Narrative
Therapy Dissertation DECONSTRUCTING
SECONDARY TRAUMA AND RACISM AT A SOUTH AFRICAN POLICE
SERVICE STATION 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. 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 participation in the practices which daily
constitute and reconstitute the setting both as system and
as lifeworld, can work together collaboratively to change
the ways in which they constitute it and thus change both
systems and lifeworld. (Zuber-Skerritt 1996:5) I selected emancipatory action
research as my research approach of choice, because the aim
of the study was to strengthen respectful police practices.
In this study, I adopted the aims of emancipatory action
research as defined by Zuber-Skerritt (1996:5): It aims not only at the technical
and practical improvement and the participants' better
understanding, but also at transformation and change within
the existing boundaries and conditions. Furthermore, it aims
at changing the system itself or those conditions, which
might impede desired improvement. Emancipatory action
research also has as its goal the participant empowerment.
In my practice as narrative
pastoral therapist as well as during the years I worked as a
psychiatric nurse, I became have increasingly aware of the
problems that stand in the way of respectful police
practice. I own this concern not only on a professional
level but also on a personal level, as my father was a
policeman for many years and my brother is currently still
in active service. I feel that, as a pastoral therapist, I
am able to make a contribution to the broader South African
community and the SAPS in particular. In critical reasoning (or
emancipatory) reasoning about social
change, one
adopts a more dialectical stance with respect to the
(mutually constitutive, dialectically related) 'objective'
and 'subjective' aspects of the setting (seeing it socially,
historically and materially constructed); and it is to be
understood in terms of both its 'system' and 'lifeworld'
aspects. In such a view, one treats the others involved in
the setting as co-participants who, through their
participation in the practices which daily constitute and
reconstitute the setting both as system and as lifeworld,
can work together collaboratively to change the ways in
which they constitute it and thus change both systems and
lifeworld. (Zuber-Skerritt 1996:5) 2.6 POSITIONING THE
THERAPIST-RESEARCHER 2.6.1 Psychiatric
nursing I have had previous professional
experience as an advanced psychiatric nurse with
post-graduate training. This training, founded on modernist
medical principles, frequently had to be consciously set
aside in favour of the narrative, not-knowing approach which
privileges the client as the expert. On other occasions, my
knowledge of psychiatric nursing and psychopharmacology
provided me with a broad general knowledge, which I could
use to assist officers by explaining psychiatric treatment
procedures and possible side effects of psychotropic
medications, among other things. Nevertheless, both in terms
of my current epistemology and the stated approach to the
study, my present role as narrative pastoral therapist
demands that I foreground the officers' stories and
facilitate their ownership of the problem and its
solution. 2.6.2 Prophetic narrative pastoral
therapist This study became primarily a way
of embodying my role as prophetic pastoral therapist. I
identified with the way Gerkin (1991:77) describes the Old
Testament prophets as ordinary persons doing ordinary things
who began to see the commonly accepted practices of their
people through the lenses of an alternative
consciousness: They, too, took on the
consciousness of the stranger, no longer at home with the
commonly accepted practices of their people, most commonly
the community leaders. Yet they remained a part of the
Israelite community and spoke their prophetic message as
persons dedicated to the larger vision to which that
community was called. They spoke their prophetic messages to
the community from within that community, yet they spoke as
from the distance of an outside perspective that could see
it flawed as a whole. Their message was a message to call
Israel back to a vision that was fitting, given their
origins. (Gerkin 1991:77) This study provided me with a way
to practise prophetic pastoral care. As a white woman,
dedicated to the larger vision of reconciliation to which we
are called, I can challenge the discourses that were
standing in the way of police officers working towards and
achieving the broader vision for South Africa. The gravity of the police officers'
situation touched me personally. I wondered whether
narrative pastoral therapy could open up possibilities for
police officers to practice in their preferred, respectful
ways. I wondered whether narrative therapy could open space
for police officers to develop and discover alternative
stories of hope that would empower them to resist the
dominant discourses that normally inform their behaviour. I
also wondered whether a pastoral approach which recognises
their spirituality and the context against which they live
their life stories, could contribute to the strengthening of
respectful police practice in the SAPS. 2.7 THERAPY-AS-RESEARCH This study describes the ways in
which the officers and I entered into collaborative,
consultative relationships with one another. These
relationships became the vehicles that made it possible for
us to re-discover possibilities for respectful police
practice. Bruner (1993:1) clearly describes
the postmodern researcher as someone who is historically
positioned and locally situated, 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). In an attempt to develop a clearer
awareness of the complexities of police experience, and in
order to recognise the input I brought to the study as
therapist, I chose 'therapist-research' as the approach to
guide this study. 'Therapist-research' is based on the
example set by teacher-research (Cochrane-Smith & Lytle
1993:242). I followed their example, and set about using
this unruly though systematic approach to listen to the
police officers' stories, to challenge dominant discourses
and to explore their preferred ways of being in a process of
collaborative re-authoring of their problem-saturated
dominant stories: 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 chose this form of inquiry for
precisely these reasons, as life at the police station
resembled a collage of experience: a collage of crisis,
complaints and crime. This research strategy helped to
co-construct their lived reality more closely than
traditional research processes. In this paradigm, the police
officers informed me as much as I informed them. They were
regarded as the experts of their own lives and lived
experience, while I positioned myself as a conversational
artist and a co-author, if needed. In line with 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 it
may be relevant to other places and times as it fits into
the greater collage of life. CO-CONSTRUCTING A COLLAGE OF
PREFERRED REALITIES IN THE FACE OF STRESS Evidence is presented suggesting
that worker exposure to trauma is repetitive, potentially
cumulative, and threatening to personal safety, health, and
well-being. Crisis workers are front-line
responders for whom potential exposure to occupational
trauma is a fact of daily life. (Beaton & Murphy
1995:51) 3.1 COLLAPSING CRISIS: WORKING
TOWARDS A NEW COLLAGE The Concise Oxford Dictionary
(1987:182) describes a collage as an 'abstract form of art,
work of art, in which photographs, pieces of paper,
matchsticks, string,
are placed in juxtaposition and
glued to the surface'. The experiences the research
participants and I shared for the last two years can be
combined into a collage of stories. Creating a surreal work
of art, stress, crisis intervention, organisational
stressors, budgetary restraints, medical disability, horror,
frustration, anger, racism, prejudice and hardship
constitute this collage of police experience. Alternative
stories of hope are almost invisible. Resistance to stress,
prejudice, racism and disrespect are also a part of police
experience, but examples of successful resistance were well
hidden by the extent of the dominant problems that pervade
life at this police station. In this chapter, I privilege
the alternative story: the exceptions to the problem. The
exceptions to the problem stories of stress and racism could
be described as the glue that kept the collage together.
In this chapter, I briefly outline
the history and symptoms of 'stress' as described in
psychiatric literature, focusing on the descriptions of
posttraumatic stress disorder, secondary stress disorder,
also known as compassion fatigue. I am not only intrigued by
narrative ways of thinking, but strive to apply these
principles in my therapeutic practice, in this case to
combat posttraumatic stress disorder and secondary stress
disorder. In this chapter I share some of the narrative
pastoral therapy practices that were used in an attempt to
'transform the pain' (Saakvitne & Pearlman 1996) during
my work with police officers. The purpose of the
therapy-as-research, outlined in Chapter One (see Section
1.3) was to collaborate and re-discover, with the police
officers, aspects of their own knowledges that could
strengthen respectful police practice despite the constant
exposure to direct and indirect trauma. Furthermore, we
aimed to use the psychiatric labels of posttraumatic stress
disorder, secondary stress disorder or compassion fatigue in
ways that might assist them 'in re-discovering a range of
new possibilities for action' (White 1995:117). As has been
stated before, the officers themselves normally did not use
these specific labels, but simply referred to 'stress'.
Thus, these labels were not introduced for any clinical
purpose. I agree with White (1995:118-119) when he
says: Diagnosis provides for an exemption
that is permissible through illness. But this is a sad
reflection on our culture, and I do think we can do a lot to
assist people to find other alternative sites in this
culture in which they can succeed in breaking from dominant
ways of being and thinking, alternative sites that bring
with them other options for how they might lead their lives,
options that do not require exemption through illness.
Nel and Burgers (1998:22) suggested
that it might have become a stereotype for police officers
to display the symptoms of posttraumatic stress disorder,
given the extent and regularity of their daily exposure to
traumatic conditions. Secondly, these researchers suggest
that officers seeking a way out may exaggerate symptoms of
posttraumatic stress disorder in an attempt to avoid dealing
with changes in the police resulting from the recent
political changes in the country. As discussed in Chapter
One (see Section 1.2), researchers have found that police
officers may accept a diagnosis of posttraumatic stress
disorder with resultant medical disability as an honourable
way of leaving the service (Nel & Burgers 1998:22). In
my sessions with police officers, we tried to find
alternatives to avoidance, resignation and opting out by
using these labels. 3.2 BRIEF HISTORICAL OVERVIEW OF
STRESS DISORDERS 'Stress' or stress disorders have
been described as problems people have experienced
throughout the ages. Kaplan and Sadock (1998:615-619)
provide a concise overview of the history of stress-related
disorders. During the civil war in America,
Jacob da Silva described a syndrome known as 'Soldier's
Heart' (Kaplan & Sadock 1998:618). Da Silva is reported
to have delivered a paper 'On irritable heart' in 1871.
During the 1900's, a similar syndrome called 'traumatic
neurosis', was described, the label chosen possibly due to
the psychoanalytic influence of the times. World War I
veterans suffered from 'shell shock', their symptoms thought
to be caused by brain trauma due to exploding shells (Kaplan
& Sadock 1998:618). World War II veterans, survivors of
Nazi concentration camps and the survivors of atomic bomb
explosions in Japan displayed similar symptoms, which were
then known as 'combat neurosis' or 'operational fatigue'.
The psychiatric morbidity of Vietnam War veterans brought
the term 'posttraumatic stress disorder' into use. In 1980
the American Psychiatric Association included the term
posttraumatic stress disorder in its Diagnostic and
Statistical Manual of Mental Disorder (DSM-IV:1994). During
1990-1991 a new syndrome, called 'Persian Gulf Syndrome',
was described. Following the Persian Gulf war, as many as
fifty thousand American soldiers suffered symptoms, and no
government agency has yet acknowledged the possibility of
their exposure to chemical toxins. The symptoms have since
been attributed to psychological stress. 3.3 POSTTRAUMATIC STRESS
DISORDER Kaplan and Sadock (1998:618) define
posttraumatic stress disorder as a set of symptoms that
develop after a person sees, is involved in, or hears of an
extreme traumatic stressor, in accordance with the DSM-IV
(1994). Fear and helplessness, persistent re-living of the
traumatic event and avoidance of reminders of the event
constitute the person's reaction to the trauma. The stress causing posttraumatic
stress disorder is overwhelming and severe enough to affect
most people. War experiences, torture, natural catastrophes,
assault, rape, and serious accidents, for example in cars
and in burning buildings, can result in this disorder.
Sufferers re-experience the traumatic event in their dreams
and thoughts. Sufferers avoid anything that could bring the
event to mind; and they undergo a numbing responsiveness
along with a state of hyperarousal. Other symptoms are
depression, anxiety and cognitive difficulties such as poor
concentration (DSM-IV:1994). Posttraumatic stress disorder
refers to direct exposure or primary
traumatisation. 3.4 SECONDARY STRESS DISORDER:
COMPASSION FATIGUE On the basis of a review of the
traumatology literature, Figley (1999:xiv) points out that
'nearly all of the hundreds of reports focusing on
traumatised people exclude those who were traumatised
indirectly or secondarily and focus on those who were
directly traumatised'. Nevertheless, descriptions of that
which constitutes a traumatic event according to the DSM-IV
(1994) clearly indicate that simply the knowledge of a loved
one's exposure to a traumatic event can be traumatising
(Figley 1999:xiv). Figley (1999:2) describes a
syndrome known as secondary stress disorder or 'compassion
fatigue', which has not previously received much attention
from the psychiatric community. He defines secondary stress
disorder as 'the natural consequent behaviours and emotions
resulting from knowing about a traumatising event
experienced by a significant other &endash; the stress
resulting from helping or wanting to help a traumatised or
suffering person' (Figley 1999:9). The syndrome of symptoms
is nearly identical to that of posttraumatic stress
disorder, except that exposure to the traumatic event is
secondary, not primary. In other words, witnessing a
traumatic experience, or knowing about a traumatic event
experienced by a significant other, is associated with
secondary traumatic stress disorder. By contrast,
posttraumatic stress disorder is associated with the
victim's experience of direct primary trauma. Stress-related
conditions are no strangers to this police station and were
some of the client service manager's greatest concerns when
he agreed for me to become involved with the officers at
this police station. Experience has shown that impaired
service providers have an impact on their colleagues, their
service delivery and the community that they serve (Rudolph
& Stamm 1999:289). Unfortunately, the concept of
secondary stress is very new and the police service does not
have existing administrative structures to support
interventions. It is not possible to prevent officers from
being affected by the trauma that they work with, but the
SAPS can build better environments to support workers
[officers] when they are affected: We can build structures that help
ensure that those who are affected can heal as quickly as
possible and continue to function as productive workers. To
build such structures will take vision and action beyond a
personal understanding of STS [secondary traumatic
stress] and its effects. It requires the administrative
and policy structures to recognise the costs of caring, the
challenges of providing care, and the support necessary to
counteract those costs. (Rudolph & Stamm
1999:289) If one relates the descriptions of
primary and secondary traumatic disorders to police work, it
becomes clear that police officers are prone to direct and
indirect traumatisation. By virtue of their occupation, they
are exposed to direct trauma on a daily basis. Police
officers work with victims and perpetrators of crimes.
Primary and secondary stresses are occupational hazards for
police officers. They are exposed to the clients' graphic
accounts of suffering and abuse. They witness the realities
of human cruelty, violence and abuse. Furthermore, they are
responsible for the maintenance of law and order. It is
their job to prevent people from harming one another. Simply
put, we open our hearts to hear someone's story of
devastation or betrayal, our cherished beliefs are
challenged and we are changed (Saakvitne & Pearlman
1996:25). It is an inescapable effect of the work police
officers do. As has been mentioned before,
police officers do not refer to any of the above concepts by
medical terms, or differentiate between posttraumatic stress
disorder and secondary stress disorders, but colloquially
speak of 'stress'. Bill's story in Chapter One (see Section
1.1) represents the problem story of stress countless
officers tell and relate to. The policemen who consulted me
are convinced that they are not supposed to be affected by
the horror they witness. They acknowledge that a macho
police subculture prohibits them from honestly expressing
their experiences of horror and trauma. It induces them to
try to come to terms with direct and indirect trauma by
denying their feelings of vulnerability, and using cynicism
and twisted humour to overcome feelings of shock and fear.
Denying their true feelings can have disastrous results, as
is suggested by the fact that many South African police
officers are admitted to psychiatric clinics for treatment
while others resort to suicide (see Appendix B and Chapter
One, Section 1.2). Police officers are called out to
remedy the scenes of crisis, chaos and confusion in their
community. They operate daily in the wake of traumatic
events, exposed to the detrimental effects of primary and
secondary traumatic stress. They are in constant contact
with society's criminal elements, disruption of their sense
of trust in humanity and the environment:
both as a direct result of
vicarious traumatisation and in defense against it, it is
all too easy to give in to cynicism and
pessimism. (Saakvitne & Pearlman
1996:49) An attitude of 'us' against 'them'
can develop, resulting in the conscious isolation of
officers from people who are not in the police. The officers
I spoke to frequently voiced their sense of distrust of
people who are not part of the SAPS and cynicism in
humankind. Their experience is not uncommon: [Secondary trauma] also
carries a social cost. Unaddressed vicarious traumatisation,
manifest in cynicism and despair, results in a loss to
society of hope and the positive actions it fuels.
