in this country' (Finn & Gray 1992:v), producing
substantial shifts in the way South Africans experience the
world. The need to face the country's history and cope with
the changes is a call to all South Africans to act and think
in new ways. Change brings with it a fear of the unknown,
challenging fundamental 'truths' and perceptions. Power
relationships and the status of people often shift when
socio-political changes occur, bringing about uncertainty
and insecurity. Political change has also had a profound
impact on the SAPS.
South African society has changed
dramatically, as have South Africans' ways of experiencing
the changes around them. For members of the police these
social and political changes are so significant that they
call into question the very core of policing. Past and
current South African historical-political contexts continue
to leave a profound mark on the national police service.
During four decades of minority rule, the police were
responsible for the maintenance of law and order. During
those years, however, maintaining law and order meant more
than crime prevention. It also involved the implementation
of apartheid laws. Many members of the police witnessed
terrible acts and events. Many were unwilling or reluctant
witnesses, working in a state of 'cultivated blindness'
(Asmal, Asmal & Roberts 1997:145), while others
willingly participated. It may be argued that the latter
officers, blinded by the patriotic, nationalist discourse of
white supremacy, may have participated in the belief that
they were 'fighting for South Africa'.
When the Truth and Reconciliation
Commission exposed the atrocities of apartheid, the world
witnessed the horrors of that system. The old SAP was often
implicated in brutal events, and policemen and -women
emerged as perpetrators of human rights violations (Meiring
1999:254). Even today, six years later, the police are still
burdened by the political legacy of apartheid. Mbeki
(1999:1) even claims that a culture had developed among the
police which enabled them to get rid of people by any means
they wished to use, as is suggested also in the following
poem, 'In Detention':
He fell from the ninth
floor
He hanged himself
He slipped on a piece of soap while
washing
He hanged himself
He slipped on a piece of soap while
washing
He fell from the ninth
floor
He hanged himself while
washing
He slipped from the ninth
floor
He hung from the ninth
floor
He slipped on the ninth floor while
washing
He fell from a piece of soap while
slipping
He hung from the ninth
floor
He washed from the ninth floor
while slipping
He hung from a piece of soap while
washing
(Van Wyk 1992:136)
The Truth and Reconciliation
Commission also exposed the role the criminal justice system
played during the apartheid regime (Krog 1998; Meiring
1999). An abusive criminal justice system enforced white
segregationist laws and prisoners had very few rights:
We tried many cases of police
brutality, though our success rate was quite low. Police
assaults were always difficult to prove. The police were
clever enough to detain a prisoner long enough for the
wounds and bruises to heal, and often it was simply the word
of a policeman against our client. The magistrates naturally
sided with the police. The coroner's verdict on a death in
police custody would often read 'Death due to multiple
causes' or some vague explanation that let the police off
the hook.
(Mandela 1994:176)
Members of the judicial system
formed an integral part of the oppressive apartheid system
through 'their straightforward role in implementing
apartheid legislation, and especially because of their
enthusiasm in so doing, the courts, with a few honourable
exceptions, became active partisan upholders of apartheid'
(Asmal et al 1997:126). Despite far-reaching legal changes
towards a democratic constitution, attention to equality
before the law for all South African citizens, and changing
the name of the police organisation from a 'force' to a
'service', the legacy of police brutality remains, fostering
community distrust in the police and the judicial system.
The members of the SAPS still carry the burden of this
legacy, inherited from their predecessors in the old
SAP:
Within the police force
traditional baas en kneg (master and servant) attitudes
still survive and sometimes dominate at the expense of the
community policing models that are being introduced in the
new South Africa.
(Asmal et al 1997:127)
Police work is intimately linked to
the judicial system. Police officers are supposed to be
responsible for the gathering of evidence to prove, beyond
reasonable doubt, that a suspect has committed a particular
offence. The suspect must then be apprehended and brought to
trial. However, despite the fact that the new constitution
adheres to international law, there appear to be some
serious dilemmas that frustrate the attempts of the SAPS in
its fight against crime. Severe concerns about the current
state of the judicial system and the police service were
recently voiced by the South African Broadcasting
Corporation (SABC), during a panel discussion broadcast on
SABC 3 (Mbuli 2000). Firstly, there are many problems that
complicate a speedy conclusion to cases in court.
Furthermore, the panel remarked on the inefficiency of the
SAPS. Panellists mentioned that the SAPS is seriously
understaffed and underpaid for the work it has to do.
The police officers who consulted
with me have their own views about these issues too. A
senior officer related bitterly during an interview: 'We
risk our lives every day, but at the end, the criminal is
the winner, he has more rights. He is out committing his
next crime.'
The effects of the political
transition in South Africa on the members of the police have
been profound. Many factors &endash; socio-political change,
changes in public expectations and public criticism &endash;
have an effect and may result in stress, both direct and
secondary, for members of the police and those close to them
(see Chapter Three, Section 3.5, for a more detailed
discussion). 'We all suffer from stress, man! And so would
you, if you worked under these conditions! We just have to
cope with it and carry on,' one policewoman said.
The most drastic response to stress
is probably suicide, or attempted suicide, as in Bill's
case. Stress can result in responses ranging from suicide
and other violence, disability and rapid staff turnover to
poor interpersonal relationships, apathy, feelings of
hopelessness and a decrease in performance. Reports of
police suicides reflect the level of demoralisation
experienced by policemen and -women. (Some reports on stress
and police suicides are included in Appendix B.) During May
2000, the SABC reported on two policemen who had committed
family murders before turning their service pistols on
themselves. Hence, concern about police suicides is
increasing. On 21 December 2000, the Pretoria News (2000b:3)
reported on the deaths of three police officers in
twenty-four hours. The management of the SAPS expressed
concern about the high suicide rate in the police service.
However, a police spokesperson, Assistant Commissioner Janet
Basson, argued that there are 'adequate support systems for
police offers to maintain their mental health' (Pretoria
News 2000b:3). She said:
Although police officials are
exposed to unique circumstances that involve danger and
daily encounters with death and accidents that can lead to
high stress levels, this cannot be seen as an excuse
[for suicide].
In spite of such disclaimers,
stress and stress-related conditions are a severe and very
real reaction to stressors such as traumatic events, often
resulting in permanent disability. Nel and Burgers (1998:20)
state that stress-related disabilities constitute a high
percentage of reasons for medical retirements from the
police service. So, for example, it cost South African
taxpayers R 250 000 in the first months of 1994 to medically
board nine hundred and four police officers (Nel &
Burgers 1998:20). The costs of medical boarding are also
high in terms of a loss of valuable human resources and
irreplaceable expertise. From more recent research it
appears as if the tendency to leave the service due to
permanent medical disability is increasing. Emsley, Seedat
and Stein (2000:9) presented their findings at the Annual
Psychiatry Conference in Durban during September
2000:
The number of security force
members applying for medical disability has increased
dramatically. A negative perception of the workplace, job
insecurity and a perceived lack of support and empathy were
found to be important factors other than exposure to trauma
that contributed to the experience of 'stress' and the
application for medical disability. A negative attitude
toward the security forces was expressed by 90% of subjects,
and 95% displayed phobic symptoms towards their work.
South African crime statistics (see
Appendix C) reflect the state of society in this country.
Violent crimes, hijackings and housebreaking are on the
increase, despite a new police strategy of targeting
high-density areas with anti-crime operations. Criminals in
turn target the police and police killings are common. The
Pretoria News (2000a:4) reported that one hundred and ninety
two police officers had been killed in different places and
for different reasons in Gauteng between January and October
2000. The SAPS provincial spokesperson, Henriette Bester,
commenting on the killing of two off-duty police officers in
two separate incidents on the same day, said that 'whenever
police officers left their homes, they faced possible death'
(Pretoria News 2000a:4). Ms Bester said that 'police were
targeted because of the perception that they carried
firearms even when off-duty. There were officers who carried
their firearms home because the areas in which they lived
were considered dangerous' (Pretoria News
2000a:4).
I am convinced that a state of
spiritual weariness and exhaustion affects most South
Africans. The South African government has taken legal
action to criminalise racism and discrimination, but racism
and discrimination remain present as a suppressed and
silenced reality. Racism, veiled by political correctness,
feeds on the historical social injustices from which it was
bred. Racial tension contributes to the work stress and
frustrations experienced by policemen and -women. Direct
exposure to traumatic events takes its toll on them as
people, while the process of indirect or secondary
traumatisation produces strong reactions of 'grief, rage,
and outrage, which grow as [they] repeatedly hear
about and see other people's pain and loss' (Saakvitne &
Pearlman 1996:41). The effects are still not fully
understood, but some progress has been made:
Today, we are on the brink of
another transformation in consciousness with respect to
understanding the effects on individuals, families,
communities and societies of witnessing traumatic events. A
witness is created by the exposure of a third party to the
action of a perpetrator on a victim, whether the perpetrator
is a person or a process. The effects of witnessing are
many. When people witness unaware of the full implications
of doing so, it can lead to a distortion of feeling. Some
people experience exaggerated, intense emotionality and
others bland numbness. These feelings, along with the
memories of the witnessed events themselves, produce
intergenerational consequences.
(Weingarten
2000a:1)[Weingarten's emphasis]
The government's policy of
affirmative action contributes further to their complex
relationships with one another. White officers at the
station where I conducted this study alluded to 'reverse
racism'; black officers reported incidents of overt racism,
and there was constant racial tension between the two
groups. Affirmative action has made South African white
males, like their American counterparts, newly aware of
their whiteness and maleness:
And once they recognize these
attributes and the benefits they bestow, [they]
understandably resist giving them [the benefits] up.
That is why when white men lose the preferential treatment
they traditionally enjoyed at the expense of blacks and
women, they call it 'reverse discrimination'.
(Wellman 1999:322)
The above rings true, particularly
for white policemen.
Therefore, 'stress' is no stranger
in the lives of members of the police, whether this stress
accompanies political changes, direct or indirect exposure
to trauma, or the effects of racism and stressful working
conditions. The dominant police subculture prohibits members
of the police from acknowledging emotional pain (Burgers
1994:6). This dominant discourse in the police service
silences officers when they are traumatised or in need of
relief from emotional pain. One young policeman commented
wryly during our conversation: 'It is not really something
you talk about. It's easier to joke about these things.
Anyway, all we talk about all the time are dead bodies and
blood.'
For police officers, feelings of
vulnerability are diametrically opposed to their training
and expectations (Fay 1999:10). Feelings of vulnerability
and fear invite shame, making it difficult for officers to
seek help. The officers and the public expect policemen and
-women to be in control at all times, to show no fear and to
maintain an image of invulnerability.
The image of invulnerability has
been referred to as the 'John Wayne Syndrome' (Skultety
& Singer 1994 in Fay 1999:10), forcing officers to live
up to a self-imposed measure of what a 'real cop' is
supposed to be like. If officers express a need for help,
their colleagues will probably tell them, in good 'John
Wayne' style, to pull themselves together (Reese 1987 in Fay
1999:10). Police officers who attempt to live up to these
expectations are said to have a shorter life expectancy, by
fourteen years, when compared to the average person (Linden
& Klein 1988 in Fay 1999:10).
At the station where this research
was conducted, officers referred to the dominant macho
discourse as 'the tough guy syndrome' (see Chapter Three,
Section 3.6.2). 'The men who adopt the 'tough guy' image
find it more difficult to talk about their problems than we
do,' a senior policewoman said. 'The stigma associated with
stress-related conditions and psychiatric diagnoses keep
them quiet, and prevent them from seeking help.'
Stress spills over into their
family lives. One officer volunteered how hard it was for
him to cope at work. He told me that he did not experience
respect from anybody. He commented on the verbal abuse that
he was subjected to from the public, the way his seniors
shouted orders at him, leaving him feeling 'as highly-strung
as a guitar chord'. It affected his family life in the
following way:
I expected my family to be perfect.
If they made a tiny mistake, I would rage at them. After my
rage was spent, I would feel terrible, humiliated, a
failure. I turned on myself and started drinking more and
more to relieve these feelings of guilt. I felt guilty about
everything. I had no self-image and became very
depressed.
Although they belong to an
excellent medical aid with good benefits and have access to
state-provided social work and psychological services, the
police officers I met tried to cope with their problems on
their own, sometimes with disastrous results. An officer
volunteered: 'Some of the guys just cannot cope with it, and
end up doing a number on themselves. You must remember we
all have service pistols and we are well trained at using
them.' Another warned: 'If they confiscate my service weapon
it won't stop me from blowing my brains out! There are many
ways to do it
' A policeman with many years of service
had the following to say: 'There is no way I would use the
police social services to help me with a problem because I
don't trust them. Everything goes into your file and then
when promotions come around, you are discriminated against.
No way!'
Furthermore, despite the medical
aid benefits that make quality private in- and outpatient
psychiatric care available to members, they often deny their
need for assistance. Denial seems to be kept intact by the
prevailing dominant male (macho) subculture in the service
(see Chapter Three, Section 3.1).
On the other hand, Nel and Burgers
(1998:19) suggest that a diagnosis of posttraumatic stress
disorder appears to have become an acceptable way for
officers to obtain medical disability as a form of
honourable discharge from the SAPS. Firstly, they suggest
that it may have almost become a stereotype for police
officers to display symptoms of posttraumatic stress
disorder, given the extent and regularity of their exposure
to traumatic conditions. Secondly, they suggest that
officers seeking a way out may exaggerate symptoms of
posttraumatic stress disorder, such as internalisation of
aggression and self-violence, in an attempt to avoid dealing
with the recent political changes in the country:
Now that police officials no longer
enjoy the support of the government, organisation or the
community, and accept this definition of 'sick', they tend
to internalise the feelings of aggression previously
expressed during the execution of their duties.
(Nel & Burgers
1998:23)
According to Nel and Burgers
(1998:22), many private medical practitioners, psychiatrists
and psychologists, whether knowingly or not, for financial
gain or otherwise, seem to aid and abet this process of
stereotyping and reinforcing the 'sick role' behaviour many
officials have adopted. This is probably because of the
decontextualised approach many professionals have to issues
of mental health.
The role of media stereotyping
should also not be underestimated, Nel and Burgers (1998:22)
continue, because 'officials previously sketched as "sick"
for their use of excessive force are now deemed "sick"
because of stress and exposure to violence'.
The conditions set out above formed
the rationale for my decision to approach the police service
for the purposes of this study. The historical and political
circumstances, the effects of the transition in the country
on them as people, their high levels of stress and
continuous exposure to direct and indirect trauma posed
serious obstacles to their functioning and respectful police
practice. Their individual and collective stories spoke of
desperation, frustration, anger and disappointment. Tangible
racial tension often filled the air at the station. Work
stress, primary and secondary traumatisation and exhaustion
takes its toll on their lives.
The SAPS Code of Conduct (see
Appendix A) commits police officers to creating a safe and
secure environment for all the people in South Africa, by
acting 'impartially, courteously, honestly, respectfully,
transparently and in an accountable manner;
exercis[ing] the powers conferred upon
[them] in a responsible and controlled manner' (SAPS
sa). Moreover, in terms of the public expectations of
respectful police practice, in the words of Assistant
Commissioner Janet Basson (Pretoria News 2000b:3), 'police
officials are to be seen as the protectors of the community
and should not be feared because of their lack of
self-control or professional conduct'. However, given the
stress that they are under, providing respectful policing of
this nature is difficult, if not impossible.
In my former professional capacity
as advanced psychiatric nurse specialist, I have been privy
to stories of pain, demotivation, alcohol abuse and abuse of
other substances, corruption, guilt, trauma, and
disillusionment told by policemen and -women receiving
inpatient psychiatric care. I have heard many confessions
and guilt-riddled stories. I have spent nights caring for
young police officers plagued by recurring nightmares,
flashbacks, uncontrollable anger and rage. I have also
witnessed able-bodied men and women withdraw from
interpersonal contact in an effort to avoid activities,
people and places that could cause recollections of the
trauma they have witnessed or experienced. Difficulty in
falling asleep, exaggerated startle responses and
hyper-vigilance may necessitate intensive nursing even at
night. These police officers often sit alone in the dark,
smoking, despite pharmacological and psychotherapeutic
interventions.
It seems such a tragedy, such a
waste of potential. Most of policemen and -women who were
treated as inpatients complained of 'work stress'. For
police officers to adapt to the changes which clearly affect
their own lives and work, while having to ensure stability
in terms of law and order within a society that is adapting
to these changes, is no simple task (Nel & Burgers
1998:21).
The gravity of their situation
touched me deeply. Somehow, their stories touched me
personally. My father, long retired, and my brother still in
active service, are both policemen. Because I am currently
practising as a narrative pastoral therapist, I wondered
whether narrative pastoral therapy could make a positive
contribution towards strengthening respectful police
practice in the SAPS. I wondered whether narrative pastoral
therapy could provide police officers with an alternative
story of hope. I was inspired by a paper by Denborough
(1996:91-116) in which he described steps taken towards
developing appropriate and effective ways of working with
young men to reduce violence at schools. I saw many
similarities between the two contexts.