(Saakvitne & Pearlman
1996:48) 3.5 CRITICAL INCIDENTS AND
SUB-CRITICAL INCIDENTS Fay (1999:1) suggests that many
police departments in other parts of the world are beginning
to recognise and respond to the critical incidents police
officers can be exposed to. In South Africa there are few
procedures in place to identify and respond to critical or
sub-critical incidents police officers face. In law
enforcement, stressful or traumatic incidents are often
referred to as critical incidents (Fay 1999:5). A critical
incident is any situation faced by an officer that causes
him/her to experience unusually strong emotional or physical
reactions. I discussed the apparent lack of
critical incident debriefing at this specific police station
with a senior officer from police head office. He remarked
bitterly on the discrepancy between the department policies
of police in the United States and South Africa when it
comes to critical incident debriefing: 'If an American
policeman dies in a shootout at a police station, all the
officers working at that station have to attend critical
debriefing sessions. Over here, we say "Gee, sorry to hear
about old Van" and go off to do our next call' (see Chapter
Four, Section 4.4). Critical incidents are not limited
to catastrophic events. Sub-critical events may also cause
distress for police officers. Mitchell and Bray (1997 in Fay
1999:5) define a sub-critical incident as an event that may
not be perceived as traumatic by the majority of officers,
but has an emotional impact on an individual due to the
meaning that person ascribes to that event. The following events have been
described as typical of those that may cause unusual
distress for emergency personnel (Mitchell & Bray 1990
in Fay 1999:5). 3.5.1 Death and/or suicide of a
fellow officer Shortly before we started the
study, one of the black officers committed suicide by
shooting himself with his service pistol. Another detective
died while on duty in a motor vehicle accident. He was on
his way from the airport to collect suspects when he
overturned his car. According to his colleagues he was very
tired and overworked, and therefore unable to concentrate on
the road, resulting in a motor vehicle accident that cost
his life. 3.5.2 Serious injury to a fellow
officer A suspect stabbed one of the junior
officers in the chest during an arrest. Another officer was
in a motor vehicle accident and sustained permanent injury
to her arm. She had been called out to an urgent complaint
when the accident occurred. Yet another of the officers
inadvertently walked into a shop during an armed robbery and
sustained an injury from a gunshot. 3.5.3 Serious multiple-casualty
incidents/accidents Police officers frequently have to
deal with horrific scenes involving serious, multiple
casualty accidents. The officers on duty from this police
station had to attend to the scene of a train accident in
which many people sustained multiple injuries and many
people were killed. 3.5.4 Traumatic deaths involving
children During a debriefing session, one of
the senior officers described a crime scene where a man had
shot himself in front of his small child. Any incidents
involving children, for example, domestic violence and child
abuse, can traumatise the officers involved with the
case. 3.5.5 Events that attract excessive
media interest and public scrutiny The opening of a domestic violence
unit brought government dignitaries and the press to this
police station. Dramatic cases, for example, a woman who
burnt to death, also attracted media interest, placing extra
strain on the officers involved with the investigation. The
officers who were responsible for the investigation of her
death were traumatised by what they saw. Celebrities
detained as suspects in a drug ring also attracted excessive
media coverage. A suspect was killed by a police officer at
the University of South Africa shortly after an incident of
police brutality had been reported in the media. The
officers from this police station found the media coverage
of the shooting at the university unsympathetic and tainted
by the previous reports of police brutality exposed in a
specialised unit. 3.5.6 Events involving victims
known to the officer An officer from a neighbouring
police station committed suicide. Most of the officers who
consulted me knew him personally. When the investigating
officers know victims or perpetrators of domestic violence,
it affects the officers. When a victim or perpetrator
resembles somebody known to the officer, it can also result
in a critical or sub-critical incident. 3.5.7 Exposure to infectious
diseases During one arrest, a suspect bit an
officer on his back. There have been a few occasions when
victims have run into the charge office, bleeding profusely,
exposing all the officers on duty to the risk of HIV and
AIDS. Blood at an accident scene poses a direct AIDS threat
to the officers on the scene. 3.5.8 Litigation, charging
commission or omissions Complaints against police officers
obviously have a negative impact on the individual officer
involved, but place strain on the rest of the team as well.
Examples of incidents leading to such complaints are
wrongful arrest and assault with arrest. Sometimes officers
make mistakes when arresting suspects or do not follow the
correct procedures, resulting in litigation. 3.5.9 Events that have an unusually
powerful impact on an officer Officers who witness accident
scenes are exposed to direct trauma. One of the officers
told me about an accident during which the victim was
decapitated, and he could not find the head. The victim's
head was later discovered under the car seat. 3.5.10 Other stressors Organisational stressors also fall
into this category, for example, the effects of affirmative
action policies and other transformational events. Last
year, not one of the white captains received promotions,
resulting in extreme anger and negativity in the ranks.
Organisational blunders, inspections from head office and a
lack of understanding of officers' struggles at grass roots
level also result in feelings of despair, anger and
negativity. Allegations of racism, racial
prejudice and racial hatred fuel emotions of both sides of
the racial divide, with negative effects for black and white
officers. 3.5.11 Debriefing How an officer reacts to these
events, the meanings the officer attributes to his/her
performance, and the circumstances surrounding the incident,
can cause a psychological crisis (Fay 1999:5). It is
important to remember that a critical incident should not be
defined in terms of the event but rather in terms of the
impact it has on the individual (Bohl 1995 in Fay 1999:5). A
sub-critical incident can still have an impact on an
officer's performance and functioning. In a critical or a
sub-critical incident, how the officer responds in one
moment might serve to define the entire event (Federal
Bureau of Investigation Bulletin 1996 in Fay 1999:5). The
meaning the officer attributes to a particular critical or
sub-critical event is socially constructed according to the
belief the officer has about the 'correct' way to respond.
It is the meaning the officer attributes to the event that
determines his/her reaction after the event (White &
Epston 1990:3). The examples noted above illustrate
the kinds of stressors the police officers at this station
experienced during the period when the therapy-as-research
was done. Management called on me to debrief many of the
officers who were involved in critical and sub-critical
incidents. The debriefing took place in individual and group
conversations. Fay's (1999:114-118) narrative questionnaire
designed for the debriefing of police officers guided me in
this practice (see Appendix E). In brief, Fay's
questionnaire invites the officer/s to tell the story of the
critical/sub-critical incident from beginning to end, to
establish how the event changed his/her belief about
his/herself, and to find alternative possibilities to the
story. The questionnaire ends with the therapist asking the
officer what advice he/she might give new officers to help
them though similar incidents. Over and above the extra-ordinary
stressors related above, the officers consulted me with
their personal stories and professional struggles. I have
selected three officers' stories to illustrate the ways in
which we deconstructed dominant stories of stress, in a
collaborative, co-authoring process. In this process,
stress, and other problems were externalised and personified
. 3.6 THREE PERSONAL STORIES
It was quite a challenge to expose
Stress's tricks, lies and strategies in the personal and
professional narratives of these police officers' lives. In
the therapy sessions and therapy letters, we sought ways in
which these men and women had instinctively and purposefully
resisted Stress and its effects on their lives. The scope of
this study unfortunately prohibits me from discussing every
conversation in detail, but I obtained permission from three
of the officers' stories to illustrate the narrative
practices we used to resist Stress during this part of the
study. 3.6.1 Procrastination One of the senior officers
volunteered as the first individual participant because he
wanted to encourage the other officers to participate in the
research and therapy. He is a middle-aged white man, who is
dedicated to 'making this country work'. He is an active
leader in his church and involved in the ministry when he is
off-duty. We had many individual conversations during my
involvement at the police station. He described himself as
'a deeply devoted Christian' and 'a problem solver'. He
voiced his concern regarding the levels of stress the
officers on shifts were experiencing, admitting that he was
not exempt from the effects of Stress either. When we explored the effects of
Stress in his life, he discovered that procrastination
caused him the most stress. During our conversations, we
agreed to externalise Procrastination as our common enemy,
and to join against it in our efforts to seek solutions. He
told me how Procrastination drained his life energies,
exhausting him. He also noted that it had started to exert
its power over the shift members. Dutton and Rubenstein (1995:85)
described some indicators of psychological distress or
dysfunction that could indicate secondary trauma in
caregivers following critical or sub-critical incidents.
They noted that impairment of day-to-day functioning in
social and personal spheres could be survival strategies in
the face of stress. Valent (1995:32) described physical,
psychological and social survival strategies used by care
workers. According to Valent (1995:32) Procrastination can
be described as a form of fleeing, the need to remove
oneself from danger, a survival strategy in the face of
stress. Externalising conversations freed
us both, client and therapist, to join forces against the
problem. Our conversations were characterised by
'invitations to responsibility' (Jenkins
[1990]1997). Our conversations were free from blame
and encouraged responsibility. It became clear to us that
Procrastination often disguises itself, by adopting false
identities to confuse its victims. We employed policing
strategies to discover how Procrastination encouraged this
officer to flee, and identified some powerful exceptions to
this problem story. We also recognised that some of the
junior officers were struggling with the same problem. This
officer's local police knowledges were very useful in
'apprehending' the problem. In an attempt to expose the tricks
and strategies employed by Procrastination, we explored the
ways in which a police officer would investigate, gather
evidence to support the case against the problem, and
apprehend and incarcerate a crime suspect. We decided to use
a similar strategy to expose Procrastination. Here follows
an extract from a letter I wrote as a summary and extension
of our conversation: I enjoyed exposing Procrastination
and the effect it has had on your life, but I enjoyed more
than anything the tutorial into policing tactics against its
destructive works. Would you say that the fact that we
captured its true identity by naming it helped to define it
more? Procrastination tried to convince
this officer that he could not excel at his job, because he
saw himself as 'a tree person, not a leaf person'. By this
he meant that he preferred to look at things globally,
without paying much attention to detail. His work demanded
that he pay attention to detail. When we started exploring his
existing defence against this problem, we discovered that he
was a devoted Christian, who has always believed in equality
before the law and who is loved and respected by all the
officers working under his command. I wondered whether he
could use his devotion to Christ as a way of triumphing over
the evil strategies planned by Procrastination. We explored
some practical ways for him to do this. He decided to follow
the example set by Nehemiah in the Bible, and embark on a
metaphorical process of re-building the walls around the
police station, in order to make it a safer workplace with
respectful and effective police practices. We worked out a
detailed plan, which included group sessions, individual
conversations with other police officers, and critical
incident debriefing to counteract the trauma that officers
had been exposed to. I voiced my concern about
Procrastination's strategies in a therapy letter: Can it be that its strategy was to
get you, the leader, the trend-setter, in order to let the
whole shift go down? If Procrastination had crept into the
shifts, how would you recognise its presence? What would be
the first thing that you would see? Would it be an inability
to complete tasks, or would it be an apathetic attitude, or
would you see something else? What would it tell the
officers to seduce them away from effective and respectful
practices? Following Procrastination's
exposure, this officer made some drastic changes in his
life. Here is a snippet from a therapy letter I wrote to
him: Would you say that the resistance
you've demonstrated against its [Procrastination's]
onslaughts are quite remarkable? Let's face it, if it could,
it would have had you sleeping snugly instead of being at
work at seven, on time, every morning! You talked about how
you have managed to cut out a fair amount of the confusion
it spreads by working out a practical administrative system
for the shifts. Would you agree that this was an effective
counterstrategy to put you back in charge instead of
Procrastination? You spoke about the biblical
character of Nehemiah, and the single-minded way in which he
re-built the walls of Jerusalem. What is it in that story
that speaks to you as a leader, and how could you use
Nehemiah's strategies to counter the problem? After he had read this letter, this
officer devised an administrative system to curtail the
effects of Procrastination on himself and the rest of the
officers under his command. He transferred the station's
field training officer from shift work, and assigned her to
the in-service training of officers during work hours. She
became his eyes and ears as she worked with everybody at the
service centre. Together, they started identifying
stress-related problems at grassroots level on all the
shifts, and referring the officers suffering from
stress-related problems for therapy. This officer alerted
the other officers to visible effects of stress and
immediately referred them for critical incident debriefing
when they had been directly or indirectly exposed to
trauma. This officer continued to consult
with me throughout the study. His input and positive
attitude were the main agents for positive change at this
police station. 3.6.2 Personal Problems, Rejection,
Prejudice and The Tough Guy Subculture Marne* is a young, white woman. She
has been in the service for ten years. At the time we first
met, she was living with a young woman in a gay
relationship. Her partner had recently had a baby. Marne, as
the only breadwinner, provided for her young partner and the
baby. During our conversation, she
discussed the effect Personal Problems were having on her
professional life. Her colleagues accepted her sexual
preference and respected her choice, but Rejection and
Prejudice, in the form of strong, punitive religious
discourses, had ruined her relationship with her parents.
She told me that she had recently broken the news to her
parents that she was a lesbian, after which they forbade her
to come home. She tearfully shared her excruciating
emotional pain with me. She said she found it very difficult
to hide her pain behind a professional façade, and
had become prone to temper outbursts and rages. Her personal
problems affected her professional life as a policewoman,
while the stress of police work in turn affected her
relationships with her partner and the baby. Financial
problems compounded the disaster. I wondered whether the police
subculture prescribed ways in which she was permitted to
handle stress. She became enraged. She voiced her anger at
what she named the 'tough guy police culture'. Marne very
specifically attributed blame to the police subculture. She
said it prescribed all police officers' behaviour and did
not differentiate between men and women. One of its most
important prescriptions dealt with the 'machoness' of
handling stress and it placed prohibitions on emotional
expression. She said that the subculture condoned rage and
anger as acceptable, while it prohibited crying. And all she
felt like doing was crying for her lost family. Together, we
mourned the loss of her family. I asked questions to deconstruct
the effects of Rejection and Prejudice on her life. Marne is
deeply religious. She sees police work as an 'extension of
God's hand' and as a 'calling'. During our discussions, I
challenged some of the restrictive spiritual discourses that
could be contributing to her pain, by asking questions that
deconstruct their hold on her life: Have any unwelcome spiritual ideas
tried to take control of your life? What spiritual ideas
have you created and used to resist this from
happening? How will you life be the same or
different if other ideas become more important or
centralised? Through these questions she
re-discovered her spiritual strength as well as the fact
that she drew on her spirituality when Rejection and
Prejudice tried to convince her to kill herself. We explored
the effects of spirituality on her life, and discovered that
she found strength in Jesus and His crucifixion because she
felt that He did not judge her according to her sexual
preferences, but loved her just as she was. We discovered
that her colleagues' camaraderie of and their good-natured
acceptance of her as a person could be pitted against
Rejection and Prejudice and the totalising language it uses.
The fact that her colleagues regard her as an efficient
officer and a nice person, further weakened the hold
Rejection had managed to get on her life. However, Rejection
had lured her into alcohol abuse and rages, violent
outbursts, and the destruction of her partner's personal
property. In the therapy letter we explored
counter-strategies against the powerlessness Rejection and
Prejudice caused her to feel. We explored ways for her to
look at herself through the eyes of others and to take
responsibility for her actions: If your partner had been
participating in this conversation, which of your qualities
would she appreciate the most? If the baby could talk, how
would he describe your behaviour towards him and his mother?
Do you think he would tell me about your determination to
occupy your own space in the world and your refusal to be an
'actor in someone else's story'? Or do you think he would
tell me about something else that makes him respect you? How
would you like the baby to think about you when he is a
grown man? Which of your qualities would you like him to
copy? We worked out a plan of action she
felt comfortable with to prevent her from having further
violent outbursts. We did this by tracking down Rejection
and Prejudice's strategies. We traced its effects to the
introduction of Personal Problems to the workplace, where it
emphasised Work-Stress and the Tough Guy to ignite her
anger. She decided to stop and think about her actions
before acting on the problem's instructions to act on her
emotions. We also explored her wish to take ownership of her
decision to have a relationship with a woman. She realised
that her parents' restrictive spirituality and conservative
outlook on life prohibited them from accepting her as a
lesbian, and that it would take a long time for them to
accept her preferred sexual identity, if they ever did. She
prepared to accept their reaction as a consequence of her
decision and told me that she wants to take full
responsibility for making that decision as a mature adult
woman. However, we re-membered (White 1997:22; Morgan
2000:80) good childhood memories, and she re-discovered many
family memories that she could hold dear, despite the
devastating effects of Rejection and Prejudice on her
parents' relationship with her. Unfortunately, her relationship
with her partner ended a few months later, leaving her
alone, without the partner or the baby. Depression took
over, and she spent a protracted time in a psychiatric
in-patient facility. She has since been discharged, and is
back at work. During the individual sessions with Marne, I
put aside my role as a psychiatric nurse in the interests of
the not-knowing position that narrative pastoral therapy
postulates. Marne frequently attempted to invite me into the
role of the expert, by asking my advice on specific
problems, challenging my stance of not-knowing. I found
myself repeatedly reminding her about her own expertise and
knowledge of her preferred ways of being in the world (see
Chapter Five, Section 5.4.2). 3.6.3 Alcohol Abuse, Depression and
Loneliness Caren*, a young woman in her late
twenties, resisted the macho police subculture by retaining
her softness and caring qualities despite the dominant forms
of masculinity that characterise police behaviour. She
speaks softly and kindly to people. She is caring and
gentle, her most endearing qualities. During our first
conversation, she confessed that Work Stress had tricked her
into Alcohol Abuse and Depression. Caren said she needed to feel that
she belonged somewhere. She described a childhood of
molestation, abuse and violence. She has no contact with her
biological family. She said the police officers at their
station were her only family. The police way of coping with
Work Stress and Trauma, she said, has always been to go for
a few drinks. Caren was becoming frightened of the effects
of Alcohol on her life. She said: 'I have to drink everyday,
and when I start, I don't stop until I'm drunk. My mother
was an alcoholic and I don't want to end up like her'.
Furthermore, she said she felt that the only way out would
be to end her life. She described her confusion and
emotional pain as follows: 'I'm not feeling whole, also. I
feel so lonely. Why was my mother never there for me? I'm
angry at the Lord, also. I'm suffering from broken
relationships, and He is silent'. Caren's work as a policewoman
exposed her to violence against women and children. She
described the trauma she had experienced from witnessing
crime scenes involving women and children in her own
words: There is all this pressure on women
today. Look at the domestic violence and rape in this
country. I feel that women don't really cope. I'm not
coping. There is so much violence; I'm sure
I'm traumatised. Hearing women's stories [of abuse and
violence] has a deep effect on me as a woman. I think it
is shocking that men can do things like that to a woman. It
makes me afraid. There is something really wrong with men in
this world. Men don't know their place. It
makes me feel insecure. How will I know the man I marry
won't be sick inside? My father beat my mother and when I
attend a scene where there has been domestic violence, I
re-live scenes from my own life. I try and distance myself
to hear their story, but I sometimes don't know who to
believe. It just makes me angry and I wish it would
stop. Caren and I met regularly
throughout the time when this study was done. We gradually
identified Depression and Alcohol Abuse as active members on
Stress's team, and mapped the effects they were having on
her life in our externalising conversations. Caren told me
that speaking about Depression and Alcohol Abuse in an
externalised manner decreased her feelings of guilt and
shame. At the same time, I invited her to take
responsibility for her drinking behaviour. She identified
new ways of self-care, as she felt that self-care would
counter the story of self-destruction and abuse that Alcohol
prescribed for her life. Alcohol had support from the Police
Subculture, Work Stress and Peer Pressure and often
overwhelmed her determination to stop drinking. It was a constant battle. Sometimes
Depression won the struggle. Financial problems often
overwhelmed her, as she had large debt to repay. At one
stage, Depression's hostile thoughts overpowered her. She
took an overdose of medication, resulting in hospital
admission and a period of in-patient psychiatric care. The
antidepressants her psychiatrist prescribed were
ineffective, necessitating another admission and a changed
pharmacological intervention. Since she was discharged the
second time, she takes prescribed antidepressants daily.