Denborough (1996:108) ran workshops
in which adults treated adolescent boys with respect and
deconstructed the need for violence in a collaborative
process. I believe that the situation South African police
officers face is similar to that of the young men in
Denborough's study in that both the boys and the officers
were expected to perform in a disciplined manner and to meet
societal expectations of various kinds. However, neither the
adolescents nor the police officers were treated with
respect or allowed a voice.
By inviting the adolescents in his
study to develop a voice in constructing and deconstructing
their situation, Denborough's (1996:91-116) group managed to
reduce violent responses. I showed Denborough's
(1996:91-106) research to the station commissioner of one of
the busiest police stations in a large urban area, and
suggested workshops using Denborough's (1996:108) approach.
The counselling and workshops would form part of my
research. I gained permission to conduct workshops and
research, as the station commissioner was of the opinion
that this approach could strengthen respectful practice and
increase the morale of the officers, and could have positive
effects on the community they serve.
1.3 RESEARCH AIMS
The original aims of this study
were to co-discover and challenge the problems of secondary
trauma and racism that stand in the way of the officers' at
a particular SAPS station's preferred, respectful police
practice and to co-author ways in a therapy-as-research
process during which the effects of secondary trauma and
racism on their lived experience could be deconstructed.
The aim of the study was to
co-construct new realities in a collaborative process with
the participants of the study (see Chapter One, Section
1.6.2). The objective was to use narrative pastoral therapy
to deconstruct secondary trauma and racism to revise the
participants' relationships with these problems. As the
study progressed, it became clear that separating the
different types of stress was very difficult during this
process of co-construction. Because the officers themselves
did not make such distinctions, I also do not distinguish
between the different types of stress, except in Chapter
Three.
To deconstruct is not to undo or to
destroy but to gently take apart and expose that which has
been invisible to the naked eye (Myburg 2000:12). To
deconstruct dominant discourses of stress and racism implies
questioning their invisibility and normativeness and to look
for alternative preferred ways of being, ways that are
preferred by the police officers in question.
To reach this objective, the
research was directed by a number of issues. Firstly, this
research studied South African police practice at one police
station in order to understand the meaning of respectful
police practice in the lives of policemen and -women on
their own terms. Secondly, it attempted to co-construct ways
of strengthening respectful police practice with the study
participants.
This study sought to co-construct
answers to questions such as the following, and to use these
questions to deconstruct existing dominant discourses. Thus,
there is no attempt to answer these questions
systematically, or to present the results of asking these
questions. Instead, the questions merely underpin the
not-knowing approach (see Chapter Two, Section 2.2.1)
followed in the deconstruction and co-construction process.
How do policemen and -women
experience respectful police practice in their work context?
What are the discursive barriers that stand in the way of
respectful police practice? What are the words they use to
describe their lived experience of police practice? What
impact does the political, economic or psychosocial aspect
of policing have on respectful police practice? Does the
social context of police practice influence respectful
practice? What effects do 'stress' and racism have on the
lived experience of police officers and respectful police
practice? What effects do political, economic or
psychosocial discourses have on respectful police practice?
How can police officers re-author their life stories to
create possibilities for the strengthening of respectful
police practices?
1.4 RESEARCH METHODOLOGY
I chose to conduct a qualitative
research study, because the aim of the study is not to
quantify objective data, but to co-construct new realities
in a collaborative process with the participants of the
study. Qualitative research is a field of inquiry in its own
right (Denzin & Lincoln 1994:1). Moreover,
Qualitative research operates in a
complex historical field that crosscuts five historical
moments. These five moments simultaneously operate in the
present. We describe them as the traditions (1900-1950), the
modernistic or golden age (1950-1970), blurred genres
(1970-1986), the crisis of representation (1986-1990), and
the postmodern or present moments (1990-present).
The
postmodern moment is characterised by a new sensibility that
doubts all previous paradigms.
(Denzin & Lincoln
1994:2)
1.4.1 Qualitative research:
Selecting a paradigm and epistemology
Qualitative research starts from
the perspective and actions of the subjects studied
(Alvesson & Skoldberg 2000:4). For the purposes of this
study, qualitative research is described as a
multi-perspective approach to social interaction, aimed at
describing, making sense of, interpreting and reconstructing
this interaction in terms of the meanings that the subjects
attach to it (Denzin & Lincoln 1994:2). As the
qualitative paradigm in its broadest sense refers to
research that elicits participant accounts of meanings,
experience and perceptions, it also produces descriptive
data in the participant's own written and spoken words. It
this case it involves identifying the police officers'
beliefs and values, which underlie their behaviour (Shurink
1998:243).
Furthermore, I use the term
'qualitative research' in a postmodern context. In a
postmodern context, knowledge is inherently contextual,
local and pluralistic. There is a shift from an objective
claim of hegemony to a contextual, local perspective,
accurately describing the current cultural (and for a
pastoral therapist, theological) situation. In a post-modern
context no grand narrative or meta-story can claim
dominance. Pluralism is the only alternative to objectivism,
as pluralism does not silence all alternative and dissenting
opinions by force or impose its view to silence
others.
1.4.2 Qualitative research
methods
1.4.2.1 Multiple reflexive
conversations
I used a qualitative research
method of multiple reflexive conversations between the
participants and 'theoretical discourses'. Gergen and Gergen
(1991:89) suggest that the most important feature of this
type of work is the sharing of power between researcher and
subjects in order to construct meaning (Gergen & Gergen
1991:89). Reflexive conversations made it possible for
'subjects' to become participants and the expansion of the
number of interpretations appropriate to a postmodern
epistemology.
Reflexive conversations included me
as an active participant of the research, rather than as an
expert looking in. Reflexive conversations took place
between the officers and myself, between the officers,
between my supervisor and myself, within the therapeutic
letters, between the officers individually and during group
sessions.
I used White and Epston's (White
& Epston 1990:48; White 1991:21-40) method of
externalising problems to initiate reflexive conversations.
'Externalization is a practice supported by the belief that
the problem is something operating or impacting on or
pervading a person's life, something separate and different
from the person' (Freedman & Combs 1996:47). Reflexive
conversations invited the participating officers to change
my interpretations and correct misunderstandings or
misconceptions I might have had about their lived
experience. This enhanced the process of power sharing in
the research, as the conversational process became one of
collaboration and consultation.
1.4.2.2 Qualitative research
interviews
During our conversations, we, the
officers and I, endeavoured to use qualitative research
interview methods to explore new knowledge (Kotzé
& Kotzé 1997:27-50) and to re-discover the police
officers' implicit, local knowledges. A qualitative research
interview provides access to the officers' lived
experience:
The qualitative research interview
is no longer a mere adjunct to the basic scientific methods
of observation and experimentation, but provides through
conversation between persons, privileged access to the
cultural world of intersubjective meaning. In several
respects, the knowledge produced in an interview comes close
to postmodernistic conceptions of knowledge as
conversational, narrative, linguistic, contextual and
inter-relational.
(Kvale 1992:51)
1.4.2.3 Using story as
metaphor
A qualitative framework makes the
use of the story metaphor possible. As I was primarily
interested in knowing the meanings police officers
constructed about themselves, the story metaphor served a
meaning-making function (McKenzie & Monk 1997:85).
Furthermore, I am concerned with
listening to, understanding and facilitating a re-authoring
process rather than interpreting the officers' stories.
Collaborative research and the collaborative re-construction
of the police officers' preferred realities made this
possible. We embarked on a collaborative process in search
of alternative stories of hope that matched the officers'
preferred ideas about respectful police practice.
1.4.2.4 A brief word about
narrative therapy as praxis
The study was designed to ensure
that the participating police officers experienced direct
benefit from their involvement in and with the research
process. This is why I decided on narrative therapy as the
praxis of this study:
Narrative therapy belongs to a new
group of therapies that align themselves with the philosophy
of postmodernism
Narrative work is not seen as a
process of discovering the truth about who people are but as
an exploration of how people construct truths about
themselves and their relationships. In their feelings and
behaviours, people are viewed as performing the meanings
developed in the storying process.
(McKenzie & Monk
1997:85)
Narrative therapy views people
experiencing problems as located in a problem story line:
Positive outcomes are identified
when the counselor is able to take up a co-authoring role
with the client to develop a story line that the client
prefers. The client's preferred story is based on lived
moments that can be performed as a counterplot to the
problem-saturated story.
(McKenzie & Monk
1997:85)
Narrative therapy has as its aim
the co-construction of the participants' preferred
realities, the deconstruction of dominant problem discourses
and the co-discovery of alternative stories of
hope.