During my conversations with Caren,
White's (1995:117-118) work guided our conversations about
her medication and psychiatric in-patient care. Questions
deconstructing the real effects these medications were
having on her life and relationships empowered her to stay
in control of her medication. The DSM-IV (1994) categorises
depression or a major depressive episode as five to nine
symptoms over a period of two weeks during which the
person's daily functioning has deteriorated. Depression
features in posttraumatic stress disorder and secondary
stress disorder. Shortly before her second admission, she
had been called to a suicide scene where the victim
resembled somebody that she knew personally. Caren's story
matched any of the three diagnoses: a major depressive
episode, posttraumatic stress or secondary stress disorder,
or combination of all three. Caren found the diagnosis of
depression temporarily enabling, as it offered an escape
from the guilt and shame she felt at not being able to
function effectively as a police officer. This 'escape' is
described as follows by White (1995:118): In order for people to break from
these self-accusations and attributions of personal
inadequacy, from the stress that is informed by the
expectations about what it means to be a real person in our
culture, and from the experiences of guilt that we have
discussed, they must step into the site of 'illness'
Illness is a site of culture, one that is structured, one
that brings with it particular modes of life and thought.
I respectfully honoured her
acceptance of her diagnosis of depression. However, I
continuously questioned her about the way in which the
diagnosis of depression helped her to overcome the problems
Work Stress was imposing on her. She reflected on these
questions, explaining how the period in the psychiatric
clinic provided her with much-needed rest. She could forget
about work and the stress that comes with it. She felt that
she had benefited from the admissions. She joined a
narrative therapy group which worked with a reflecting team
after her last discharge from hospital. Caren described the
group's commitment to her strengths as being 'on my side in
my fight against Depression and its allies'. During our conversations, I
attempted to open some space in which Caren could reclaim
personal agency. I asked questions that acknowledged her
deep sense of spirituality and her desire for a new
self-narrative, for example: 'If I was able to ask God which
of your qualities she appreciates, what do you think her
answers would be?' These experience-generating and
meaning-making questions made possible the invitation of
significant others into our conversations; we even welcomed
God as one of her significant others (Andrews &
Kotzé 2000:332). She said that the inclusion of
significant others in therapeutic conversations, helped her
to feel less lonely and isolated. Caren's upbringing was based on
fundamentalist religious beliefs. At a time when she needed
an 'inclusive, understanding spiritual talk' (Andrews &
Kotzé 2000: 333), her mother, led by her punitive and
moralising religious values, taught Caren more about the
wrath of God than about grace, love or mercy. During therapy
she expressed the need to liberate herself from the
accusations which intruded on inner dialogue or self-talk.
The charismatic teachings of the church of which she was a
member, confused her. The church dogma fuelled guilt and
anger at the Lord and her personal pain. She believed that
she had sinned and that God was punishing her.
Deconstructing her restrictive and punitive spirituality
helped Caren to re-connect with the God she has always
loved. Griffith and Griffith (1993:6)
described how spirituality can open up space for new
self-narratives and have a healing effect on people. Her
liberated spiritual talk, free of fundamentalism became a
source of personal agency for Caren. She desperately wanted to be loved
by somebody special. Previous relationships with men were
abusive and painful. Her daily exposure to the crimes men
perpetrate against women in their homes traumatised her and
encouraged her to look elsewhere for love. Her
fundamentalist religious background prohibited her from
exploring same-sex relationships. Loneliness, feeling
'not-good-enough' and sadness permeated her life
story. Caren's colleagues at the police
station are both heterosexual and homosexual men and women.
A few weeks ago, she decided to attend a sermon at a local
gay-friendly church. After the service, she met a woman who
became her friend. She told me that the questions that
deconstructed her previous punitive religious learning
helped her to reflect on her preferred ways of being in
relationships and on her spirituality of choice (Andrews
& Kotzé 2000:334-337): Which religious ideas have been
useful to you and on your side? How does your spirituality
privilege specific practices and ideas? How will your life be the same or
different if other ideas become more or less centralised?
Which ideas within your spiritual
talk do you have doubts about? Which ones are you very sure
about? Have any unwelcome spiritual ideas
tried to take control over your life? The spiritual ideas you choose
&endash; what do they say about you and who you are as a
person? What do they say about the values you choose and
stand for? A social constructionist position
does not search for the origins or causes of homosexuality,
rather examining the 'discursive practices, the narrative
forms within which homosexuals and lesbians are produced and
re-produced' (Kitzinger 1995:150). The social
constructionist position does not propose that homosexuality
is something natural or that some people discover their
sexual identity as being either heterosexual or homosexual.
Instead, homosexuality is created by meaningful ways in
which groups try to organise their experience (McFelin
2000:81). Caren's colleagues accepted her
declaration regarding her preferred sexual identity during
one of their morning meetings. Her mother telephoned her for
the first time in years, and when Caren told her that she
has decided to have a gay relationship with a woman, her
mother quietly accepted her choice. Her struggles with Alcohol
continue. She is currently on a medical treatment programme
for physiological dependence. She still takes her
antidepressant medications. She still attends the narrative
therapy group with the reflecting team. She is functioning
well at work. She still regards the police officers at that
station as her family, despite the fact that her mother has
made contact with her: the police officers always accepted
her unconditionally (see Chapter Five, Section
5.4.2). 3.7 A GROUP SESSION Five officers and I met as a group
for the first time early in June 2000. Most of the officers
knew me, as I had become a familiar and active part of life
at the police station since the beginning of November 1999.
Their client services manager became increasingly concerned
about the ways in which the officers were responding to the
levels of stress at work, and asked me to include group
therapy sessions as a part of the study. This group setting
provided me with an opportunity to give the officers
feedback about the problems I had encountered during the
previous months, and to learn from them the meanings they
attributed to the problems I had became aware of. I welcomed
everyone to the group, and explained the reasons for our
meeting. We co-constructed some preferred rules for the
group meetings, for example, how long the sessions would be,
who would be present, and that all the information shared
had to be regarded as confidential. I invited each officer
to share some small personal story with the rest of the
group. This ice-breaker led to bursts of laughter and
disbelief, lots of jokes and teasing, as every one shared a
little secret with the group. Their infectious laughter
helped all of us to relax and it helped us to work in a
collaborative manner, equalising rank, age, race and
gender. I invited the officers to list the
collective strengths of everybody in the room, as a way of
identifying their preferred ways of being in the world.
Everybody actively participated in the compilation of this
list. This exercise created the space for officers from
different ranks, races, ages and genders to hear which of
their personal qualities invited respect and appreciation
from their colleagues. It also helped to equalise the power
differentials in the room, as there were some very senior
officers who were now relating on equal footing with very
junior officers. We started deconstructing the
problem-saturated story of current police practice, as I had
heard it from the officers working at that station during
individual conversations prior to the group meeting. In
preparation of the group meeting, I typed out the 56 most
common problems I had discovered onto small pieces of paper,
and invited every group member to take any eight slips of
paper out of a bag. The officers had an opportunity to
discuss the problems they were holding in their hands, to
agree, or to disagree whether these problems were
influential in constituting problem stories about police
practice or not. The officers decided to divide the problems
into four categories: personal problems, organisational
problems, public problems and supervisory problems. Some
problems fitted into more than one category. These were
jotted down on the lines running between the categories. We
realised that it would be impossible to re-write all the
problem stories in the space allowed for this study, but we
all believed that if we could change a few of the dominant
problems, other areas would gradually change as
well. We designed a strategy that could
make it possible for police officers to re-author (White
1995) problem stories in a way that would introduce
respectful police practice to their police station: we would
meet as a group on a regular basis to discuss and
deconstruct problem discourses (see Chapter Five, Section
4.3). The group members were in positions where they could
effect change, even the junior officers. I summarised every
group session in a letter, which served as an extension of
the conversation as well as a place where I could reflect on
the process and the problems discussed. Every group member
received a letter before the next group session. 3.8 THERAPEUTIC LETTERS AND
RESPONSES The letter below is an example of a
letter sent to the group after one session to summarise and
reflect on the content of our conversation. These letters
served as links between group sessions, which took place two
or three weeks apart at times. 24 May 2000 Dear [participating officers
first names] This letter is an extension of our
conversation last Friday. Much of what we shared led me to
question the ideas we discussed which prevent respectful
police practice. You described how personal,
organisational, supervisory and public restraints impact on
the life of a police officer. I am only just getting to
grips with the particular problems facing policemen and
-women. I would like to bring to the conversations your
determination to find effective ways of strengthening
respectful police practice at [name of station]. I
know you bring your own skills, knowledges and experience to
the conversation. The officers I spoke to before all
of us met as a group individually described the commitment
to protect the community from crime that brought them to the
police. Do I understand correctly that commitment serves as
the driving force to continue the fight against crime? Would
you identify commitment as an officer's personal strength?
If commitment is present, how does one recognise it in the
actions of a police officer? I wondered what it was like for you
to be a part of this group, discussing problems in these
ways. Did you all experience respect, being a part of the
group, or only some members of the group? Did you have to
work hard at it, or did it come naturally? I wondered
whether communicating in respectful ways was something that
happens often at your station. If so, can we identify what
it is that you do to make respect part of your
discussion? During our group discussion, I
noticed respectful ways in which you spoke to one another
despite the fact that our group included officers from
different races, genders, ranks and levels of experience.
Would you call it respect, providing space, or something
else? If somebody from outside our group could have
witnessed the ways you spoke to one another, what would they
have said about the visibility of tolerance and respect in
the group? I experienced tolerance in the way
you addressed controversial and sensitive material. I
noticed this in the way most of you listened to differing
points of view. Sex, age, race and rank did not seem to be a
barrier to respectful talk. Am I right to call it tolerance,
or would you like to call it something else? I sensed some strong feelings
accompanied the sensitive problems under discussion. Did you
sense it too or was it something else? How did you manage to
prevent these strong feelings from stealing your respect for
one another? Did humour help you to deal with difficulties?
I also wondered if there was anyone who would have predicted
that our conversation would be characterised by respect,
tolerance and humour in the face of discussions about
serious problems. During the session, you voiced your
expectations of the groups as actively seeking ways in which
you could play a part in collectively responding to the
problems at this station. Would it be correct to assume that
your presence in the group meant that you do not wish to
remain passive and quiet while specific problems are having
an effect on your work environment? Was your presence a
statement of commitment to solving problems or did it say
something else? I have asked many questions in this
letter. You might find some of them relevant and some not.
If you wish, we could talk about some of them next time.
Otherwise, we could talk about anything else that you
consider important. The letter is deconstructed below
in Table 3.1 (overleaf) to examine excerpts from the
officers' responses to the letter against a variety of
theoretical approaches. Table 3.1: First group session
&endash; Responses and theory EXCERPTS FROM THE OFFICERS'
RESPONSES TO THE LETTER THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK q External influences do not affect
me negatively, despite all the changes that have taken
place. q Negativity is a big problem.
q I think the stress makes people
blind to existing career opportunities. They lose hope.
q I think we did pretty well in the
group. It was nice to talk about the problems and to look
for solutions like that. q We spoke like brothers and
sisters. q I enjoyed the respect I felt from
my seniors in the group. q I felt quite relaxed afterwards.
People use survival strategies to
cope with stress. Some of the strategies are on the side of
the person, and some of the strategies may be used against
them. Occupational and organisational
barriers prevent the recognition and treatment of secondary
traumatic stress reactions and can contribute to burnout
(Beaton & Murphy 1995:53) Low morale, frustration and
feelings of powerlessness are survival strategies to social
problems and trauma. Wilfulness, failure and a sense that
the officer has lost control are unsuccessful responses that
could, if left untreated, lead to 'burn-out' and learned
helplessness (Valent 1995:33). Powerlessness and loss of control
are survival strategies that can result in trauma responses.
Hopelessness can result in depression and despair. The
social response to hopelessness is withdrawal and surrender,
as the person is overwhelmed by the problem (Valent
1995:33). The group members expressed a sense
of being cared for and protected in the group. This response
to stress, characterised by care, empathy and commitment. is
on the side of the person, not the problem. It described as
'rescuing', seen in responsibility, nurturing relationships
and altruism. These may be seen as alternative stories or
stories of hope. If the survival strategy of rescuing
becomes unhelpful to the people, people show resentment,
feel depleted and without resources, and interested only in
the self. Their social responses are burdened, neglectful
and rejection. 3.9 DEVELOPING AN ALTERNATIVE STORY
OF HOPE I witnessed many incidents of
caring, respect and tolerance during my visits to the police
station. I witnessed caring and respect for one another, an
attitude of working-together-to-get-the-job-done, and the
use of humour and light-hearted banter in the face of
extreme difficulty. I overheard these words spoken by a
senior officer to a work-laden, stressed junior
officer: Take it easy, my friend. Go slower,
and don't put so much pressure on yourself. You are doing a
wonderful job. Take it one thing at a time, and pace
yourself. You're doing well. The officers started to trust the
therapy-as-research process and became accustomed to my
presence at the police station. They displayed genuine
concern and caring for one another's well being. They
started referring one another for debriefing and counselling
in a process of mutual care. Their acceptance of the
counselling, as well as their growing trust in the
therapeutic process, resisted the effects of stress and
trauma. Respect, tolerance and understanding created the
possibility for traumatised members to receive assistance
without being labelled weak or incompetent. A
pro-counselling culture started developing amongst the
members, characterised by acceptance of the reality of
stress in their lives. They also discovered that it was
easier for them to face problems as a team. Guided by the
work Fay (1999) recently completed on narrative ways of
critical incident debriefing, I encouraged the officers to
recall the times when they were at their very best as police
officers during one of the group sessions. They all participated
enthusiastically in the conversation, sharing their
individual memories of success with their colleagues.
Success is a counter-strategy to Stress. The officers
started revising their relationships with Stress. Combs and
Freedman (2000:31) documented excellent questions that
facilitated the revision of relationships people have with
problems. I found their suggestions very helpful during this
practice: How did changing your relationship
with the problem of Stress change your identity? Now that you have changed your
relationship with Stress, what is different about your life
and relationships? What difference would it make to
the communities in which you participate if you embody your
revised relationship with stress in your day-to-day
lives? The group members agreed how
physical fitness strengthens experiences of success for
police officers, 'because when I am fit I'm not afraid of
anything. I know my body won't let me down', John* said
enthusiastically, remembering a time when he was in peak
physical condition. They also discovered that taking pride
in their work, and the feeling of achievement motivates them
to look and act professionally and respectfully. I wondered how a police officer
would describe looking and acting professionally and
respectfully? I remarked, drawing from my personal story as
a nurse, that I would never have dared to report for duty
without wearing my uniform. From their talk it became clear
that uniforms, and the way in which professional people wear
their uniforms, relayed a message to the public and to their
colleagues about their efficiency and skills. We considered
whether wearing uniforms relayed securities and anti-stress
messages to the officers and the public. The officers
contracted with one another to wear their prescribed
uniforms with pride from that meeting onwards, and not come
to work in civilian clothes, as had become their custom
lately. They discussed how a culture of apathy had
contributed to a lack of pride and considered looking neat
and professional as visible steps of resistance against
negativity, apathy and work stress. Besides, it was more
practical. One of the officers joked: 'At least wearing a
uniform means that I know what I have to wear in the
morning, and I don't have to worry about my socks matching
my trousers!' The Problems-at-the-station clearly
did not approve of our therapeutic counter-strategies. When
the officers started wearing uniforms, some of them
discovered that their uniforms no longer fitted them
properly. Organisational difficulties blocked their attempts
at professional appearance and respectful practice. The
officers who applied for new uniforms were told that the
state had no stock. Despite organisational difficulties, all
the group members who had made a commitment to a
professional appearance made an effort to report for duty,
smartly dressed, in full uniform. As a way of showing
solidarity of purpose, Caren started referring to the group
as the gang , a name they all liked and accepted. Below
there are some excerpts from the letter I wrote, reflecting
on the last conversation we had. 25 June 2000 Dear Group Herewith my letter to you,
following our last group conversation. On the 22nd of June you identified
certain individual and group characteristics the members of
this group can be proud of. You have witnessed adaptability,
cultural knowledges and diversity training, and tolerance
that stood on the side of respect. You were convinced that the ability
to resolve interpersonal conflict in a respectful manner has
become a common occurrence at your police station. Would it
be possible to use respectful conflict resolution as a way
of resisting the current administrative abuses or
administrative problems regarding the uniform situation?
Could respectful conflict resolution send invitations to
responsibility to your senior command and
colleagues? You wondered how you could create a
blue culture [colour of the uniforms] on shifts,
while acknowledging cultural diversity. Is it possible to be
culturally sensitive, very professional and service delivery
oriented? You identified the extent to which blue culture of
excellence currently exists at [name of station].
You described how members in the group and members on shifts
already reflect the pride they felt in their profession by
wearing their uniforms with pride, generally conducting
themselves with self-respect and speaking to superiors,
colleagues, subordinates and the public in respectful ways.
You agreed to sharpen your professional image as police
officers and to set an example to the other members at the
station by always appearing neat in full uniform as a
visible sign of your commitment to excellence. In response to the questions I had
asked in a previous letter, you shared your experiences of
when you were at your very best as police officers. Did I
understand correctly that you all value physical fitness as
one of the qualities that protect you against stress? I
wondered whether physical fitness played a role in
strengthening mental and emotional health. You all agreed
that when you felt fit, you experienced very little mental
strain: you said it even made you think in a healthier
manner! John* confirmed this by saying that when he is
physically fit; he has no fear, as his body won't let him
down when it comes to the push. During the session you also talked
about your ability to believe in yourselves. You said you
enjoyed having an opportunity to acknowledge your strengths.
You also said that adhering to the discipline of the service
helps you to stand up against stress and to perform under
pressure. Could perseverance, self-pride and self-respect
strengthen you in your task as a police officer? Can these
strengths be counted upon to withstand the pressures of
stress in the service? Do you see these as qualities that
you have taught yourself? If so, how do you use these
qualities in dealing with the stress? Do you talk to one
another about it or do you keep it private? Group sessions and therapy letters
were useful as narrative pastoral practices as these
practices generated honesty and respect that crossed racial,
age and gender barriers between the group
members. 3.10 NARRATIVE PASTORAL
PRACTICES Narrative pastoral practices of
respect that honoured the individuals' and the groups'
expertise and knowledges helped them to develop trust,
increasing their participation in the counselling and group
discussions. My availability as therapist and crisis
counsellor to the officers as well as to members of the
public also helped to strengthen the relationship between
the officers and myself. I maintained an attitude of
curiosity, which guided the questions I asked. Remaining
curious and maintaining a not-knowing position placed the
officers in a position of expertise while helping me to
enter into and gain an understanding of their world.
Therapeutic letters and documents helped us to develop
richer and 'thicker' alternative, preferred narratives of
hope. But Stress and Negativity were
never far behind. Work-related crises and interpersonal
conflicts interfered with planned sessions and meetings
between the participants and myself. The Problems even
attempted to convince some of the most committed group
members not to continue with the sessions. The Problems
presented themselves in many guises. Sometimes, they were
masked as Work Pressure and Time Pressure, at other times
they posed as Lack of Manpower and Crisis Management. They
often succeeded in cancelling or re-scheduling group
sessions. 3.10.1 Recognising the
ruins The frequent cancellation of group
meetings did not prevent us from continuing with the
conversations. We simply continued to speak on a one-to-one
basis, all the while re-authoring problem-saturated stories.
It was easier to take one person out of a work situation for
a short while than to expect the station to manage without
eight members for two hours once a week. During the
individual conversations that followed one group meeting, I
became aware of an increase in the tension the officers were
experiencing as they looked and sounded anxious. The client
services manager arranged for the group to meet as a matter
of urgency. During the emergency meeting, the
group members expressed feelings of extreme demoralisation.
They explained that working at that police station felt like
living in a house without a roof. They said they felt they
as if they were being exposed to the elements with no
protection. They said they felt unsafe and that they
experienced a lack of interest in their daily struggles from
their senior manager. They felt that their most senior
officer did not care about them and that she set a poor
example. They experienced her as disinterested and
uninvolved in their problems. Furthermore, they felt they
had no protection from the organisational hierarchy or
management when the public lodged complaints about their
service delivery. They compared their work experience to the
lived experience of the homeless: vulnerable and exposed
without any protection. They spoke of a total administrative
collapse and the conflictual relationships between the
shifts and the detectives. These problems added so much
stress that it made respectful and professional interactions
difficult. The group members said this annoyed them, as they
had committed themselves to setting an example strengthening
respect at their station. Below, there is an abridged version
of the therapeutic letter that served as a set of
reflections on the conversation and a summary of the
session: Dear Group Neil* wondered whether we could
follow Nehemiah's example of rebuilding the ruins of
Jerusalem. He read the following verses to us: Then I said to them, You see the
bad situation we are in &endash; how Jerusalem lies in
ruins, and its gates are burnt with fire. Come, let us build
up the walls of Jerusalem, that we may no longer be a
disgrace. Then I told them of the hand of my
God, which was upon me for good, and also the words that the
king had spoken to me. And they said, Let us rise up and
build! So they strengthened their hands for the good work
(Nehemiah 1:17,18). We started 're-building the walls'
of [name of station] during that conversation as you
all felt that 'the roof is off' and you were being exposed
to the elements. What do you think it said about you that
everyone from the group enthusiastically contributed to the
metaphorical 're-building of the ruins of (name of
station)''? Your enthusiasm to create a safe and respectful
work environment for all made me wonder whether this
strategy would stimulate a sense of unity and collaboration
amongst the officers. Your strategy for the 'Rebuilding
of the ruins' looked like this: You decided to base a house of
respect on strong foundations: the foundation of law and
order and standing police orders. You wanted its walls to be
strong, reinforced with discipline. You decided to build the
roof with acknowledgement of success, love, discipline and
safe limits. Everybody agreed that the house required a
light. You said that the purpose of the light shining forth
from this house would be to drive away the forces of
darkness and invite those who stood on the outside to enter
into the hospitality the house offers. The door to the house
will regulate the admission of people, ensure
professionalism, courtesy and friendly assistance. Tom*
named it 'The Club', a name you all accepted
enthusiastically, as you felt it meant that all the officers
on shifts could join this club. I invited you to all think about
other structural and metaphorical additions we could add to
the house, and to share it with us at our next meeting.
While you were brainstorming the ways to 'rebuild the
ruins', I wondered what God would appreciate if He were to
do an inspection at [name of station], and you
replied as follows: 'He would appreciate our integrity.
He would notice the caring, good work, and the wonderful
people who work here. He would appreciate the compassion we
have for one another and for the public. He would also
appreciate the growth in spiritual awareness amongst the
officers. He would count us amongst true believers who want
to make a difference in society. He would notice our
dedication to peace and identify officers who consider their
work a calling, not merely a job'. Can you think of members of the
public who have experienced these qualities in your
practice? How do you think they would describe the way you
assisted them with their complaints? Will it say something
about an attitude or a commitment or the way in which you
solved the problems? What do you think they would tell their
friends and family about the level of respect they
experienced at your police station? Apathy, Negativity and Hopelessness
frequently attempted to regain some ground. Stress used
everything in its power to increase the feelings of
negativity and hostility amongst the members and towards the
system. It tried to destroy the members' motivation,
confidence and sense of achievement by presenting them with
yet another apparently unbeatable side of itself. It
frequently blinded the officers to the changes they had
managed to make since we started the study. They soon lost
sight of the fact that the entire client services centre had
been refurbished, painted and redecorated. Work Pressure and
Organisational Difficulties continually sapped their
strength. A way had to be found to re-connect the members to
their successes and achievements in the face of the
problem's onslaught. 3.10.2 Rebuilding the ruins
The client services manager decided
to combine the recognition of the officers' strengths with a
social event, and invited the group members to his home for
lunch. It was very peaceful to meet away from the police
station, in the relaxed atmosphere of his suburban home. We
combined our discussion with a tasty meal of wors (sausage),
bread rolls and salad. We sat under a shady tree in the
garden, exactly eight minutes away from the police station.
It felt as though we had entered another world. His overfed,
aged dog begged for scraps of food from us, we made jokes,
talked shop and generally enjoyed one another's company. I
introduced the reason for our meeting, stating that the
client services manager and I were concerned about them and
that we could see how much they were struggling with
day-to-day problems. I explained that we wanted to explore
ways in which we could overcome the problems they were
currently facing. We encouraged the group members to
share the strengths they respect in themselves, one another
and the group. Manny* mentioned that he had noticed a
positive change in attitude amongst the members, reflecting
more tolerance towards one another. Despite pressure to
perform and combat crime, Sipho* said that his special
talents and skills were recognised and opportunities had
been created for him for further career development. The
problem attempted to convince James* that there had been no
real changes, but Jan* remembered how they had managed to
overcome many organisational difficulties by drawing
strength from the prayer group they had started, and how
they benefited from its spiritual guidance once a week. He
remarked that he experienced peace and unity with the group
during a prayer meeting. Stress would not let go that
easily. It surreptitiously crept into the conversation,
trying to negate their true achievements. In an
authoritative voice, it continuously reminded them of
failures, stressors, difficulties and troubles. The officers
named their biggest problems: Stress and Racism. The white
officers identified Stress while the black officers
unanimously agreed that Racism was the biggest culprit.
Once they had named the problems,
we started exposing the subversive strategies Stress and
Racism used to demoralise them. We discovered that despite
the officers' successes, Stress and Racism used small
incidents to blind them their successes. A small
interpersonal problem would, for example, obtain a racial
flavour, and the incident would be blown up to outrageous
proportions if the officers involved in the conflict were
from different racial groups. The stress from that
interpersonal conflict poisoned the relationships of a whole
shift, dividing the members into two racial camps. It also
diverted everybody's attention away from their successes,
for example, incidents when black and white officers managed
to work together without experiencing interpersonal
conflict. Its onslaught seemed total, erasing from their
collective memory their steps of resistance against Stress
and Racism. Guided by the work of Combs &
Freedman (1999:31), I attempted to expose 'The Problems'
tricks, by asking questions that challenged the officers'
relationships with them. The questions invited the officers
to renegotiate a new identity without Stress and Racism as
unwanted group members: What did you know about yourself
that you didn't know when the problem was obscuring your
view? How does your new relationship with
the problem affect your contributions in the
world? If the problem could speak, what
would it most respect about you as a team? Would it regard
you as a worthy adversary? What difference would it make in
your life and those in your life to keep your new identity
without the problem alive? Externalising the question in this
manner made it possible for us to join as a team against its
onslaughts, and concentrate on the officers' preferred ways
of being. The officers started remembering the successful
steps of resistance they had taken to overcome the effects
of Work Stress and Organisational difficulties on their
lives. Every group member was invited to name the strengths
one of his/her colleagues brought to the group. Their
strengths were a formidable list: faith, tolerance,
commitment, a positive attitude, setting a good example,
professionalism, efficacy, a sense of humour, excellence in
leadership, good interpersonal relationships and the ability
to resolve conflict. During our first session as a
group, the officers had noted the strengths each member
brought to the group. As a part of our strategy to find ways
of re-connecting the group members to their successes and
achievements, we re-viewed the strengths and skills they
proudly admitted to during that first meeting. We also
re-called the positive changes that the shifts and domestic
violence unit had made in recent months. I had prepared, in
collaboration with the client services manager, certificates
of appreciation and acknowledgement (see Appendix F) of the
members' strengths and accomplishments, as determined during
the first group session. These certificates of achievement
formed part of our narrative counter-strategy. The officers
were delighted and proud of the fact that their colleagues
had recognised their strengths and celebrated them in the
group. The certificates and the collective recognition for
their individual and group strengths provided them with some
hope to continue resisting the oppression of Racism and
Stress. 3.11 CONCLUSION In this chapter, some of the
meanings attributed to direct and indirect stress were
deconstructed in an attempt to highlight the neglected
stories of strength, determination and faith that
constituted the small steps of resistance taken by the
police officers who were involved in this study. The officers were resilient to the
onslaughts of Stress and Negativity. Their struggles against
Racism are discussed in Chapter Four. We attempted to
foreground their stories of hope and success by
concentrating on the acknowledgement of the steps of their
resistance that had been subjugated by the problem
narratives. Narrative pastoral therapy-as-research opened
space for the re-discovery of existing strengths and innate
qualities such as a determination to succeed, using
narrative questions, therapeutic documents and letters, and
group and individual reflections. Every officer who consulted me
expressed a religious or spiritual connectedness. They
indicated that religion, faith and spirituality were helpful
in overcoming problems, and that is why I addressed these
issues in therapy. Pastoral therapy can make a valuable
contribution in the workplace. Religion has played and continues
to play a dominant role in South African society:
religion, in the best sense
of the word, had given an enormous security, of comfort, to
so many black people who had had no place in the white man's
scheme of things. (Boraine 2000:268) Chapter Four deals with the problem
of racism and the ways in which the police officers from
this police station stood up to its impact and effect on
their lives. HOLDING UP THE MIRROR OF
HOPE jy kyk in die spieël en
sien hierdie gemeenskap is nie joune
nie: nie dié barbaarse korrupsie van politiek,
die stick-em-up etiek van bendes verorberaars waar snoete
uit die trog gelig word slegs om te
trompetter oor demokrasie en die stryd se
gewaande waardes onder homo sudafricanus se
reënboog, en die strate beswadder met lyke
lê (Breytenbach 1998:128) 4.1 INTRODUCTION In this chapter I attempt to depict
my struggle with Racism while consulting with police
officers. During and after this part of the study I
reflected on my conversations with the police officers with
my supervisor, a white woman anti-apartheid activist whom I
will refer to as Dianne*, and an Indian narrative pastoral
therapist who still suffers the effects of racism in his
life. Dianne's voice is privileged throughout this chapter.
I found her comments, while she was reading the draft copy
of this paper, challenging of my practices of
accountability. I am a white middle-class woman with a
post-graduate education, who has not personally experienced
the negative effects of racism or discrimination in my life.
I am indebted to Dianne for being able and prepared to share
her point of view based on her experiences as an active
member of the struggle for liberation in South Africa. I
agree with one of the participants of Frankenberg's
(1993:182) study who states: I didn't have a choice to be born
what I am. I didn't have a choice that I was brought up in a
middle-class background. But I have a choice about how I use
it now. I have a choice about what stands I make in my life.
I have a choice about how I use this privilege I have
.
It's what you do with it, is the issue. I was privileged by the political
system of my youth by virtue of my race and nationality.
Talking about that period of South African history, Leon
Wessels, former Deputy Minister of Law and Order, testified
as follows at the Truth and Reconciliation Commission
(Boraine 2000:140): I do not believe that the political
defense of 'I did not know' is available to me, because in
many respects I believe I did not want to know. In my own
way I had suspicions of things that had caused discomfort
His words rang true for me. During
my early childhood, I had too 'experienced race privilege as
normalized to the point of invisibility' (Frankenberg
1993:179). However, when I was twelve, I was fortunate to
have had an opportunity to live outside South Africa for a
while, when my father's duties took him abroad. My new
classmates' political awareness and inquiring minds stood in
stark contrast to the naïve and uncritical mindset that
had constituted my thinking up to that point. Their
questions about apartheid ignited my curiosity about racism
in South Africa. I gradually started realising the effects
of apartheid on people of colour in my country. Always an
avid reader, I searched the library for books on the subject
of racial discrimination. To my surprise, I discovered books
written by South African authors like Cry the beloved
Country by Alan Paton (1948) and found that some of these
books had been banned from the South African public. With
the idealism of the young, I took bold small steps of
resistance against racial discrimination. I remember
organising a political protest against racial discrimination
at school shortly before I turned thirteen. I experienced a
warm friendship with a girl who was born in Nigeria. We
shared an African connectedness and exchanged African tales.
I read books I was prohibited from reading by my parents and
the South African censor board. My reading led to many
unanswered questions, but I could not approach my parents,
who were part of the South African diplomatic community
during the seventies, the hey-day of anti-communism. 'The
mass of South Africa's privileged joined in the invented
ideology of a communist onslaught and thus justified to
themselves the extermination of alleged "terrorists" and
"communists", including children' (Asmal, et al 1997:166). I
searched the Bible for answers and found none. I could not
make sense of the biblical foundation apartheid was
supposedly based on. The biblical foundation for apartheid
was one of its most powerful pillars as it allowed many
white Afrikaners to justify racial segregation as God's
will. The Dutch Reformed Church sanctioned apartheid as an
ideology and theologians established biblical
proof: Rather than unseating God,
Verwoerd's National Party for decades successfully co-opted
Him &endash; at least in the eyes of those millions of South
African privileged who, under the urgings of their church
elders, saw in apartheid an earthly form of Calvinist
destiny. Girded by this Biblical certainty, Verwoerd could
assure his political flock that 'I do not have the nagging
doubt of ever wondering whether, perhaps, I am wrong'. This
expressed the hubris of an entire privileged
population. (Asmal et al 1997: 164) However, my adolescent steps of
resistance were as ineffective as the whispers in the
corridors of the department of Law and Order, Leon Wessels
(Boraine 2000:140) refers to. I had to pay dearly for
questioning racial oppression. My parents sent me away to a
boarding school in South Africa while they remained overseas
for eighteen months. Those were dark months for me as a
young woman, silenced, angry and alone in a country I no
longer understood. Of course, when I compare my story to the
stories of the men and women who courageously persisted in
the struggle for liberation, my youthful resistance pales
into insignificance. Still, the personal price I had to pay
silenced me for many years. I kept silent because it was the
easiest and least painful thing to do. [This is the
truth!] This research provided me with an opportunity to
redress my own silence and complicity . I became aware of
the deeply imbedded racial division between policemen and
-women from different races while working at a psychiatric
clinic where officers received treatment for stress-related
problems. 4.2 RACISM IN A PSYCHIATRIC
CLINIC During the early nineties I worked
at a private psychiatric clinic where I nursed patients from
all racial groups. Many of the in-patients were police
officers (see Chapter Three) who had been admitted for
stress-related conditions. White supremacy had masterminded
racial separation to such an extent that very few white
nurses had nursed people of colour before the early
nineties. We had trained and worked in racially segregated
hospitals. During my nursing training and previous nursing
experiences in the 1970's and 1980's all hospital care had
been racially segregated. Even the psychiatric clinic where
I worked had very few patients of colour before Nelson
Mandela's release from prison. It was difficult to relate to and
care for black police officers in a psychiatric setting,
because I had no knowledge of black South African cultures.