1.5 THEORETICAL
UNDERPINNINGS
As a pastoral therapist, I am
influenced by and use a variety of theoretical approaches,
which are discussed fully in Chapter Two. The primary focus
of this study is ways of working in pastoral narrative
therapy, within a postmodern discourse, social construction
discourse and a contextual approach to practical theology.
In addition, feminist discourses and emancipatory action
research informed the study.
I have chosen to use a narrative
approach in this study, as theories are now read as 'tales
of the field' (Van Maanen 1988:517). The narrative approach
was the most appropriate way in which I could participate in
the lived experience of police officers, in a specific
social, economic, cultural and political context. A pastoral
narrative approach was also helpful because it acknowledges
the lived spiritualities of individuals. As a pastoral
narrative therapist I also chose to do emancipatory action
research (see Chapter Two, Section 2.5), and took the
position of researcher-therapist or therapist-researcher
(see Chapter Two, Section 2.6).
In an attempt to attain a clearer
glimpse and develop a better awareness of the complexities
of police experience, and in order to recognise the input I
bring to the study as therapist, I have chosen
therapist-research as the approach that guides this study.
An analogous approach has been used in teacher-research
where teachers make a systematic and intentional inquiry
about their own school and classroom work (Cochrane-Smith
& Lytle 1993:242). This is an unruly though systematic
approach to data collection, analysis and interpretation:
'It is not always neat; it tends not to be linear; it cannot
be summarised easily; its conduct and findings are, at
times, confusing and even contradictory' (Fleischer
1994:87).
I selected this form of inquiry as
this research strategy helps to co-construct reality more
closely than traditional research processes. In this
paradigm, the police officers inform me as much as I inform
them; I regard them as the experts of their lives and lived
experience. According to feminist philosophies, the
researched and the researcher are both acknowledged as
subjects who interact, construct knowledge based on the
context and locality and history that brought them together.
This knowledge cannot be generalised but may be relevant to
other places and times.
Bruner (1993:1) clearly describes
the postmodern researcher as someone who is not an
objective, authoritative, politically neutral observer
standing outside and above the text, but as someone who is
historically positioned and locally situated as an all too
human observer of the human condition. The postmodern
researcher sees meaning as 'radically plural, always open
and there is politics in every account' (Bruner
1993:1).
Feminist and womanist epistemology
creates an awareness of gendered issues and the patriarchal
perpetuation of a system of male domination at the expense
of women. 'However, one of the major aims of [these
epistemologies] is not to feminise the world, but to
make it more human and more hence just. In its more moderate
forms, feminist ideas should not be seen as an anti-men as
much as a pro-people movement' (Keane 1998:121); there are
painful questions concerning the elderly, handicapped
people, people of colour, women, the poor, and many others,
which feminists would like to see addressed. Feminist
ideologies are inclusive of the oppressed and the
marginalised: 'In the South African context feminist studies
are important elements in the emergence of a democratic and
just society since they provide a theoretical framework and
intellectual space for transforming kyriarchal knowledges
and deeply inculcated values of oppression' (Fiorenza
1994:1)
Action research is inherently
political. An emancipatory action research approach ensures
not only that the status quo is criticised, but that the
research will make a contribution to improving society and
making it a more 'just' society. It is therefore not only a
critical tool for examining epistemology and praxis, but
also a practical way of deconstructing oppressive social
discourses and co-discovering alternative stories of hope
with participating officers.
The research questions asked in
this research (see Chapter One, Section 1.3), focusing on
the positive aspect of respectful police practice, were used
in the therapeutic conversations to deconstruct some of the
oppressive discourses that stand in the way of respectful
police practice. Such oppressive discourses have led to
widespread abusive practices, necessitating the creation of
the Independent Complaints Directorate (ICD) to deal with
the painful reality of current police practice (Melville
sa).
1.6 THE CONTEXT OF THE
STUDY
1.6.1 The police station
Set in the midst of a busy,
high-density urban area, the police station where this study
was conducted is surrounded by businesses and overpopulated
residential apartment blocks. Traditionally a predominantly
'white' suburb, its demographics have changed to that of a
so-called 'grey' area since the abolition of the Group Areas
Act. The area has always had a high crime rate.
At the start of the study, I
discovered that the police station was poorly staffed, had
inadequate crime-prevention resources, insufficient vehicles
and communication systems. The officers described their
physical working environment as a 'pig sty'. The client
services area was dirty and untidy. There were not enough
chairs for the officers to sit on during working hours, and
the available chairs had either no backs or no seats. The
interior walls were in need of a fresh coat of paint. A lack
of funds and the possibility that the station might move to
another location prohibited officers from making any
physical changes to their immediate work environment. There
was a high rate of absenteeism and stress. One officer had
recently committed suicide.
1.6.2 The participants
1.6.2.1 Meeting the
members
I had gained some knowledge of the
effects of stress and racism have on police officers from my
experience as a psychiatric nurse, but I knew very little of
the lived reality of day-to-day policing. I met a white
shift commander from this police station who had a special
interest in domestic violence and women's issues early in
2000. She expressed the need for a pastoral therapist on her
shift, to meet the needs of the victims and perpetrators of
domestic violence. I agreed to assist her and her shift
members with crisis counselling as a non-governmental
official and made my services unconditionally available to
them. We all benefited from this arrangement, as I provided
a much-needed service while the officer and I got to know
one another on a functional level. I worked with them on day
and night shifts, went out on patrols and attended crisis
calls in the middle of the night. They frequently called me
out to the police station to counsel complainants, to
intervene in crisis situations and to debrief some of the
officers who were exposed to trauma. It was clear that their
need for counselling was not purely limited to the provision
of a service to the community, but that the officers needed
somebody to talk with about their problems. Although this
went beyond my brief as a researcher, my involvement as a
therapist soon extended to groups other than domestic
violence victims or perpetrators. (The therapy given to
individuals who were not officers at the SAPS station on
which the study focuses is not discussed, but is mentioned
here as part of the essential process that made the study
itself possible.) During any one shift I would counsel a
variety of people, for example, a runaway teenager; a man
suffering from psychosis who was 'making a public nuisance
of himself'; a suicidal woman; a weepy, inebriated young man
who had been rejected by his lover; a suicide victim's next
of kin and the wife of a policeman from another area who had
been violently physically assaulted by her husband. That is
all in a day's work for police officers, excluding the calls
to intervene in crimes such as house breaking, thefts and
armed robberies in progress, and it was important that I
lived and experienced some of what the officers I was
working with have to contend with.
I met the station commissioner and
the client services manager as well as the rest of the
management team from 'first floor'. They were very grateful
that I was prepared to shoulder some of the counselling
responsibilities for the complainants and the officers on
one shift. The client services manager recognised the need
for a more extensive therapeutic process, and we discussed
the possibility of a therapy-as-research project at this
police station. The station commissioner gave me permission
to do such a project.
The client services manager was
grateful to have the services of a therapist available to
his shift members, because he frequently had to deal with
stress-related and racially motivated interpersonal conflict
between the officers under his command. He was fully aware
of the effects Stress and Racism were having on his people.
As the study progressed, I realised that concentrating on
the deconstruction of only secondary traumatic trauma would
be a purely academic exercise, and that it would be
unethical to ignore or exclude from this study the stories
of critical and sub-critical incidents, and other direct
causes of incidents of stress, that the officers brought to
the therapy-as-research process. I therefore included the
stories that emerged about stress in any form, whether their
origins could be attributed to primary or secondary stress.
1.6.2.2 The officers
Approximately eighty percent of the
officers on shifts participated in this study in one way or
another, either by participating in individual
conversations, joining in group conversations, completing
the questionnaire on racism (see Chapter Four, Sections
4.9.2 and 4.9.3; and Appendix G) or by referring colleagues
and complainants for crisis care and therapy. Their
identities cannot be made known to the reader, as we entered
into a contract regarding anonymity and confidentiality. The
police culture usually excludes outsiders, therefore I feel
extremely privileged to have been allowed to share in some
of their stories. The scope of this study prohibits me from
telling all the stories we shared, but instead, we
identified recurring themes in all their stories, which I
will share with the reader. The officers concerned granted
me permission to explore a limited number of stories in more
detail.
The group therapy sessions
consisted of various officers, some in supervisory
positions, while other members are in active service at
grassroots level. All the participants were not always
present at the group meetings, as work pressure, stress
leave, vacations and personal crises did not always allow
for their presence. Some of the group meetings had to be
cancelled at the last minute, due to a lack of staff and
time pressures at the station. All the participants who
volunteered to be a part of the group signed consent prior
to their participation in any conversations. Individual
sessions were held with many officers who did not
participate in the group meetings. The client services
manager initially referred one or two officers he was
concerned about for individual therapy. However, once it
became common knowledge that I was talking to officers as a
part of a research process, the officers starting making
their own appointments and recommending that some of their
colleagues come and talk about their problems.