I did not understand the emotional needs of these patients
and could not speak or understand any African language. The
only people of colour in the clinic were a few other
patients who were not police officers, and the cleaning
staff. Most of the nursing staff were white women with
post-graduate qualifications in psychiatric nursing. I often
had to ask a member of the cleaning team or another black
patient to interpret or convey messages to black police
officers when language and cultural barriers constrained
communications between us. It often felt as if the black
officers did not trust me, and we lacked the words to
connect with each other. I wonder whether some of them would
agree with Uys's (1994:87) explanation of an African
worldview unfamiliar to people outside the culture
concerned: Illnesses of the African people are
not understood by non-Africans because the philosophy of
causality is based on African culture.
their
interpretation is bound up with African ways of viewing
health and disease. Njguze (1981 in Uys 1994:87)
stressed the importance for western therapists to become
knowledgeable about the beliefs African people may have
about mental health and the causality of mental illness.
Mkhize (1981 in Uys 1994:87) reminds Western practitioners
that black people who express fears that they have been
bewitched are expressing an unshakeable belief that is as
certain as, if not more certain, than the scientific medical
diagnosis of an illness. Western psychiatry does not
comprehend or respect the contributions from rituals, rites,
sacrifices, ancestral influences, traditional healing, and
the ecological influence on mental health that constitutes
African cosmologies Ukafu-kwaBantu may be ascribed by some
to witchcraft, sorcery or ancestral displeasure. The lack of
knowledge white people have about African mental health
often results in a ridiculing of the traditional African
belief system and a denial of its validity in a
twentieth-century clinic. Western psychiatric knowledges
tend to be given preference. Frequently black people are
misunderstood or simply told their traditional beliefs and
customs are outdated. Western knowledges are definitely
regarded as being superior to African knowledges by many
Western psychiatrists. This attitude of superiority is not
limited to the causality of mental illness, but was evident
in the general attitude displayed by the white and black
officers in the clinic. The disdain the white officers
generally harboured for their black colleagues was even
prevalent when a black officer outranked a white officer. It
is very difficult to describe this attitude of superiority.
The difficulty probably lies in the fact that white
superiority had become so deeply ingrained in all of our
lives that it had became normative: In apartheid's heyday, alongside
its main legal pillars, an extensive set of minor, seemingly
secondary, struts sustained it further. These struts were
not confined to 'petty apartheid' &endash; the rules about
segregated toilets and benches and buses; they were more
diffuse patterns of conduct and of expectation, the
innumerable forms of subtle and implicit homage, that
apartheid's privileged paid the system. (Asmal et al 1997:145)[my
emphases] As a step of resistance, black
officers formed an exclusive group to which they were
unwilling to admit any white officers. Members from the
different racial groups used to request permission to
separate bedrooms or sleeping quarters, if at all possible.
If a black patient preferred to mix with white rather than
black in-patients, he/she frequently found him/herself
socially isolated from black colleagues and peers. On the
rare occasions when intimate relationships developed between
a man and a woman from different races, their relationship
was swept under the carpet and the couple was ostracised.
When racial conflict occurred and caused any upset in the
clinic, the medical director addressed the patients who were
involved in the conflict, decided who the instigators were,
and discharged them from in-patient care. The instigators
who were discharged from the clinic were usually black. We
simply ignored, managed, disregarded and swept racism under
the carpet in an attempt to keep the peace and avoid any
conflict. Racial tension was palpable during
the time of the elections in 1994. There were spats of overt
racial conflict, even aggression and physical violence. I
recall an incident when a black man, a civilian in-patient,
attacked a white woman who had been admitted for the
treatment of depression. Some of the white police officers
were sitting in the gardens of the clinic and they witnessed
this attack. The black man was suffering from psychosis and
was under sedation. He picked up a stone, and used it to
attack the woman. That was the catalyst for multiple racial
incidents. The white officers came to the woman's rescue,
physically attacking the black man, and freeing her. The
patient population of the clinic immediately divided into
two camps: a black group and a white group. In subsequent
group and individual debriefing sessions, the white police
officers said that they did not recognise the black man's
disease or psychosis; that he was just another black
criminal who wanted to kill a white woman. For them it was
not only an attack on that specific woman, but
representative of attacks on all white women who had been
attacked by black men in South Africa. Despite our keen awareness of the
potential for racial conflicts, racial issues were not
addressed during group and individual therapy designed by
the nursing staff. The extensive therapy programmes
available for the patients to aid their healing and re-entry
into society after discharge addressed subjects such as
aggression, stress, assertive behaviour and anger, but
racism as an evil (Poling 1996) was never openly addressed.
Racial issues were better left alone for fear of sparking
conflict. Following an incident like the one
noted above, the nursing staff was left with very little
choice. Usually one or two nursing sisters were on duty per
shift over weekends, and when crises like the incident
prescribed above occurred, we had to resort to emergency
measures to calm the patients down as best we could. The
management and prevention of racial incidents was delegated
to the ward sisters. When police officers were admitted for
psychiatric treatment, the nursing staff took care to
allocate white officers to one room, and black officers to
another. It was an unspoken rule. Bed allocation became a
way of preventing racial conflict. It gradually evolved as
the preferred practice as more black patients were admitted
to the clinic. This was ostensibly to accommodate each
group's cultural needs, but in truth it was a way to prevent
racial tension from spilling over into racial aggression.
Bed allocation to segregated bedrooms became a successful
way in which we decreased the officers' exposure to
race-related stressors in addition to the affective
disorders and stress-related problems most of the officers
had been admitted for. To this day, the therapeutic
programmes do not invite any form of dialogue about racism
or racial tension as a way of facilitating better
understanding between the racial groups. Furthermore, most
of the therapeutic group sessions were offered in Afrikaans,
as nurses were mostly Afrikaans-speaking. At that time,
there was no recognition of the need of black officers to
express their emotional pain in English or an African
language. Fear of conflict cast a net of silence over racism
amongst patients and staff alike. 4.3 DISCOVERING RACIALLY INSPIRED
PROBLEMS AT THE POLICE STATION The client services manager of the
Police Station described to me how he had to contend with
racially inspired conflicts between police officers on a
regular basis, and asked me to address the invisible power
and racial discourses that had become part of police
practice. I agree that 'asserting that race and racial
difference are socially constructed' does not mean that one
should 'minimize their social and political reality, but
rather insist that their reality is, precisely, social and
political rather than inherent and static' (Frankenberg
1993:11). However, at the same time I know that 'knowledge
about a situation is a critical tool in dismantling it'
(Frankenberg 1993: 10). The space and time constraints
imposed on the scope of this study limit and preclude an
extensive study of racism and racist practices in the police
service. My attempts at reflecting on the power and colour
discourses polarising interpersonal relationships were
therefore limited to the officers employed at one specific
police station, and the lived experiences they felt free to
share with me for the purposes of this study. In South Africa, 'country of my
skull' (Krog 1998), the pervasiveness of the atrocities and
brutalities of racism have only recently started to be
unmasked during the Truth and Reconciliation Commission.
Initially, when police officers consulted me at this police
station, I saw officers from all races and walks of life
working together apparently peacefully against crime. This
image of peaceful co-existence lured me into a naïve,
false sense of security, blinding me to problems between
them. The multicultural appearance of the shifts lead me to
believe that these officers were able to provide egalitarian
police services to the community at large while engaging in
respectful interpersonal relationships with one another.
[This should have set alarm bells ringing!]
I naïvely hoped and believed
that the new, democratic legislation had resolved the racial
tensions that historically existed in the police service. I
hoped that South Africans had moved beyond the pain of
racial hatred, but in retrospect, I have realised that it
may take more than two or three generations to achieve this.
I witnessed black and white
officers working alongside one another at the client
services counter. I did not really wish to look beyond the
professional interactions and polite exchanges I had
witnessed between the officers on shifts. Instead of setting
off alarm bells in my mind, political correctness between
the officers lulled me into a false sense of complacency.
The racial conflict I later recognised at this police
station reminded me very pertinently of the racial tension
between black and white officers I had experienced when I
worked as a psychiatric nurse at a private psychiatric
clinic, before, during and after the 1994 elections.
4.4 RACISM AT WORK AT THE POLICE
STATION I recognised similarities between
the strategies Racism used at the clinic and at the police
station. In the station fifty officers are allocated to
shifts. Of the fifty officers, sixteen are white. Five of
the sixteen white officers are women. The domestic violence
response unit, which operates separately from the shifts,
but reports to the same management team, is made up of a
black man, a black woman, a white man and a white woman.
Stress and stress-related problems wreaked havoc at this
station (see Chapter Three, Section 3.5). The management had
to create a 'fifth administrative shift' to accommodate
officers who had been treated for chronic stress-related
conditions and could not cope with the stressors of police
work in the community. The administrative shift assists
shift members of all the other shifts with administrative
tasks but do not have direct contact with the public. When I
started the study, the station commissioner was a white
woman. She subsequently became ill with a stress-related
condition and has been on sick leave for a protracted
period. A white man is temporarily filling her
position. A high percentage of the black
members support the African National Congress (ANC) and Pan
Africanist Congress of Azania (PAC), while some were active
in the struggle for the liberation of the population of this
country. Most of the white members support right-wing
political groups, while only one or two support the present
government (ANC). Dianne had some strong comments to make
about this: Now, that's interesting that you
see it as liberation of black people. The ANC has always
stood for the rights of ALL South Africa's people, including
whites, to be liberated from the chains of apartheid
thinking and effects. One of the black members used to be
a tracker for Koevoet before he came to this police station.
Another was the local representative of the police trade
union (POPCRU ). On the other hand, many of the white
members came from Unit 19, now disbanded, formally the Riot
Squad. The officers who came from Unit 19 had been directly
responsible for quelling some of the riots that wracked the
country before the elections in 1994. The white officers who
came to this station from Unit 19 after it had been
disbanded, had been involved in direct contact with rioters
and had fought against them as 'the enemy'. The management,
or 'First Floor' (as they are colloquially referred to by
the officers), of this police station consist of white men.
Despite the fact that shift command, or middle management,
is in the hands of black officers, their superiors are all
white men. Many of the black shift members speak about the
'white rule' at this police station. All these officers, senior and
junior, are expected to work together peacefully and
respectfully, delivering quality service to their community.
Nobody facilitated their adjustment to the widespread
political changes that affected their daily working lives. I
started wondering why they had not sought help to facilitate
their adjustment to the changes. Dianne also wondered about
their need to seek assistance: Why didn't they seek help? There
are probably lots of answers to this question, like the fact
that they were unaware, afraid, or stopped by messages from
society that prohibited them for seeking help. The answers
to these questions could bring you to the real
answers. When I asked the officers about
their reluctance to look for help, their answers, ranged
from 'there is no time' to 'they couldn't care less about
us'. They did not receive any help in addressing and
questioning their beliefs, prejudices and racist ideologies.
The SAP changed its image from a force to a service on paper
and the officers were expected to follow suit without extra
training, diversity training, assistance or preparation (see
Chapter One, Section 1.2), resulting in an artificial
'acceptance' of the status quo while officers' true feelings
were disregarded. Minor differences between officers
frequently acquired a racial flavour whenever disputes were
between officers from different racial groups. In my
opinion, this 'racialisation' of conflict is evident in all
areas of non-integrated society. There is very little trust between
members of different racial groups: white shift members are
reluctant to work 'outside' or alongside black partners. The
white officers complained that their black colleagues do not
have drivers' licenses or cannot read or write, making it
impossible for them to take down a complainant's statement.
Distrust of their black colleagues, willingness and/or
ability to defend them if their lives were in danger was
frequently mentioned. Racial differences feed on distrust,
half-truths, history and disillusionment, always widening
the gap between racial groups. Black officers told me how
they hated working 'outside' with white officers, because
they did not feel 'free' to enter into a friendly
conversation or even ask for a cigarette. The lack of trust
between officers from different races complicated shift
management. When I started the study, the shift commander
tried to accommodate the members by assigning them to work
with people they preferred to work with, in an attempt to
avoid racial conflict. However, at the time of writing, the
captain in charge of the shifts took a step of resistance
against racism by insisting that white and black members
work together on every shift where possible. Black officers who had been
promoted to middle management experienced difficulties
managing their shift members. Their subordinates complained
of victimisation and oppression. I recall a recent incident
between two black inspectors: one inspector became the shift
commander, while the other one was appointed as
second-in-charge of the shift. The black inspector who was
second-in-charge complained about victimisation from the
black shift commander. Victimisation is a serious
accusation, and necessitated investigation. While the
investigation was in process, the inspector who had
complained about victimisation was transferred to another
unit. Dianne had thoughts of her own about this transfer:
Was this a social transfer, making
it easier not to face the victimisation? In this example, 'the over-seer, in
order to make sure of his job, must be as tough as the owner
[authority figure] &endash; and more so' (Freire
1985:23). The oppressed, instead of striving for liberation,
tend themselves to become 'oppressors,' or 'sub-oppressors':
the very structure of their
thought has been conditioned by the contradictions of the
concrete, existential situation by which they were shaped.
Their ideal is to be men; but for them, to be a 'man ' is to
be an oppressor. This is their model of humanity. This
phenomenon derives from the fact that the oppressed, at a
certain moment of their existential experience, adopt an
attitude of 'adherence' to the oppressor. (Freire 1985:22)[my
emphases] 4.5 LITERACY AND
TRAINING I soon learned from the officers
that sixty eight percent of all the members on shifts were
black, which is more or less representative of the community
they serve. Many of the black members had been 'special
constables' in the previous SAP. Before 1994, these
constables were held responsible for the security of
buildings, amongst other things. During the Truth and
Reconciliation Commission hearings some special constables
were implicated in the so-called war in the KwaZulu-Natal
midlands in 1990 (SAPA 1996). After 1994, the members of the
security forces from the former homelands were incorporated
into the SAPS as full constables and allocated to various
police stations. Seven of the special constables at this
police station were 'illiterate' , or at least partially
literate, due to the educational inequities of the past.
Their 'illiteracy' placed an extra burden on their
colleagues and resulted in criticism of these illiterate
officers, criticism with a racial flavour. In an attempt to
remedy the situation, the captain arranged for seven
constables to attend a literacy course. They were offered
the opportunity of literacy without any extra cost, and they
would have attended the classes after working hours. Not one
of the seven special constables attended the literacy
courses. They are still 'illiterate'. Their apparent apathy
towards literacy actually annoyed station management.
When I heard this story, I wondered
whether the special constables had been consulted about
their identified need for literacy, and whether they might
possibly have experienced being called 'illiterate' as an
insult? I wondered whether they might have been more willing
to attend literacy courses if they had been consulted about
it first. I also wondered whether station management gave
cognizance to the fact that these officers might not have
had the means to attend courses after hours due to financial
and transport difficulties. Illiteracy limits their
functionality and hence these seven officers are now only
allowed to guard prisoners. Illiteracy places extra pressure
on an already stretched service delivery, as, despite having
officers on duty, many are unable to fulfil their full
functions. Before 1994, White and Black police
officers received their training at segregated police
colleges. Pretoria West housed the white police college,
where white policemen and -women received their training.
White police students who had not completed their schooling
were able to receive complementary education whilst
completing their police training. This enabled white police
officers to matriculate if they had left school before
completing Standard Ten (Grade Twelve). Black officers, who
trained at Hammanskraal Police College before 1994, were
denied this opportunity. Many of them still have not
matriculated. In fact, they were not aware that their white
counterparts had been offered such opportunities. The
current minimum entry requirements for the police service
are a matric certificate, a valid driver's license, no
criminal record, good physical and mental health for all
applicants between the ages of eighteen and thirty years.
Since 1994, all prospective officers receive the same
training. Some of the black officers at this
particular police station came from the previously
independent homelands. Their training differed from the
training the South African police officers received during
the apartheid era. These differences in training also cause
problems between shift members, as training directly
influences praxis. 4.6 PROBLEMS MANAGING
PEOPLE? When I started the study, there
were two white shift commanders and two black shift
commanders. Over time, this gradually changed. All the shift
commanders are now black men. One white shift commander
found a better position in the private sector; a black
officer replaced her when she left. The other white shift
commander was transferred from shifts when his subordinates
reported his racist practices. A black officer filled his
position. There are currently four black shift commanders, a
white captain and a white superintendent in charge of
shifts. Recent promotions created many more inspectors on
the shifts: there are now eleven officers who hold the rank
of inspector on the four shifts. For the officers in charge
of station management, these changes complicate human
resource management. Insufficient training, illiteracy and
lack of knowledge result in comments like these: 'In
performance four inspectors [black] are equal in
value to one [white] inspector.' The white officer
in question did not regard this as a racist remark but as
reflective of the inconsistencies of their police training,
that complicate police service delivery. Dianne picked up on
this remark: 'This is very, very important!!! This is
indicative of a mindset that fosters racism, for example, "I
am not being horrible, I am just being honest!"' The client services manager and the
captain in charge of shifts asked me to assist them with
recurring racial conflicts on the shifts. I agreed, not
fully realising the extent of the problem at the time. When
I started talking to the officers, individually and in
groups, I became aware of the deep divide that still exists
between black and white officers. Work allocation, food
preferences, work performance ability and transport problems
are examples of sparks that could ignite racial conflict.
4.7 RACIAL INCIDENTS There were many racially inspired
incidents that I can recall, but one stands out in my
memory. It concerned the station commissioner and a black
superintendent from the detective unit. It appears that the
superintendent from the detective unit had parked his car in
the spot traditionally reserved for the station
commissioner. (The officers explained to me that there has
always been some competition and sometimes friction between
the detective unit ('Second Floor') and 'First Floor'
management of shifts of this police station.) First and second floor management
have the privilege of reserved roofed parking bays. The
first bay is allocated to the most senior person at the
station, the next bay for the next officer in the
hierarchical line, and so forth. The parking bays are also
exclusively reserved for official vehicles. One of the white
managers from first floor had nowhere to park his private
vehicle. Without consulting the rest of the officers
involved, he decided to park it in the client services
manager's spot, thereby rearranging everybody's parking. The
client services manager now had nowhere to park his car, so
he parked in the head detective's spot. This resulted in a
domino effect: the head detective parked his car in the
station commissioner's place, and the station commissioner
was furious! When we deconstructed the whole situation, it
became clear that the white officers had not discussed the
situation with one another to find a solution, but because
the head detective was black and from 'second floor', Racism
got a foothold. We discovered that the source of the problem
lay in entitlement, seniority and white privilege, which
fosters selfishness and a lack of consideration for other
people's needs. [Selfishness and
inconsideration!] The illusions of racial harmony and
respectful practice between the races I had initially
harboured, were systematically shattered by what I witnessed
and heard. I still cannot speak or understand any of the
African languages, but I am proficient in Afrikaans and
English. I can understand all the subtle cultural innuendoes
made by white people. Because I am a white Afrikaans woman,
the white officers spoke to me freely, easily sharing their
true feelings with me. The black officers did not trust me
initially, but I struggled to gain some degree of their
trust, for which I am very grateful. The narrative therapy
position of respecting and honouring other people's
knowledges, ways and preferences made it possible for me to
remain in a questioning position at all times. I approached
all the officers with respect and offered them my time,
skills and friendship. When I did not understand something,
I asked their advice and opinions. I frequently went to the
police station at night when they needed help with a
complainant or officer; I worked with them on their day and
night shifts. Over a period of eighteen months, seven or
eight of the black officers accepted my presence at the
police station, and started confiding in me. Joining me in
confronting and challenging racist discourses. Questioning
invisible racist discourses that mar respectful police
practice is in essence a political action. It addresses
issues of social power, oppression and the subjugation of
one social group over another. 4.8 THREE MOMENTS OF
RACISM Frankenberg (1993) identifies three
moments in the racial discourses and changes. The first is
essential racism with the emphasis on race differences
understood in terms of hierarchical terms of biological
inequality, set by the dominant white culture. The second
moment has to do with acknowledging essential similarities,
a colour-blindness, which, according to Frankenberg
(1993:14) distinguishes between 'colour-' and
'power-evasiveness.' A third moment focuses on differences,
not to accentuate inferiority but to signal autonomy of
culture, values, with inequality referring to social
structures and challenges to change domination and eradicate
institutional discrimination &endash; a moment she calls
'race cognizance.' I used the notion of the three
moments of racism to guide me in deconstructing the presence
and strategies of racism. The police officers' struggles,
silences, in small steps of resistance to racism, but also
the naked face of essential racism became apparent as we
entered into conversation with one another. 4.8.1 Essentialist
racism Essentialist racism 'views race as
a marker for ontological, essential or biological difference
&endash; a discourse that dominated white thinking on race'
(Frankenberg 1993:138). When I listened to some of the words
the white officers used when discussing racial issues, I
recognised essentialist racism, a residue of legalised
racism and oppression. They described the ways in which they
perceived themselves to be biologically different from black
people: 'One white officer can do the job of four black
officers.' Or: 'I am not prepared to work outside with a
black officer as my partner. First of all he cannot read or
write, second of all his training is pathetic and thirdly,
how will I know that he will cover my back when I need him?
A white man is definitely more trustworthy and I feel
safer.' Another officer (white) said: 'I
was recently attacked by a black suspect and my black
colleague stood by and watched. He did not come to my aid. I
won't fall into that trap again.' Some white officers from this
police station remarked on differences in biological
qualities, like body odour and physical features, to support
their beliefs in an ontological difference between the
races. Racist remarks are commonly voiced in 'safe' company.
Dianne agreed strongly: 'YES, YES, YES!' This depicts the enormity of the
challenge for white people in this country to make
restitution and speak out against these forms of extremism
and cultural stereotyping. The tragedy of essential racist
ideas lies therein that it 'has left a legacy that continues
to mark discourses on race difference in a range of
ways
.precisely because it proposed race as a
significant axis of difference, essentialist racism remains
the benchmark against which other discourses on race are
articulated' (Frankenberg 1993:139). Simple day-to-day activities like
meal times and food preferences can cause racial conflict.
White members frowned on the black officers' preference for
traditional foods such as meat and maize porridge,
traditionally eaten by hand. Complaints that the black
officers spend too much time over lunch, and return to the
client services station with their hands full of 'pap'
(maize porridge) were common. One of the senior staff members
from 'first floor' refused to spend much time downstairs, as
he perceived the client services centre as too dirty. He
refused to drink from the coffee cups downstairs, alluding
to the poor hygiene of the client services centre. Everyone
who lived on the white side of the fence will remember how
unusual it was for white people to share their teacups and
coffee mugs with black people (Mandela 1994:67). An instance
of using only one's own cup may be a matter of personal
foible and/or hygiene, but in this particular case, I
wondered whether this police officer was really concerned
about the level of hygiene at the client services centre or
whether he was still trapped in apartheid discourse. When I
asked him about this practice, he replied: 'You cannot be
too careful these days; there is a lot of AIDS around.' This
may imply his inherently racist assumption that black
colleagues may have AIDS, suggesting that this may be a case
of ignorance about AIDS breeding contempt for a member of
another race. Furthermore, he made no secret of his
insistence on drinking only from his own cup or his refusal
to drink tea downstairs. Shift 'braais' are traditionally a
way in which the officers relax, drink a few beers and
debrief after a particularly gruelling shift. Before the
shifts were racially mixed, it was easy to arrange a shift
braai. However, during the hearing by the Truth and
Reconciliation Commission, the world heard very different
stories about shift braais: they had very bad connotations
for black people (De Kock 1998:36) Dianne agrees: 'Very bad
connotations with Vlakplaas. Very bad idea to invite the
black officers to these braais.' Now white officers invite their
black colleagues to join them for shift socials, as a
gesture of 'true generosity' and 'reaching out in
friendship'. The white officers are usually most taken aback
when their black colleagues do not join them on these
occasions. One of the black officers cited transport as one
problem:
we have trouble with
transport. Some of them don't even know where we live. And
then they expect us to come in for shift socials on our days
off. That's why we cannot attend their functions; we don't
have the money or the means to keep coming back to the
police station on our days off. And they just think we are
not interested in mixing with them. However, I also started wondering
whether I would attend shift socials if I were a black
officer, and came to the conclusion that I probably would
not. Why would I join the whites if I perceived their
deepest convictions to have remained unaltered? Surely their
attempts at 'true generosity' would be no more than 'false
generosity'? Freire (1985:21) describes the difference
between false and true generosity: Any attempt to 'soften' the power
of the oppressor in deference to the weakness of the
oppressed almost always manifests itself in the form of
false generosity; indeed, the attempt never goes beyond
this. In order to have the continued opportunity to express
their 'generosity', the oppressors must perpetuate the
injustice as well. An unjust social order is the permanent
fount of this 'generosity', which is nourished by death,
despair and poverty. That is why the dispensers become
desperate at the slightest threat to the source of that
false generosity. Sometimes officers tried to mask
essential racism or avoid thinking about it by focusing on
the work at hand or the rising crime rate: I really don't have time to sit and
quibble about racism. We have work to do, and we have to do
it. If they want to work with us, fine. If not, they must
go. I have seen what the blacks do to each other and to
whites, so I don't have the time or the patience to split
hairs about niceties and racism. We have lots of work to do &endash;
the crime rate is spiralling out of control &endash; we
battle without enough members, poor resources
I do
not have time for talks about racism
4.8.2 Moments of colour- and
power-evasiveness Through colour- and
power-evasiveness, sameness between races is emphasised as a
way of rejecting the idea of white racial superiority.
Frankenberg (1993, 1999) describes how in order to
counteract essential racism or prejudice an attitude of
colour-blindness is adopted. Accentuating 'difference' is
considered bad through colour-blind lenses, while
accentuating 'sameness' is seen as 'good'. Frankenberg
(1993) describes colour-blindness as colour- and
power-evasion. Colour-evasion embraces cultural and other
diversities: To me, they are like me or anyone
else &endash; they're human &endash; it's like I told me
kids, they work for a living like we do. Just because they
are Black is no saying their food is give to them. If they
cut them, they bleed red blood, same as we do. (Frankenberg 1993:143) The above statement reflects a
point of view that opposes seeing blacks as 'not human', by
insisting on their humanness. However, there is also a
distancing between 'them' and 'us' as well as an inherent
power structure of who decides to bracket 'coloredness'
(Frankenberg 1993:147). I came across the following
responses from white officers trying to work from a
colour-evasive point of view in an attempt to move away from
essentialist racism: We all bleed red blood when we are
wounded. I couldn't care less whether they
are blue, green or purple. In the police we have no colour, we
are all blue. I witnessed many variations on the
themes of colour- and power-evasiveness during my
conversations with police officers. Frankenberg (1993:140)
describes the ways in which these three moments together
constitute discourses within which race is made meaningful
when racist elements are 'combined, recombined, used in
articulation with or against one another, and deployed with
varying degrees of intentionality' (Frankenberg 1993:140).
The ways in which the police officers linked and combined
these racist elements were, like in Frankenberg's study,
'repetitive and linked to larger social trends and
movements' (Frankenberg 1993:140). Two senior officers spoke out in
favour of social change at the station. The previous station
commissioner believed in a facilitative form of management
and the encouragement of the officers' personal and
professional development. However, when asked about her
views on cultural diversity, she claimed that cultural
diversity created problems for women senior officers, 'as
black officers refuse to take orders from me because I am a
woman'. This form of cultural stereotyping is essentially
separatist in effect. It places a barrier between white
women in powerful positions and their black male
subordinates. In other words, 'beyond the details of
language, the struggle to deal personally with a particular
dimension of the racial order' (Frankenberg 1993:141) seemed
to run through her life story. The senior officers spoke out in
favour of social change, but, despite their commitment to
the 'new South Africa' and the 'Rainbow nation', they
inadvertently perpetuated and maintained the themes of
colour evasiveness and power-evasiveness: Those who authentically commit
themselves to the people must re-examine themselves
constantly. This conversion is so radical as not to allow
for ambivalent behaviour. The man who proclaims devotion to
the cause of liberation is yet unable to enter into
communion with the people, whom he continues to regard as
totally ignorant, is grievously self-deceived. The convert
who approaches the people but feels alarm at each step they
take, each doubt they express, and each suggestion they
offer, and attempts to impose his 'status', remains
nostalgic towards his origins. Conversion to the people requires a
profound rebirth. Those who undergo it must take on a new
form of existence; they can no longer remain as they
were. (Freire 1985:36) Colour- and power-evasiveness
preserve the power of essential racism, despite the best
intentions of its adherents (Frankenberg 1993:147) to move
away from it. Freire (1985:32) explains the reasons behind
colour- and power-evasive kinds of talk: For the oppressor, however, it is
always the oppressed (whom they obviously never call 'the
oppressed' but &endash; depending on whether they are fellow
countrymen or not &endash; 'those people' or 'the blind and
envious masses' or 'savages' or 'natives' or 'subversives'
who are disaffected, who are 'violent', 'barbaric',
'wicked', or 'ferocious' when they react to the violence of
the oppressors
) Freire's words quoted above
reminded me of the heyday of apartheid: white fear of 'die
swart gevaar' , a term used to promote fear of black people
and to generate a mood of resistance to meaningful
change. I frequently witnessed examples of
all moments of racism, but when challenged by my reflections
on their racist comments, the white officers vehemently
denied that racism was present. In a genuine effort to
accept people from other racial groups, and to bridge the
racial divide that exists between them at the police
station, the officers frequently trip over the correct way
of speaking about race. The words they used when talking
about race in the past have become redundant, leaving them
with a linguistic vacuum that had to be filled with
politically correct terminology. From the white officers'
talk, it sounded as if 'people of colour' could only be
'good' insofar as their 'coloredness could be bracketed and
ignored' (Frankenberg 1993:147). Furthermore, officers of
colour were only accepted by their white colleagues as
colleagues 'if they could do the job as well as we can.' The
white officers never gave another thought to the world from
which their black colleagues came. The fact that their black
colleagues grew up in a world of racial discrimination, lack
of privilege, lower educational standards and racist
legislation did not make an impression on them. When I
inquired as to their thoughts about their knowledge and
feelings about the historical contexts of a black person's
life under apartheid and even now, the white officers often
greeted me with impatient comments [my
emphases]: When can we just forget about
apartheid? I'm sick and tired of hearing that word.
Everybody blames everything that goes wrong on apartheid.
When are we going to look beyond it and carry on like
normal? They had the same opportunities we
had! They must stop using apartheid as an excuse for
everything. When can we just forget about it and carry
on? Phrases such as these are
indicative of the wave of cynicism that swept through white
police officers about racism and the work of the Truth and
Reconciliation Commission. 'The old mechanisms of avoidance
are seemingly intact even today'' (Asmal et al 1997:145).
Polite public languages contrasted
sharply with private languages. While talking in a racially
mixed group, all officers addressed one another
respectfully. The accepted mode of address is formally
prescribed by the hierarchical militarist system of rank
where an officer is expected to address another officer by
his/her rank as a form of respect and discipline. However,
in private conversations between white officers and myself,
their true sentiments became evident. The same applied to
conversations I had with black officers. I witnessed extreme
racist comments about men and women of colour from white
officers. I did not understand the black officers' talk
amongst themselves, but when they were prepared to speak to
me, they openly accused their white colleagues of racism.
When I remarked on the accusations of racism to the white
officers they invariably replied that they 'don't mind what
colour the person is, as long as he can do his job, and
these guys are illiterate'. One or two white officers openly
admitted to 'hating blacks' and were not prepared to
question or discuss the matter any further. Generally, the white officers did
not consider the reasons for their black colleagues'
illiteracy; or their own complicity as white South Africans,
or the privileged background white people had enjoyed purely
by virtue of their race. Their attitude confirmed the
following argument: 'Privileged South Africans under
apartheid lived less under a regime of ignorance than a
carefully calculated avoidance.
apartheid's
beneficiaries still dissociate their current privilege from
their atrocious past' (Asmal et al 1997:145). White officers
were simply irritated by 'yet another dumb black officer'.
They were not prepared to consider past power and privilege
imbalances. Their refusal to acknowledge past imbalances
projected an arrogance and 'naivety' which only serves to
perpetuate essential racism. The moral and political
shock-absorbers which allowed the privileged imperfectly to
rationalise the horrors of apartheid were not always
discrete and easily identifiable mechanisms. They were a
pervasive set of social constructs involving formal and
informal conventions, patterns of behaviour and cultural
self-regulation that eased the tasks of apartheid's
legislators and its militarists. Prime among these was the
simple assumption, often &endash; but not always &endash;
taken as too obvious to require explicit statements, that
whites were superior humans, and blacks subhuman, if human
at all. (Asmal et al 1997:145) The white officers wanted more than
anything for apartheid to be over and done with: 'Can't we
just please forget about all that now? How long will people
blame everything on apartheid? For goodness' sake! We must
carry on now.' Yet surely these truths, about the
informal social conventions and the ostracism that gave
apartheid its resilience, form an important chapter in any
full picture of the past. We cannot just dismiss these
truths by saying that the past 'is over.' The past will
never be over unless we move deliberately and systematically
to end it. (Asmal et al 1997:161) Racism proceeds by erasure (Cohen
1999:274). The white officers totally disregarded the role
racist legislation played on the real lived experience of
their colleagues of colour: Bantu education , overpopulation
and poverty in the black townships, the hunger, social evils
and abuse black residents faced living and growing up in
those conditions. Their apathy exposes a lack of
self-reflection and a denial of their white complicity. It
also speaks of insensitivity and a deeply ingrained
entitlement to white privilege. When binary opposites such as
'sameness' and 'difference' are used the power disparity
between groups, can be evaded as well as masking the fact
that society is dominantly structured. Power and privilege
cannot be organised in these simple binary terms. Power and
privilege are multifaceted and challenge people to an
awareness of how racism has structured his/her life and how
their own lives have been informed by it. It challenges a
person to constantly re-evaluate situations, to place it
into a historical context of structural racism. It
challenges all South Africans to a third moment &endash;
race cognizance. 4.8.3 A third moment of racism:
race-cognizance Race-cognizance implies stepping
outside mainstream consciousness, reflecting on how race
impacts on the self, but also addressing political and
social structures. Race-cognizance is not only
soul-searching (Frankenberg 1993:177), but implies action
that brings about social change. Race-cognizance further
implies a critical perspective, a continuous process of
reflection and re-negotiation of interracial relationships.