1.6.3 The process
I chose multiple methods in order
to generate information in this research in an attempt to
increase the likelihood of obtaining scientific credibility
and research utility. Such an approach is supported by
feminist researchers:
Feminist descriptions of
multi-method research express the commitment to
thoroughness, the desire to be open-ended, and to take
risks. Multiple methods enable feminist researchers to link
past and present, 'data gathering' and action, and
individual behaviour with social frameworks. In addition,
feminist researchers use multiple methods because of changes
that occur to them and other is a project
Sometimes
multiple methods reflect the desire to be responsive to the
people studied.
(Reinharz 1992:197)
I had hoped to be able to implement
Denborough's (1996:91-108) ideas and hold some workshops
with the officers, but I did not realise at the start of the
study, that time constraints and work pressures at the
police station would prevent us from keeping to the original
plan. The officers wanted me to help them with their
individual problems in the form of crisis intervention and
critical incident debriefing following traumatic incidents.
For these reasons, the main method of data construction
became a collecting of stories and the challenging of
dominant discourses. Firstly some random individual
conversations followed by a series of group conversations
served as the way in which they told their stories. I
invited the officers to tell their stories while I
facilitated the conversations, asking questions to
deconstruct oppressive discourses. This made it possible for
me in writing the narrative, to stay close to the data by
using the participants' own words, despite the fact that I
was present in the text. The group members verified the
context of the text during multiple reflexive conversations.
The practice of reflection invited the participants to amend
and bring corrections to the texts, thereby ensuring that
they regarded the narrative as representative of the
conversations that took place and reflective of their lived
experiences with stress. During reflexive conversations it
emerged that the officers found it irrelevant whether the
effects of the stress they were experiencing were due to
direct or secondary trauma. They were suffering the effects
of multiple incidents of direct and secondary stress, and
concentrating on secondary trauma as the primary subject of
this study quickly became an academic exercise.
I met most of the officers working
at that particular police station during the initial stages
of this study. They invited me to work alongside them,
attending crisis calls and incidences of reported domestic
violence. Gradually their commander started referring
individual officers for individual therapy and/or critical
incident debriefing. Later on, officers were referring
fellow officers for therapeutic conversations. Every officer
who shared a story for the purposes of this study, whether
it was individually or in a group, chose to sign a written
consent form (see Appendix D).
While they were in the process of
introducing me to their world, I worked alongside them
during night and day shifts, attending calls with them as a
non-governmental officer. Some of the individual
conversations and critical incident debriefings that became
a part of this study occurred during this time. The shift
commanders often called me out in the middle of the night
when a complainant required counselling or crisis
intervention, and started referring their colleagues for
assistance with personal and work-related
problems.
The client services manager wanted
more of the officers to benefit from the therapy process. He
requested that we meet with a group of officers on a regular
basis. He personally invited specific officers to become a
part of this group. The group initially consisted of eight
group members. Due to the nature of police work, some of the
group members were unable to attend some of the scheduled
group meetings. The group consisted of the commander, the
captain, two inspectors, two officers from the domestic
violence unit, the field training officer and myself. One
group member left the police service as she had been offered
a position in the private sector shortly after our first
meeting. Some of the group meetings had to be cancelled at
the last minute, due a lack of staff or time pressures at
the station. Annual leave, sick leave and working hours also
interfered with our group process. The eight members who
were invited to participate by their client services manager
agreed to be a part of the group, and signed a consent form
after the first group conversation. All the names used in
this study are fictitious in an attempt to protect the
identities of the police officers, although their stories
are related as closely as possible to the way in which they
were told.
1.6.4 The individual and group
conversations
I listened respectfully to the
officers' stories, asking meaning-making and experience-
generating questions to deconstruct the dominant discourses,
fixed ideas and normative truths that restricted them. The
content and goals of each conversation varied, as we did not
approach our meetings with pre-set agendas.
All the group sessions and most of
the individual conversations were followed up with a therapy
letter, addressed to the participant(s). The letters were
used as a way of expanding the conversation (Epston 1998:95)
beyond the session. I used the letters to reflect and voice
my questions and concerns and to ask more deconstructive
questions.
1.6.5 Critical incident
debriefing
The client services manager became
increasingly concerned about the level of 'stress' the
officers were exposed to. He requested that I engage in a
separate series of individual conversations with traumatised
officers. Early during December 1999, an officer I had had
the opportunity to meet, committed suicide. His death
highlighted the gravity of the situation faced by police
officers.
Immediately following the officer's
suicide, the client services manager asked me to intensify
my therapeutic efforts by engaging in critical incident
debriefing sessions with members who had been exposed to
direct trauma. The critical incident debriefing introduced
another dimension to the collage of police experience:
stories of horror, shock, pain, loss, suffering, fear and
anger joined those of stress and racism. This dimension of
the officers' lived experience verified my ethical
responsibility as therapist-researcher not to concentrate
purely on the effects of secondary traumatic stress, while
the officers were experiencing stress as a direct result of
primary trauma following the of witnessing traumatic events
in the line of duty.
1.7 CHAPTER OUTLINE
Chapter Two introduces the reader
to an outline of the epistemological, theological and
philosophical views of the primary author of this
study.
Chapter Three is an overview of
some of the voices in the literature reflecting on 'stress',
vicarious victimisation and compassion fatigue and the
effect of these problems on the police officers. It also
illustrates the problem of stress as it currently exists in
the SAPS.
Chapter Four holds up the mirror of
hope to a group of policemen and -women who participated in
deconstructing racist and discriminatory
discourses.
Chapter Five offers reflections on
the research process and recommendations for practical
theology and pastoral therapy.
CHAPTER
TWO
PARADIGMS, PRACTICES
AND
NARRATIVE PASTORAL
THERAPY
The system left forever a footprint
on my soul (Perry 1997:29).
2.1 INTRODUCING PARADIGMS AND
PRACTICES
The socio-cultural context within
which South Africans live and work has changed in very
significant ways, demanding a fresh response from
practitioners and researchers, including pastoral
therapists. This obviously requires new theological
reflection, as categories of interpretation are deeply
influenced and informed by the culture in which they are
practised (Brueggemann 1993:1). Changes in the larger social
situation alter the shape of Christian communities and
thereby alter the requirements for and modes of pastoral
practice. Pastoral therapists need to be able to 'respond
pastorally to the signs of the times' (Gerkin
1991:11).
In this chapter, the broader
theoretical context underpinning my research story is
discussed. The theoretical underpinnings for this research
are to be found in postmodern, pastoral therapy, narrative
approaches, feminist and social construction discourses and
emancipatory action research. The discourses and approaches
suggested by theoretical contexts enabled research
participants and me to explore new ways to respond to the
challenges posed by our changing times.
My research story focuses on
co-constructing new realities for both policemen and -women
in a changed and rapidly changing society. Theirs is a
strenuous, dangerous, poorly paid and thankless profession.
My personal and professional stories meet up with the police
narrative, because I grew up with policemen my whole life,
as well as having cared for many police officers in my
capacity as a psychiatric nurse practitioner. As pastoral
therapist, I often counsel traumatised police officers. It
appears as if the government, psychology and psychiatry have
failed to prevent the effects of the trauma members of the
police are exposed to as a result of their work from
destroying their lives. Their experiences of trauma affect
them as individuals, their family and friends, their
colleagues, and the community they serve.
Epistemology is concerned with how
people know what they know (Dill & Kotzé 1997:3).
My epistemology of choice and my personal lived experience
have significant implications for the research methodology
and research results. In this chapter I make an attempt at
declaring my own position and I am mindful that my position
is open to interpretation by the reader.
This chapter starts with a
description of postmodern discourse, so as to create a
context for social construction discourse, which informs a
contextual approach to practical theology and a narrative
approach to pastoral therapy as my approaches of choice. By
using a contextual approach, I try to ensure that the impact
of South African cultures on the process and results of this
study are taken into account.
2.2 THINKING THROUGH
THEORY
2.2.1 Postmodern
discourse
'Whether we have entered the
postmodern age is still a matter of heated conjecture.
Nevertheless, it is hard to deny, or avoid, the influence
that postmodern thought has had on almost every field of
human practice' (Jennings & Graham 1996:165). However
far western society has progressed towards a fully
postmodern society, '
an aesthetic and intellectual
movement called postmodernism has taken root in almost every
academic discipline, transforming scholarly debate and the
very way we think about thinking' (Doherty 1991:38).
The shift from a modern to a
postmodern culture is still in the making, but brings with
it a new understanding of self and the world. Such a shift
from a modern to a postmodern culture offers both challenges
and opportunities to practical theologians, requiring new
theological reflection as categories of interpretation are
deeply influenced and informed by the culture in which they
are practised (Brueggemann 1993:1).
At the core of postmodernism lies
its doubt that any theory, method, discourse or genre has a
universal claim to truth or is a privileged form of
authoritative knowledge (Richardson 1994:516). This implies
that all truth claims are doubted equally, and suspected
equally of masking and serving particular interests in
local, cultural and political struggles (Richardson
1994:517). Postmodernism also does not privilege one
methodology over another.
A postmodern stance emerged from
the modernist tradition of the early twentieth century, and
represents a break with some of the most hallowed principles
of modernism. Postmodernism emphasises diversity,
scepticism, relativism and discourse (Doherty 1991:42),
whereas modernism focused on an aesthetic of purity,
clarity, order and analytical abstraction. Postmodernism
tends towards elaboration, eclecticism, ornamentation and
inclusiveness (Doherty 1991:40). Postmodernism provides new
ways of accepting multiple representations of events.
Postmodern writers are so deeply concerned about language
and its meaning that they are wary of all-encompassing
theories or meta-narratives that make universal truth
claims, and rather look towards contextual and localised
knowledges which are inclusive of diversity and respectful
of the particular historical context and value systems
concerned. The 'little stories' of the postmodern condition,
through language, metaphor and discourse, can provide new
ways of exposing meta-narratives (Jennings & Graham
1996:160). Like Efran, Lukens and Lukens (1988:28), I
believe that to take something out of its context is to
render it meaningless, and when it is put in another
context, it means something completely different. I have
become wary of all-encompassing theories or meta-narratives
that make universal truth claims, and prefer rather to look
towards contextual and localised knowledges which are
inclusive of diversity and respectful of the particular
historical context and value system of the individual(s)
concerned.
Postmodern theorists (Anderson
& Goolishian 1988; Gergen 1985; Gergen & Kaye 1992;
Hoffman 1992) view all knowledge and ideas as evolving
through language and taking shape in the realm of the
'common world' and 'common dance' (Hoffman 1992:116).
Instead of asking, 'What is truth?' one would then ask
'Whose truth?' (Hoffman 1992:150). 'All stories are valid
though not necessarily true', according to Parry
(1991:37-53). People exist in and through language (Anderson
& Goolishian 1988:371). We bring forth reality by
speaking, in language, as the crucible of change.
A postmodern stance challenges the
traditional modernist relationship between therapist and
client, where the therapist is expected to cure or 'fix' the
problem experienced by the client with expert knowledge
(Anderson & Goolishian 1988:371). A postmodern therapist
enters each therapeutic conversation with a 'not-knowing'
approach, genuinely curious to discover the client's own
knowledges. A postmodern therapist respects the client as
the expert of his/her life story, and uses a primary focus
'people's expressions of their experiences of life' (White
2000:9).
Gergen (1992:27) describes the role
of the modern and postmodern researcher
succinctly:
Within the modernist era, the
scientist was largely a polisher of mirrors. It was
essentially his/her task to hold a well-honed mirror to
nature. If others wished to use the results for their
various pursuits that was their concern.
Postmodernism asks the scientist to
join the hurly-burly of cultural life &endash; to become an
active participant in the construction of the culture.
Rather than 'telling it like it
is', the challenge for the postmodern psychologist is to
'tell it as it may become.'
For a generation of South Africans
who have to make things work in a country rich with
diversity and pluralism, but burdened with a legacy of guilt
and shame for privilege on the one hand and liberation from
oppression on the other hand, the practice of perspectivism
seems to be one way in which this generation can perceive,
process and describe the world they live in. 'A perspective
has the power to make sense out of the rawness of
experienced life, even though it cannot be "proven" or
absolutely established' (Brueggemann 1993:10).
Modernism, with its emphasis on
objective, empirical, scientific and universal truth has led
to far-reaching technological and scientific developments
world-wide. However, it failed to deliver the 'good life' or
to keep its promises, as that which seemed to be good has
turned out to be enormously ambiguous in its fruit
(Brueggemann 1993:1). Postmodernism tries to ensure a
culturally safe and sensitive lens through which to gain
knowledge of self and the world, without representing
objective truths that are essentially imperialistic or
instruments of social power.
Knowledge is inherently contextual,
local and pluralistic. I propose that the shift from an
objective claim of hegemony to a contextual, local
perspective accurately describes the current cultural and
theological situation. Postmodernism denies the very
possibility of the notion of truth. No grand narrative or
meta-story can any longer claim dominance. Pluralism is the
only alternative to objectivism, as pluralism does not
silence all alternative and dissenting opinions by force or
impose its view to silence others.
2.2.2 Social construction
discourse
Freedman and Combs (1996:16)
describe the main premise of social construction discourse
as follows:
the beliefs, values,
institutions, customs, labels, laws, divisions of labour and
the like that make up our social realities are constructed
by the members of a culture as they interact with one
another from generation to generation and day to day. That
is, societies construct the 'lenses' through which their
members interpret the world. The realities that each of us
take for granted are the realities that our societies have
surrounded us with since birth. These realities provide the
beliefs, practices, words, and experiences from which we
make up our lives, or,
'constitute our
selves'.
Postmodernism is the cultural and
intellectual background against which social construction
discourse has developed. Social construction discourse
informs my research narrative and my therapeutic
practice.
Social construction discourse
challenges me always to be ever-suspicious of
taken-for-granted assumptions and meta-narratives of how the
world should be. In this way, it invites me to try to
understand what the taken-for-granted-assumptions in the
police service are, as well as the taken-for-granted grand
narratives these officers live by in everyday life.
The ways in which humans understand
the world are historically and culturally constructed,
implying that all ways of knowing have cultural and
historical perspectives. Social construction theory explores
the effects of these assumptions on the lives and experience
of people. Police officers construct knowledge of their
world through interaction with one another in language,
exploring the ways of knowing that are particular to them.
In their working and living contexts, their language as well
as their diverse historical and cultural perspectives of
life, police officers socially construct the meanings of
their lives.
Through human interaction, people
construct the knowledge of the world they live in. Social
interactions of any kind, but more particularly in the form
of language, are practices during which realities are
co-constructed. Truth is not regarded as a product of
objective observation of the world, but as the current
accepted ways of understanding the world, constructed by
human interaction with other humans and with the world they
live in. In a study such as this, it is therefore vital to
respect the ways in which police officers construct their
knowledges of the world they live in, the way in which they
see 'truth' and how their social processes of language
sustain these knowledges. Without taking into consideration
their local, contextual and pluralistic knowledges, this
study would not be able to honour their perspectives of
their world.
There are many social constructions
of the world, each informing and inviting different actions
from people. The social actions that are appropriate to the
understanding of problems change over time, according to
social constructions regarding those problems.
These points of departure are in
stark contrast to my previous learning, experience and ways
of making sense of the world. My previous training as a
psychiatric nurse was based on strict modernistic
parameters, firmly embedded in the medical model of cause,
effect and cure. Postmodern thought opened up new ways for
me of being in my world, and had a similar impact on the
ways in which I now prefer to conduct my
practice.
South Africans are not only
struggling to come to terms with the widespread political,
social and economic changes that have taken place since the
1994 election, but also seem to be in a process of
questioning many of the norms and values that govern
people's ordinary daily lives. I form part of the generation
which has to make things work in this country.
2.3 THE PRACTICAL THEOLOGICAL
DISCOURSE
Rossouw (1993:895) suggests that
the broader notion of rationality proposed by postmodern
culture (as opposed to that espoused by modernism), its
broader anthropology, its emphasis on the involvement of
both expertise and experience in decision-making and,
finally, the reduction of the world to a global village, are
important dimensions that have an impact on
theology.
Heitink (1999:174) refers to a
political-critical current of theology. This theological
current defines its position from a political-critical
perspective, which engages with 'those whom the gospel
addresses emphatically: the poor and the persecuted'
(Heitink 1999:175).
Practising practical theology in
the South African context is a challenge. I am of the
opinion that representatives of all religious denominations
should enter into a critical conversation about theological
praxis. The South African context is rapidly changing and
therefore it is necessary for practical theology to keep
abreast of these changes if it wishes to remain relevant to
the people it serves. I wondered how pastoral narrative
therapy would contribute to sustaining, healing and
challenging the officers from this police
station.