Race-cognisant people acknowledge their collective
responsibility and are not paralysed by guilt. Some officers made a genuine
commitment to change, respectful practice and non-racial
thinking. These pioneers commanded respect by living by
respect. Dianne remarked that she thinks these officers
should receive some form of formal recognition for their
genuine commitment to change: 'Double their salaries and
print their pictures in the papers!' I am reminded of how one black
officer called the white client services manager his
'father'. He explained that, from his point of view and
cultural values, this is a great compliment. It reflects a
relationship of trust and care in which he is not
patronised. The client service manager's fellow white
officers also treat him with respect, and many of them are
trying to emulate his behaviour and values. 4.9 NARRATIVE PASTORAL PRACTICES:
LOOKING IN THE MIRROR 'There is no greater good than
empowering humanity and revitalizing society. Like politics,
economics and education, religion is devoid of meaning
unless it contributes to this process ' (Ikeda
1999:9). South Africa has undergone a
negotiated settlement. Three words are likely to dominate
the political scene in the near future: truth,
reconciliation and justice. Truth must be pursued as the
basis of renewal. Reconciliation needs to be the goal of the
process. The state does not, however, have the power nor the
right to forgive (Villa-Vicencio 1996:137). Religious
institutions have a special role to perform in assisting the
healing of the nation. Organised religion could invite every
South Africa to discern just how the past has affected
him/her, to accept his/her particular responsibility
regarding the past and to resolve what reasonably needs to
be done in the creation of a new future (Villa-Vicencio
1996:133). 4.9.1 Negativity and the morale
survey Here in South Africa what we've got
to deal with is not only an historic situation over which we
have no control, but the effects of that history which are
with us now. There are all sorts of consequences and
legacies from past injustices that have got to be
addressed. (Boraine 1998:44) The initiative to take steps of
resistance against racism originated with the client
services manager. He had experienced a number of racially
inspired conflict situations amongst the shift members, and
he wanted the problem addressed. Negativity amongst the
shift members resulted in frequent absences from work
without leave, protracted sick leave and interpersonal
conflicts. The police human resources department gave him a
morale survey for the shift members to complete sop that he
could reach a better understanding of the members' feelings
about their work. The morale survey opened up space
for shift members to voice their opinions and frustrations
honestly and anonymously. It provided them with an
opportunity to voice their opinions about relations between
different units, the level of recognition for good work, the
management style, equal opportunities for all members,
community satisfaction with their service and their
resources and working conditions. Some of the responses were
extremely alarming. The members' rage at current racist
practices, feelings of powerlessness and hopelessness and
entrapment became evident. One respondent even threatened
suicide in his/her reply. The replies to the moral survey
exposed Racism as the cause of negativity at the
station: At this station a black officer
will get no further than sergeant. The black inspectors that
you see here came from outside this station. Have a look at
first floor; they are all white! Being a member at this police
station is like committing suicide. I feel like killing
myself and I want to get out of this situation very soon.
This is like serving a life sentence. I am very much dissatisfied. The
racism makes me negative and I am not motivated. We are still oppressed and job
reservation is still one-sided. I am not happy because people are
discriminated against according to their colour and gender.
Some people's complaints are taken serious whereas others
are not even looked at. However, many officers replied with
positive comments about life at this police station. Despite
the imbalances in power that had existed in the country and
the police service in the past, these men and women were
still able to express hope in the future and pride in their
work: I am feeling proud as the community
trust me to root out crime. I am feeling satisfied as many
tasks are allocated to junior management. I am proud to be a member of the
South Africa Police and regard myself as a mirror of the
police service, which means I have to behave in an exemplary
manner both on and off duty. I feel proud to be a member of the
South African Police Service and to serve and protect the
community. I just feel fine to be a member of this
station. I feel very good because the
station members accept me. I personally take it as an
opportunity of a lifetime, but there is still a lot to be
changed. Working here feels like an
adventurous moment in my life. I have wanted to be a police
officer since my school days and I feel good because I was
meant to do this job. The client services manager is
someone who, in Cohen's (1999:244) words, is committed to
'recognise and name the injustices and then to help lift its
oppressive yoke by acknowledging its function as a badge of
racial exclusion and privilege.' The intensity of the rage
exposed in the morale survey convinced him that racism had
to be addressed. In fact, the intensity of the negative
replies blinded the client services manager and myself to
the wealth of satisfaction, good interpersonal relationships
and positive interactions the majority of the members who
completed the morale survey reported. I complied with the
client services manager's request to intensify my
therapeutic efforts. I visited the officers on their night
shifts, facilitated group conversations with those who were
willing to speak in a group setting and spoke to the other
officers in informal ways as well as in more structured
one-on-one therapeutic settings. 4.9.2 Questioning racism Many privileged South Africans have
long lived in what Dutch-American novelist Hans Koning might
have called 'The Almost World', a place of oblivion which
exists, if at all, only in neurotic acts of rejecting
reality. Some still live there. The old South Africa was, to
its ideological adherents, always almost a racially pure
country; it was always on the brink of that breakthrough.
This Almost World is sustained, even now in the new South
Africa, by aggressive acts of denial and forgetting; by
erased facts and manicured history. (Asmal et al 1997:211) The white officers found it
extremely difficult to name and acknowledge racism and
racist practices. I asked all the officers, black and white
alike, to suggest ways in which they could comfortably speak
their minds. An officer remembered that he had felt free to
express his true feelings in the morale survey referred to
above. The other officers agreed that they would feel safe
to answer a questionnaire if their identities would not be
disclosed. I compiled a narrative
questionnaire called 'Questioning Racism' (see Appendix G),
consisting of questions that explored the 'landscape of
action and landscape of identity' (White 1992:128) (see
Chapter Two, Section 2.4.2) creating a context for the
history of the problem of racism in the police service.
These questions encouraged police officers to remember
unique outcomes or lived exceptions to the problem story of
racism. If steps of resistance are secured as part of a
story or sequence, the exceptions to the thinly described,
problem-saturated story line Racism offers, makes preferred,
alternative re-descriptions possible. Landscape of action
and landscape of identity questions that invited the
officers to recognise the identified unique outcomes in
terms of unique re-descriptions of self, others and
associated unique possibilities (White 1992:127). The questionnaire consisted of
three parts. In Part One, the questions were designed to
expose the successes Racism has had in their lives. Epston
(1998:221-222) and McMenamin's (1998:42) work guided me in
the selection of questions for this part of the
questionnaire. Part Two focused on the generation of a
question that exposed Racism's failures, lies and tricks
(Epston 1998:222-223). In Part Three of the questionnaire,
the officers were invited to reflect on their replies and to
consider how witnesses and victims of racism and
discrimination would have felt if they had been able to act
as an audience to respondents' replies to the questions
posed. These questions are also known as experience of
experience questions (Epston & White
1992:132). 4.9.3 Responses to the
questionnaire More than twenty officers (black
and white) originally agreed to complete a questionnaire on
racism. I only received seven responses to the questionnaire
via the training officer. According to her, some of the
reasons the officers gave for their non-participation were
time constraints, the length of the questionnaire, bad
timing, as they were all preparing for their promotional
boards, and a lack of interest in the topic. Apartheid was an elaborate
historical blindfold as well as a gag; its privileged were
wilfully blinded, its victims forcibly muted. (Asmal et al 1997:207) The seven members who did complete
the questionnaire, did so voluntarily, maintained their
anonymity and completed the questionnaire in their own time.
As the seven respondents' identities were to be protected,
no attempt was made to determine which side of the racial
divide they were on. 4.9.3.1 Anger and grief Three of the respondents wrote
about their anger at past and present suffering, which
prevents them from grieving over their losses: 'My anger
stops my tears at the pain we had before.' This comment made
Dianne cry: 'This is the best quote I have read to sum up
the macho prison we live in.' 'We suffered a lot. I am still
angry but it does not help to cry about it.' 'A man does not
lie down and cry. I will fight for my rights.' These words
reminded me of the 'tough guy culture' that denies officers
tears and encourages them to rather fight (Chapter Three,
Section 3.6.2). During the hearings of the Truth
and Reconciliation Commission (Krog 1998; Boraine 2000)
South Africa and the world heard how oppression and racism
wounded the lives of black people during apartheid. Nomonde
Calata, the wife of Fort Calata, one of the Cradock Four,
who was brutally murdered in 1984 cried out during a hearing
and her cry was for Krog (1998:42) '...the ultimate sound of
what the process was all about
the sound
it will
haunt me for ever and ever': In the middle of her [Nomonde
Calata's] evidence she broke down and the primeval and
spontaneous wail from the depths of her soul was carried
live on radio and television, not only throughout South
Africa but to many parts of the world. It was that cry from
the soul that comes from the hearings of a litany of
suffering and pain to an even deeper level. It caught up in
a single howl, all the darkness and horror of the apartheid
years. It was as if she enshrined in the throwing back of
her body and letting out the cry, the collective horror of
the thousands of people who had been trapped in racism and
oppression for so long. (Boraine 2000:102) Lapsley (1996:21) describes how he
came to terms with losing both his hands after opening a
letter containing a letter bomb: I realise that if I became filled
with hatred, bitterness, self-pity and desire for revenge, I
would remain a victim forever. It would consume me. It would
eat me alive. Yes, I do grieve, and will always
grieve especially for my hands. At times I experience great
frustration. It is not easy to be stared at wherever you
go. However, I am no longer a victim,
nor even simply a survivor, I am a victor over evil, hatred
and death. During the hearings of the Truth
and Reconciliation Commission, South Africa and the world
heard how oppression and racism wounded the lives of black
people during apartheid. We witnessed their pain and saw
their tears, but we also became aware that 'wherever there
is evil, there will be resistance to it. Understanding
resistance is crucial to demystifying racial and gender
oppression' (Poling 1993:103). During the hearings of the
Truth and Reconciliation Commission we heard many voices
that were long silenced, unheard and unheeded (Krog
1996:viii). Like the voices of ordinary people who entered
the public discourse, these officers who responded to the
questionnaire voiced their anger at past injustices and the
legacy it has left in its wake for all South
Africans. 4.9.3.2 Powerlessness While unfettered power corrupts,
powerlessness corrupts too. (Asmal et al 1997:215) Respondents to the questionnaire
voiced powerlessness at the organisational similarities
between the SAP and the SAPS before and after
apartheid: When we ask for transfers for good
reasons, we are denied, but white members can ask for
transfers for nonsense and they don't even have to wait;
they just get a ticket to go. (See also Chapter Five,
Section 5.4.3.) We all have to pretend there is no
racism here. But it is here. The white shift commanders use
work time to do privates, and then they moan at us when we
have trouble with transport. Some of them don't even know
where we live. And then they expect us to come in for shift
socials on our days off. That's why we cannot attend their
functions; we don't have the money or the means to keep
coming back to the police station on our days off. And they
just think we are not interested in mixing with
them. They tell you there is no racism
and that they treat us like equals. But it is not true. When
we all sit and talk together, we are silenced, because some
of them are our superior officers. I cannot speak out before
my superior officer, even if he is younger than me, because
he is white and his power is strong. But I am telling you
now, those who say they are not racist, are the worst.
Dianne reflected strongly on power
and betrayal: This comment is very reflective of
a general feeling that pervades most of society and has,
before, hence the ideological conflicts between ANC
activists and liberals, hence the feelings of betrayal some
of us feel when blacks join the DP (Democratic
Party). The replies made me wonder whether
some of the other officers who did not participate in the
questionnaire experienced this sense of helplessness and
powerlessness. What motivated their non-participation? Was
their silence part of Racism's strategies to gag and mute
South Africans? As poet Adrienne Rich (in Asmal et al
1997:211) remarked: '
silence can be a plan rigorously
executed
Do not confuse it with any kind of absence'.
Dianne agrees: 'YES!' 4.9.3.3 Isolation and feelings of
separation Six of the seven officers expressed
feeling isolated and separate. Some of them described it as
effects of the racist and discriminatory injustices that are
still a part of their daily work life: I prefer to work with members who
are black, because we are free to talk together. When I am
assigned to work with a white officer, I do not feel free. I
do not feel the same even if I am doing the same
job. I feel that the white officers
think I cannot do my work. Four of the seven officers said
living far from their workplace increased their feelings of
isolation and separateness. They attributed their
difficulties with transport and financial problems largely
to apartheid, and expressed exasperation at some of their
colleagues' inability to comprehend their difficulties. As
the Group Areas Act (1950) systematically restricted
ownership and occupation of land in proclaimed areas to
specified population groups (Asmal et al 1997:137), black
people were formally disadvantaged. It uniformly
disadvantaged black people, 'uprooting communities,
destroying businesses and leaving property rights to the
whim of a single government minister, administrative
functionaries and local municipalities (Asmal et al
1997:137). These injustices have not yet been fully
re-dressed, except in a few instances. Generally, black
people who cannot afford to move to the more affluent,
previously white suburbs, still live in the areas prescribed
by the Group Areas Act of 1950, which are commonly far from
urban centres: Apartheid's systematic policies of
forced removals and resettlements created dumping grounds
for human beings, almost uniformly leaving them at a far
remove from the normal incidents and necessities of social
and economic life. These locations bred disease and death.
And even when physical survival had its deadening side,
since there was little possibility of well-functioning
social institutions. There could be no community life in
these places; there were no town squares. Those who survived
the genocide faced the walking death. The empty life, of
what one international lawyer has called 'sociocide.'
This sociocidal process was present
also in the townships where little effort was made to create
cohesive communities; and where housing, schooling and
recreation were segregated along tribal lines, in a manner
designed to advance the divide-and-rule strategies of
apartheid. (Asmal et al 1997:201) During a racially mixed,
introductory group conversation between myself and the
officers from a specific shift, one officer said: 'If you
come to this station looking for racism, you will never find
it on this shift.' He said that he, an Indian man, had
expected to encounter racism when he moved to that
particular shift, but that to his surprise, he said he never
experienced it. The rest of the shift members listened
quietly as he spoke, neither disagreeing, nor agreeing with
him. The white shift commander smiled and looked pleased.
When the group session was over, I invited all the members
who wanted to participate in the study to contact me. Nobody
from that particular shift volunteered. Shortly thereafter, I learnt from
the client services manager that the white shift commander
had been taken off shifts due to allegations of racism from
his subordinates. Furthermore, the Indian officer who had so
vehemently denied Racism's presence resigned from the
service. Nearly a year later, I had the opportunity to speak
to some of the black officers who had been part of that
particular group conversation. We all knew one another
better, and I felt more confident to ask them about the
events that occurred during that group session. One officer
told me that the shift commander in question had masked his
racist prejudices behind a blanket of very strict
discipline, and favouritism, which silenced the officers for
fear of retribution. They had to wait for the right moment
to report his racist practices to the authorities. Another
member said it took them quite a few months to expose these
racist practices to the client services manager, who dealt
swiftly with their complaints by moving the shift commander
to another position and reporting the racist incidents to
the appropriate authorities. Nobody seemed to know the real
reason why the Indian officer had sought discharge from the
service. Some officers speculated that he might have been
offered a better position in the private sector. But nobody
seemed to know for sure. I wondered whether he had left
because the white shift commander had been moved to another
department. I also wondered whether the black officers on
that shift had been offended by his denial of racism during
our group session, and whether they had ostracised him. When
I asked the black officers from that shift why they had
remained silent about the shift commander's racist practices
for so long, they found it very hard to express their true
feelings. Dianne had different thoughts about
this matter: 'I bet their reasons for remaining silent are
different. Could it be that the black officers fear the
power wielded by white SAPS officers, while the whites
experience the loss of power?' White officers also admitted to
being silenced and reluctant to expose power abuses and
internal problems. As one officer explained: 'I have to look
after my career in the service.' Fear of retribution
silenced both white and black officers. It seems that
officers of both races frequently turn a blind eye when
senior officers abuse their rank and privilege. I wondered
whether the black officers feared the power wielded by the
white superior officers, while the white officers remained
silent because they feared the loss of their
power. 4.10 NARRATIVES FROM GROUPS AND
INDIVIDUAL SESSIONS A counselling project initiated by
the Aboriginal Health Council of South Australia in 1994
provided me with guidelines for culturally sensitive
practice. The narrative metaphor informed their project, as
the story metaphor was more appropriate to Aboriginal
culture than conventional Western Mental Health approaches
(Dulwich Centre Newsletter 1995:3). Like Aboriginal culture, African
culture also favours the oral tradition (Boon 1996:64) and
acknowledges the importance of collective consciousness and
a sense of community. Oral traditions resonate with the
narrative practices of telling, re-telling and re-authoring
of lived experiences. These expressions, Umuntu ngumuntu
ngabantu (Zulu) and Umutu ke mutu ke batho (Sotho) mean a
person is only a person because of other people. This is the
philosophy of ubuntu (Zulu) or batho (Sotho). Ubuntu cannot
exist unless there is interaction between people, and it
'manifests through the actions of people, through truly good
things that people unthinkingly do for each other and for
the community. One's humanity can therefore only be defined
through interaction with others' (Boon 1996:32). The narrative and postmodern
metaphor is a practical approach because it fosters openness
and sharing but also honours diversity and questions
grand-narratives and oppressive discourses. Racism is a
highly charged topic in South Africa today. Only an approach
that can recognise problems with sensitivity, without
blaming and internalising languages, could be an appropriate
way forward for this project in the police service.