Practical theology studies people's
religious actions (Heyns & Pieterse 1990:10), but also
studies society in terms of its specific religious,
spiritual and value commitments. Therefore, practical
theology relates to the religious praxis of church and
society. 'It develops practical theological theories that
function in practice, evaluates these theories and, if
necessary, evolves new theories for praxis' (Heyns &
Pieterse 1990:10). Practical theology further associates
itself with the application of biblical texts to modern
society. However, this is a confessional approach. My
preferred theological stance is a contextual approach, which
considers society's political, economic, developmental,
ecological and medical problems as its main focus. I
conducted therapy-as-research in this urban SAPS station
from a contextual theological position, as reflected by the
aims of the study. I also considered this study as an
initiative towards prophetic, transforming pastoral
action:
The moment for prophetic ministry
response arises at the time of the recognition that human
suffering and conflict have appeared.
Once heard, the
cry of pain begins to transform the consciousness of the
imaginative prophetic pastor.
(Gerkin 1991:75-76)
Social and religious actions are
inherently political. The contextual approach creates space
for social constructionist epistemological views. The
incorporation of social constructionist discourse as
epistemological background to this study made it possible to
consider the broad context sufficiently to prevent serious
reductionism and an attenuation of possibilities. It made
possible the co-construction of communal knowledges, thereby
empowering the police officers involved in a process of
discovery of solutions to their problems.
This located my pastorate within a
social constructionist paradigm. Hence, the police officers
and I joined our efforts as co-constructors and
collaborators of a shared reality. I became a co-participant
of their narrative; the police officers became co-authors of
this research story.
2.3.1 Pastoral care
I agree with Chittister (1999:8-9),
who claims that religion is perhaps the slipperiest, the
most diffuse, and the least defined of all
endeavours:
Commerce operates out of a profit
motive, science out of wonder, the arts out of emotional
expression, government out of a need for order, education
out of the will to grow, voluntary organisations out of
social responsibility, international organisations out of a
need for global collaboration. But religion? All we really
know of religion is that it functions on behalf of the will
of God as it is determined by those who are not God. When
that growth is understood to be the growth of all humankind,
there is nothing more sublime. When that will is defined as
the advantage of one part of humankind over another, there
is little more disillusioning.
(Chittister 1999:8-9)
My own perspective is indebted to
the Judeo-Christian tradition. The present postmodern moment
challenges me as a pastoral therapist to adopt a new
caregiver role. From a postmodern, narrative and feminist
point of view, I am involved in a collaborative process with
the client, in the case of this study, with police officers,
to constitute the truth as experienced by them within their
context and lived experience. This challenges me as a
pastoral therapist to privilege the client's expertise and
local knowledges above my own. This inclusive epistemology,
with its dedication to the recognition of pluralism and
diversity, invites me to view knowledge and truth as social
constructions, constituted by the client who is seeking
help. It has also encouraged me to respect and honour the
different ways in which people interpret the meanings they
attribute to their lives.
The pluralism that has come upon
Western culture invites a pluralism of values and, perhaps
more significantly, a pluralism of languages for
interpretation of what human life in the world is about.
This means that the Christian language for interpreting the
meaning of things, evaluating human actions and attitudes,
and formulating human purposes is now only one language
among many and no longer can claim consensual
legitimisation. Furthermore, pluralism has now so penetrated
every nook and cranny of Western social life that given
individuals in the course of normal activities on a given
day may be required to move from one social context
to
another.
(Gerkin 1986:14)
Religion has played and still plays
a key role in the oppression and liberation of marginalised
groups in South Africa. It is an integral part of the South
African story. Understanding the implications of religion
for the continuing political exploitation of marginalised
groups (such as women, people of colour, the poor and the
homeless, and ethnic groups, amongst others), as well as its
active participation in social movements or change, is
imperative in any study set in the South African context,
because it is essential to oppose the notion that 'slavery,
[as] white people theologised, was God's will'
(Chittister 1991:1):
The problem for contemporary
religion is that all of this theologising, fashioned on the
basis of colour alone, took place
as a condition of
political life in our times &endash; in 1948 &endash; just
as the Western world was celebrating its liberation of
Europe form Nazi oppression. It happened while, as equally
religious people, the rest of the world stood by and
watched.
Just as great an irony is that the
very people who were enslaved, denigrated and diminished
here because of the colour of their skin say that it is
religion that sustained them.
On 16 and 17 November 1997,
representatives of the South African faith communities
gathered in East London before the Truth and Reconciliation
Commission to confess their complicity in, and to ask the
nation's forgiveness for their contribution to the
perpetuation of apartheid's atrocities (Meiring 1999).
Religious dogma had played a key role in legitimising the
oppression of marginalised groups in South Africa.
Ironically, religious beliefs and spirituality sustained
many of the oppressed and played a role in their liberation.
Religion sustained the oppressed at the same time it was
used to provide biblical legitimacy to the actions of the
oppressors.
The narratives around religious
beliefs appeared to form part of the problem-saturated story
in South Africa, as it contributed to the oppression and
marginalisation of millions of people for many years. On the
other hand, it also offered choices for alternative stories
as it sustained the oppressed and fuelled resistance
movements that contributed to the liberation of the
oppressed. For many people, their spiritual self-talk is
significant in shaping their reactions to their experiences
and the meanings they attribute to life events (Andrews
& Kotzé 2000:329). Therapies that recognise the
value of spirituality, religious values and the effects
religious beliefs have on people's stories about themselves,
invite spirituality back into the therapeutic realm.
Furthermore, when people come for therapy, and they are
invited to explore their spiritual stories to 'find
alternative spiritual talk' (Andrews & Kotzé
2000:330), they could discover new spiritual meanings and
understanding of their experiences.
Carlson and Erikson (2000:65) are
of the opinion that the shift towards social constructionist
therapies may be opening the door to include spiritual and
religious issues in therapy. Spirituality has remained an
unexplored part of the therapy process for a long time
(Carlson & Erikson 2000:66), particularly because Freud
proclaimed religion and thus spirituality as part of mental
pathology (Andrews & Kotzé 2000:330). However, a
growing appreciation of the importance of spirituality
emerged when social construction theory entered the
therapeutic domain:
We do not believe that these two
movements in the field at the same time are merely
coincidence. Perhaps the questioning of 'Truth' and the
encouragement of a multiplicity of voices, which social
constructionism encourages, has opened up space for
previously marginalised voices to gain legitimacy in the
field.
(Carlson & Erikson
2000:66)
A Catholic theologian, Greimacher
(in Heitink 1999:174), refers to practical theology as the
'critical theory of a religiously mediated praxis in
society'. A narrative approach to pastoral therapy offers
very helpful ways for therapists to respectfully enter the
spiritual stories of their clients.
2.4 A NARRATIVE APPROACH TO
PASTORAL THERAPY
Narrative [pastoral]
therapy seeks to be a respectful, non-blaming approach to
counselling and community work, which centres people as the
experts in their own lives. It views problems as separate
from people and assumes people have many skills,
competencies, beliefs, values, commitments and abilities
that will assist them to reduce the influence of problems in
their lives.
(Morgan 2000:2)
'People are born into stories;
their social and historical contexts constantly invite them
to tell and remember the stories of certain events and to
leave others un-storied' (Freedman & Combs 1996:42). The
narrative approach embodies the rediscovery of the value of
human participation and the ability people have to become
co-researchers in finding answers for the questions in their
lives. Furthermore, the narrative approach also promotes
helpful solutions in the form of responsible actions
(Jenkins [1990] 1997:58), as a therapeutic strategy
can be devised around the concept of responsibility.
Narrative therapists understand
that lives are lived through stories; therapy has been
described as 're-authoring' or 're-storying' practices. For
narrative therapists, stories consist of events, linked in
sequence, across time, according to a plot (Morgan 2000:5).
Human beings attribute meaning to the stories of their lives
and relationships. This meaning forms the plot of the
narrative. 'The narrative is like a thread that weaves the
events together, forming a story' (Morgan
2000:5).
People's lives are multi-storied,
implying that there are many stories occurring at the same
time. Different stories can also be told about the same
event. Ambiguity and contradiction are present in every
story. There are stories about the past, the present and the
future that belong to individuals, relationships, families,
groups and communities. Events, as they occur, are
interpreted according to the dominant story at the time.
Stories are set against the broader social context by which
people live their lives.
Dominant stories affect people in
the present moment, but also influence how they think about
themselves and behave in future. Dominant stories do not
exist alone, due to the multi-storied nature of human lives.
Alternative stories of success, hope, and achievement always
exist, but are frequently overshadowed by personal,
professional, family and contextual discourses that are
constitutive of human lives.
At a recent Pretoria workshop on
narrative therapy, Weingarten (2000b) offered the following
description of discourse:
Discourse: a historically,
socially, and institutionally specific structure of
statements, terms, categories, and beliefs that are embedded
in relationships, texts, and institutions. The mechanisms of
influence are often invisible. Discourse is a product of
social factors rather than an individual's set of ideas. Any
discourse reflects and constructs a specific worldview.
There are dominant and subjugated discourses. Dominant
discourses appear natural. That which is not part of the
discourse shapes our experience as critically as the
discourse itself.
I became interested in
conversations that seek out the subjugated discourses or
alternative stories by which police officers would prefer to
live their lives. For example, some of the members of the
SAPS would like to live their lives as respected members of
the community, working at a noble task. The dominant story
of oppression and brutality in police practice inherited
from the SAP restrains them in achieving this goal or living
out this life. This 'thin description' (Morgan 2000:12) of
policing supports and sustains remnants of abusive
practices. Discovering the alternative story of how they
would prefer to act and be perceived by themselves, one
another and the community could reduce the problem story's
influence and invite new possibilities and responsibilities
for living.
Narrative therapists are interested
in working with people to bring forth and thicken stories
that do not support or sustain problems. As people begin to
inhabit and live out the alternative stories, the results
are beyond solving problems. Within the new stories, people
live out new self images, new possibilities for
relationships and new futures.
(Freedman & Combs
1996:16)
The attention to the network of
related events, the inter-relatedness of different stories
of a person's life and the patterns woven by seemingly
independent events form part of the narrative approach to
pastoral therapy. It embodies the rediscovery of the value
of human participation through the deconstruction of problem
narratives and the opportunity for people to collaborate as
co-authors in finding answers for the questions in their
lives.
2.4.1 Externalising
problems
Narrative therapists are interested
in ways to discover, acknowledge and deconstruct the
beliefs, ideas and practices of the broader culture a person
lives in, maintaining and strengthening problem discourses.
Externalising the question is one of the ways in which
problems can be separated from people and situated in the
broader cultural context of lived experience.
If you are the problem, or if your
relationship is the problem, then there's not much that you
can do &endash; except maybe to act against yourself.
Externalizing conversations challenge much of this. They
make it possible for persons to experience an identity that
is distinct or separate from the problem.
(White 1995:23)
In narrative approaches to therapy,
the problem becomes the problem; the person is not seen as
the problem. One of the first things that a narrative
therapist is interested in doing is to separate the person's
identity from the problem (Morgan 2000:17). This means that
the therapist and the client speak about the problem in ways
that situate the problem outside the person, based on the
premise that problems are external and not part of the
person's identity. Externalising practices (White &
Epston 1999; White 1991; White 1995; Freedman & Combs
1996; Morgan 2000) liberate therapists and clients to join
against problems, simultaneously discouraging blaming
practices which restrain understanding and healing.
Externalising the problem makes it possible for clients to
revise their relationships with the problems in their lives
and relationships.
Externalising conversations with
police officers positioned the officers differently in
relation to their problems, by construing problems as
external rather than internal. Externalising conversations
helped them to make choices against oppressive discourses
and abusive practices (see Chapters Three and Four). Epston
(1998:51) suggests that the process of externalisation
empowers people to become 'agents' instead of
'patients':
They do not appear dulled or
stupefied as patients often do; rather, they are creative,
enlivened, enthusiastic, and can call upon problem-solving
capabilities that are surprising even to them.
(Epston 1998:51)
The officers accepted and enjoyed
externalising their problems during our group and individual
work because they said it enabled them to name their
problems (see Chapters Three and Four). One officer
described it as a 'liberating experience', and the rest of
the group agreed with him. An externalising discourse
positioned them as protagonists of their own life stories,
encouraging them to speak about their problems, and
accepting responsibility for their past disrespectful
actions. It also enabled them to admit to the ways in which
racism blinded them, thereby breaking the silence that
surrounded sensitive problems (see Chapter Four). Breaking
this silence challenged the discursive barriers that trapped
some of these officers, and liberated them to enter into
changed relationships with the problems they were
facing.
The idea of externalising
internalised discourses provides for a more adequate
description of what this work is all about.
[I]t introduces a different way of speaking about,
and a different way of thinking about, that which is
problematic &endash; and of course, a different way of
acting in relation to that which is problematic.
(White 1995:41)
All problems can be externalised,
their histories can be mapped and their strategies can be
exposed. Procrastination, fear, anger, sexism, racism and
stress are some examples of problems that were externalised
during the therapy-as-research process with police
officers.
2.4.2 Using questions to undo
problem stories
Narrative therapy is interested in
discovering subjugated, alternative stories that do not fit
with the dominant problem-saturated story, and assumes that
a problem can never be completely successful in claiming a
person's life (Morgan 2000:58). In this study, the
exceptions to the problem story are referred to as steps of
resistance, 'unique outcomes' or 'sparkling moments' (Morgan
2000:58). In order to explore steps of resistance further,
to trace the history of the alternative story and to link
steps of resistance in some way with a story outside the
problem story, the therapist asks questions that explore the
landscape of action' :
Once the client and therapist are
engaged in re-discovering the landscape of action, the use
of landscape of identity questions can help clients to
explore the meaning of those steps of resistance to the
problem story's account of their lives. These questions are
woven back and forth in the creation of a new, preferred
'anti-problem' (Morgan 2000:59) story. Working towards the
creation of a richer and more thickly described alternative
story, it is often helpful for the therapist and the client
to review the client's personal skills, commitments and
values through re-membering through the eyes of a third
person. These questions guide the therapy towards the
development of a thicker and richer description of an
alternative story the person can privilege and stay
connected to. Relative influence questions (see Chapter
Five, Section 5.4.1) are helpful in tracing the history of
the problem over time and quantifying its effect in visible
terms.
2.4.3 Sensitivity to the role of
gender
I became aware of gendered issues
and the patriarchal perpetuation of a system of
male-dominated values at the expense of policewomen early on
in the course of my studies. In the police service, men and
women are expected to perform the same duties. Despite the
sub-cultural prescriptions specific to the police service,
policewomen are still constructed in certain roles based on
their physiological make-up, thereby assigning them roles
that are synonymous with feminine identity. Policework
highlights the physiological differences between men and
women. According to Middleton (1992:181), patriarchal
discourse assigns specific gender-based roles to men and
women:
In our culture, girls are raised
from very early age to be aware of, and take care of, the
emotional business of life. Boys come to experience
emotional nurturing as an unquestioned part of life, without
even recognising that it is there.
According to the policewomen
working at this police station, they are generally regarded
as the caregivers of choice when sensitive work has to be
done, for example, counselling a rape victim or sexually
abused child. Policemen choose to perform the more masculine
tasks, for example, the apprehension of criminals, shift
command, and management. As a result of the practices of
power of patriarchal discourse, male and female identities
are constituted by different social and professional
expectations, with differing qualities and characteristics
ascribed to these constructions. These socially constructed
identities can result not only in discriminatory practices,
but also in conflicting expectations:
Men are seen as being above
emotions, and it is considered that they should be above
emotions. Emotions in many ways have been written out of
men's life in much of the philosophy of Western
culture.
(Smith 1996:31)
Yet, policewomen told me that they
are expected to adhere to the prescriptions of male culture.
During reflexive conversations, we deconstructed patriarchal
discourse and the effects it had on the lives of
policewomen, in an attempt to address gender inequalities.
The research study became a way in which we could
participate in a process of making the world 'more human and
hence more just' (Keane 1998:121). During this study we
questioned the status quo in our attempts at improving
police practices, thus following an emancipatory action
research approach (see below).
In addition to the qualitative
methods I used to collect stories and assist policemen and
-women in the re-authoring of their life stories, the study
is upheld by feminist values, using the definition provided
by Millen (1997:11):
To this end, for me, any research
may be considered 'feminist' which incorporates two main
aims; a sensitivity to the role of gender within society and
the differential experiences of males and females, and a
critical approach to the tools of research on society, the
structures of methodology and epistemology within which
'knowledge' is placed within the public domain.
2.5 EMANCIPATORY ACTION
RESEARCH
Emancipatory action research
firstly implies that I am not only part of this research as
researcher and the primary author of this text, but also as
narrative pastoral therapist. My position was one of
'researcher-therapist' or 'therapist-researcher'.
Briefly, my understanding of
emancipatory action research is that it is collaborative,
critical and self-critical inquiry by practitioners
into a major problem or issue or concern in their own
practice. They own the problem and feel responsible and
accountable for solving it.
(Zuber-Skerritt 1996:3)
Emancipatory action research is
therefore not just a critical tool for examining
epistemology and praxis:
In such a view, one treats the
others involved in the setting as co-participants who,
through their particip