4.10.1 Naming the
injustice The counselling project for
Aboriginal people in South Australia (Dulwich Centre
Newsletter 1995:19-20), documented steps that were
particularly helpful to them in addressing injustices. In my
work with the police, I borrowed some ideas from the
Australian project, but also incorporated other narrative
practices I had become familiar with. From my reading, I
identified 'naming the injustice' as an important step in
individual and group conversations. Dianne was surprised
that we had managed to name any injustices at all: 'Naming
the injustice could not have been so easy when the perceived
perpetrators of injustices are in the same group!' The black
group members did find naming the injustices difficult in a
mixed group. It took a long time for the black group members
to trust the process and to start to participate in the
conversations. Some preferred to talk with me when there
were only black officers present. Narrative ideas work in the context
of a world-view and set of attitudes (Freedman & Combs
1996:195). Problem stories, or dominant discourses, are
persistently problematic, and are often supported by
cultural attitudes and practices. My purpose in using
narrative approaches to problem-saturated stories was to
keep the alternative stories (exceptions to the
problem-saturated plot) alive, and to help people make the
alternative stories they were authoring thicker and more
multi-stranded (Freedman & Combs 1996:195) so that it
can create hope for all who have inherited racism
(Frankenberg 1993:182). Racism is a formidable foe. It was
not unusual for an alternative story to fade between therapy
sessions as described by Freedman and Combs (1996:195). The
practices that were most useful in individual and group
conversations were naming the injustices, externalising the
problem and therapeutic letters. Naming an injustice is an essential
step in the process of overcoming it: It usually highlights the issue,
and relieves some tension in the person or group that
considers they have been unjustly treated. Likewise, it
often encourages a self-conscious reflection in the person
or group that is considered to have acted unjustly. This
too, is an essential part of any process of change.
(Tamasese & Waldegrave
1996:53) In one-on-one dialogues with black
members, they freely named the injustices they had suffered
as racism and oppression. They described how racism had
robbed them of their feelings of self-respect and
self-pride: Racism made me to revolt. It took
away my confidence when a white person is around. Living with racism made me hate
myself and hate policemen. Racism made me see myself as a
weakling and made me question my own abilities. It made me have a bad self
image. Racism and discrimination affects
people mentally and when you experience such mental
oppression, the slow torture will destroy you. Black officers were not exempt from
racist practices purely because they were police officers.
They suffered the same injustices as the rest of the black
population of South Africa. The 'injustices experienced by
past generations are carried actively in the form of shame
and sadness by the present generation, and have real effects
on their lives' (Dulwich Centre Newsletter 1995:6). The
black officers expressed their anger at past injustices,
while present injustices despite living in a democratic
country further fuelled their anger. So for example, they
said they are angry and disappointed that the senior
management at their police station is still made up only of
white officers: 'Today there is still lily white units and
management as well as 'buddy-buddy' working
relationships.' By contrast, even in one-on-one
dialogues, white group members found it very difficult to
name the injustice as Racism. They frequently became
defensive, denying the legacy racism has left South Africans
to contend with. They preferred to talk about 'reverse
racism' and to lament about lost privileges that would have
been guaranteed in the past: Even without any talk of
reparations
the mere suggestion that some kind of
symbolic reification might be in order arouses an immediate
pained reaction. Cries of 'discrimination' are uttered,
echoing the equally incoherent use of the 'reverse racism'
concept across a whole range of contemporary moral and
political debates in the new South Africa. (Asmal et al 1997:139) It bears no relation to the lived
experience of the oppressed. Asmal et al (1997:65) describe
how the thinking of those who were privileged in South
Africa's became blunted by decades of language that obscured
the truth and misled the people: These abuses of language functioned
as alibis for the racism of the past, though they failed to
conceal it. Such distortions thrived in a mindset that still
exerts vestigial influence today, one in which the concept
of reverse discrimination slips as easily off the tongue as
all the dishonest moral and statutory concepts that preceded
it under apartheid. (Asmal et al 1997:65) Racism used its normative
invisibility to blind almost all the white officers to its
existence. They fit perfectly into the category of the
'previously privileged' as described by Balcomb (1998:58):
There isn't much racism here, is
there? Everybody is equal at this police
station. We are all working together now.
And as if to prove this: ' The
shift commanders are all black officers.' The client services manager is a
man with vision, a devoted Christian. He recognised the
injustices of the past, and has dedicated his police
practice to fairness and restitution. He is an admirably
brave man, respected by officers of all races. Some white group members' found it
very hard to recognise the overt and covert presence of
racism: 'The naming of this problem conflicts with the
status quo, and feelings of comfort immediately
dissipate
.The experience can be disturbing, upsetting,
guilt-inducing, and polarising and generally creates
disharmony' (Tamasese & Waldegrave 1996:52). Their words and actions served to
perpetuate essential racism, colour evasiveness and power
evasiveness. They were oblivious to the fact that they were
acting or speaking in disrespectful ways or of the effect
that their words had on people of colour, as one black
officer explained: Racism has made us feel inferior
and made us think every white is superior to us, even though
the white person may be empty-minded. That's why even now
you can't find white and black sitting together. There is a
distance between us and those who are Afrikaans
speaking. The white officers usually spoke
respectfully when in racially mixed company, but frequently
made overt, essentially racist remarks when black officers
were not part of the conversations. During racially mixed
group conversations, political correctness and pretence
muzzled the speakers, rendering their words indistinct. The
black officers reluctantly spoke about the effects of
injustices on their lives. One young black officer said he
felt too intimidated to speak his mind in front of his
superior officers, because, as he explained, it would have
been improper and 'culturally unacceptable' for him to do
so. Racism made black and white officers cautious and
distrustful of one another (see Chapter Five, Section
5.3.2.3). 4.10.2 Externalising the
problem Racism is probably the most
sensitive problem in South Africa. During the individual and
group conversations, externalising practices liberated us to
question, to speak of and speak to the problem without
experiencing the restraints that characterise internalised
discourses (White 1995). Challenging these restraints, we
used story-telling as a healing practice. Narrative
practices of story-telling are best described in the words
of Bruner (1986:11): It is in the performance of an
expression that we re-experience, re-live, re-create,
re-tell, re-construct and re-fashion our culture. The
performance does not release a pre-existing meaning that
lies dormant in the text. Jung (1959:40-41) contends that
fundamental change in individuals can only come from direct
personal interaction. I embarked on dialogues that promoted
trust and forestalled conflict between the races with
individual members, in group settings and in formal and
informal conversations. Using externalising conversations
more as an attitude than as a methodological technique or
linguistic trick (Freedman & Combs 1996:47) emphasised
the fact that Racism was the problem; the people were not
the problem. The effects of Racism are very real to the
black officers. Externalising practices offered white and
black participants hope, enabling them to talk about the
painful effects of racism without tripping us up with
blaming practices. Externalising conversations made ways of
talking about Racism possible as the officers experienced an
identity that was distinct from them. Externalising Racism
invited white people who had perpetrated racism to look in
the mirror and acknowledge complicity. It enabled white and
black officers to speak, albeit tentatively, about the
effects racism has had on all South Africans. I am
interested in how people can be assisted to develop the
exceptions to the dominant, problem-saturated story of
racism into an alternative, preferred story of
respect. According to Foucault (in Freedman
& Combs 1996:48) the most politically powerful
discourses in modern society divide people from each other
and invite people to treat themselves as problematic
objects. Externalised conversations about Racism helped the
officers and myself to name Racism and its allies as the
problem and to recognise its injustices and strategies for
the police service, providing white and black people with a
common goal. Suspicions were defused and mutual confidences
developed, while the officers and I were all aware of the
dangerous ground we were treading. Group dialogues became a
'zone of peace' where white and black people were able to
question 'truths' and seek alternative ways of overcoming
the hurdles Racism used to obscure good interracial
relations between police officers. 4.10.3 Taking steps of resistance
against racism Dianne felt very strongly about the
responsibility that she perceives all South Africans to
have, regarding taking steps of resistance against racism:
'This is the key. It needs to be actively practiced a
hundred percent of the time, in all areas of living. It's
too easy to fall back on one's old ways when they are not
challenged.' In the group session the officers
and I witnessed many instances where officers from the
different races chose to treat one another with respect and
tolerance. Respectful, tolerant interactions were told,
documented and re-told in the re-authoring process, as steps
of resistance to oppression, prejudice and racism.
Taking steps of resistance to
racism is the key to hope and respectful practice. The
officers who were part of the group expressed a need to
practice respect all the time, and to be challenged when
they return to their old, racist ways of thinking and
speaking. On one occasion, two officers, a
white man and black woman, worked together on a highly
emotive project. They disagreed with one another on a small
issue, freely hurling verbally abusive comments at one
another. During our group conversation they recalled how
angry they had been, but also related how they had managed
to apologise to one another. It illustrates how these two
people had learnt to keep silent, to listen to one another,
to respect the other person's point of view and to tolerate
one another. The philosophy of Ubuntu implies
both compassion and recognition of the humanity of the other
(Asmal et al 1997:21) that comes to the people of Africa and
the police officers at this police station, through
traditional African roots: morality, humanness, compassion,
care, understanding and empathy (Boon 1996:31). This
philosophy permeated this group conversation. It illustrated
that these officers knew and appreciated the value of
respect, and trust, and that they were able to develop these
qualities as personal strengths, despite the
institutionalised legacy they had inherited from Racism. It
was in stark contrast to the examples of essentialist,
colour-evasive and power-evasive racism that I had witnessed
in other interactions with police officers. The group conversations exposed how
racism had managed to blind South Africans to one another's'
humanity, but it also showed everyone present in the group
that respect, sincere apology and tolerance were possible
between men and women from different races. I believe in the
following statement:
the lives and relationships
of people are shaped by the stories that communities of
people negotiate and engage in to give meaning to their
experiences. These have real consequences. They are not
merely reflections or representations of our lives &endash;
they actively shape, constitute and 'embrace' our lives.
(Dulwich Centre Newsletter
1995:18) Once we had identified a preferred
event, an example of where the officers had succeeded in
respectful and tolerant interaction in the group situation,
I tried to link their respectful interactions to other
respectful interaction across time. This helped to thicken
the narratives of respectful practices and helped to
strengthen the revival of respect in police practice at this
station. I asked the officers to evaluate
whether they had experienced the respectful interactions as
positive or negative, and whether it was the way they would
have preferred interactions between police officers from
different races to be. All agreed that they would prefer
more of these respectful interactions in their relationships
with one another: 'The therapy gave us hope. It made us
aware how isolated we had become. Now we work as a team who
want to work respectfully with one another.' 4.10.4 Developing respectful
practices Plotting the alternative story of
respect in the landscape of action required me to ask
questions which exposed the small, often invisible steps
that were taken to oppose the dominant story of racism. Some
of these questions are the following: How did you prepare yourself to
apologise for abruptness and not listening? What exactly did you say when you
'apologised from the heart'? Was this decision to apologise your
own or did somebody else play a part? What was it that guided you to
accept his apology? Was it an image or a value or something
you said to yourself? Or was it something different that
made it possible for you to forgive him and go on with a
respectful relationship? Landscape of action questions
involve queries into the details of the particular unique
outcome or a small step of resistance against racism, or
into any other actions or events that might be linked to it
(see Chapter Two, Section 2.4.2). 4.10.5 Re-authoring an identity of
respect Narrative questions involves
participants in a recursive process because through
landscape of action questions one establishes accounts of
characteristics, motives, commitments, and so on, that
inform the arrangement of experiences of events in the
landscape of action (White 1995:31) (see Chapter Two,
Section 2.4.2). Some examples of the questions I
used to plot the landscape of identity in therapeutic
conversations and the therapeutic letters are set out below:
What do you think the respectful
ways in which you spoke to each other during the group
discussion said about you as a multi-racial, multi-gendered
group with different ranks and experience? What does it say about you as a
person? What do you see in the relationship
between black and white officers if you look at the respect
between these two members? Who would not have been surprised
at the fact that the members at this police station managed
to turn their backs on disrespect? Linking one respectful exception to
Racism's plot of disrespect and racial division, made it
possible for the officers and I to project respectful
practices into the future, as well as to reflect on the
changes the officers had made in the past and those they
were currently busy making: We worked through racial
differences and across gender and cultural barriers. We
could carry out the exceptions that we became aware of,
respect, hope and feeling positive, to other units, shift
members and the public. The officers from the research and
therapy group were able to extend their respectful
interactions with one another beyond the group sessions,
with a positive effect on the working relationships between
races in the client services centre. The client services
manager remarked how one of the senior officers, who had
attended all the group sessions, had grown in understanding
and the recognition of the strengths that lie in diversity.
This police station was formerly mono-cultural and
autocratically managed, with Afrikaans as the dominant
language. Their efforts are currently transforming the
culture at this police station into a multi-lingual
workplace where the management are becoming aware of the
strengths that diversity brings (see Chapter Five, Section
5.5). In the client services manager's words: When I assign a black man and a
white woman to work on patrols, immediately the community
can be served in seven languages instead of two. In my
opinion, police women are more empathetic and better at
conflict management that the men. Racially and gender-mixed patrols
combine authority, language and gender as strengths with
which they are able to serve their community. This stands in
stark contrast to a discriminatory mindset, where strengths
were seen in sameness. The previous station commissioner had
insisted that only Afrikaans be spoken in meetings. This has
changed, because officers can speak in English or any other
language that all the members understand: White officers now frequently speak
in broken African languages to their black colleagues,
whereas before, during the apartheid era, they mostly spoke
Afrikaans. Black and white officers shake hands in
friendship, and have started to attend social events
together. There is a definite movement in the
direction of inclusiveness and acceptance of difference in
terms of the sexual preferences and diversity: We are also moving from a
homophobic to an accepting mindset. Do you remember the time
when one of our officers came out of the closet during a
meeting, it was respectfully accepted by all? We see diversity as positive. We
can learn from different perspectives. If we look at
problems from different angles and different perspectives we
have a far better chance of making an impact on
crime. The Afrikaans officers have such a
good work ethic. If they can just deal with their racism and
prejudice, we will be able to implement this multi cultural
strategy of inclusivity. The captain reported having seen
officers treat one another with more respect: white and
black officers greet one another, shake hands on occasion,
sometimes drink tea together and make jokes with one
another: We developed respect for one
another irrespective of race or gender. We realised that we
needed each other to finish our task successfully. We
realised that we are cogs in an intricately designed time
piece. Our service delivery improved. We
implemented an evaluation system to establish training needs
and provide in-service training. The managers at this station are
moving from an autocratic management style to one that is
more participatory and acknowledges the different voices
that were never privileged before: We never heard the voices of women,
blacks, or gays. Now we are using the cultural strengths
from all the groups of people who work here to improve our
service delivery and combat crime. I think we are communicating
better. We really started listening to the complaints the
shifts had and made notes of their concerns, suggestions and
pain. We tried to provide them with a glimmer of light and
hope. We implemented changes to address their
complaints. The changes they made were not only
of an attitudinal nature. Despite a lack of funding, they
made enormous structural changes to the client services
centre, benefiting the officers who work at the station, as
well as the community they serve: 'We broke down the old
client services centre and beautifully refurbished our
reception area.' Promotions from within became a
reality for the black officers as many sergeants were
promoted to the rank of inspector now: 'The shift commanders
are all black officers.' The groups encouraged the officers
to wonder about their prejudicial position on race. It is
common to see white and black officers greeting one another
respectfully when they come on duty and share a joke or two
while they are at work: 'We decided to start with ourselves
to set the example in everything we did. We decided to make
respect, compassion and discipline our motto.' I am reminded of an incident where
a white traffic officer brought a black suspect to the
charge office and manhandled him in front of the client
services manager. The client services manager intervened and
sternly warned the officer in full view of all the officers:
'You will never treat somebody like that again at this
station. We are here to secure people, to arrest them
safely, not here to punish people; see that they get to
court in a safe way.' This is one of the ways in which the
group members started setting the example of respectful
police practice. The group members also claimed that
they benefited on a personal level from the group
conversations: The groups raised my awareness that
I need to get in touch with my own emotions and to take
responsibility for my actions. The groups highlighted the
importance of respect for one another. Some of the officers' comments
reflected a glimmer of hope and a positive attitude
regarding a narrative pastoral approach to problems
encountered by police officers: The groups and individual sessions
helped us to identify and correct institutional problems,
like constrained racial relationships and power imbalances.
We were stimulated to think creatively and to approach
problems from different points of view. I certainly enjoyed
and benefited from all the conversations. I feel things are slowly coming
right. 4.10.6 Summarising therapy letters
as part of the re-authoring process Therapeutic letters were very
useful as summaries of the conversations. The letters also
served as a forum for reflection on the alternative story of
hope we aimed to develop and keep alive during the
conversations, and the letters became a link between the
therapeutic sessions. During individual and group
conversations with the officers, small steps of resistance
against oppression were discovered (Wade 1996 in
Kotzé 2000). I had many individual conversations
with the police officers, both white and black officers,
over a period of 18 months. Every time, I summarised the
individual conversations and reflected on the content of the
conversations in a therapy letter, which I sent to the
officer involved. I followed the same procedure when I
worked with officers in groups. The group letters were
addressed to every group member. Here follows an excerpt
from a therapy letter I wrote as a summary to the group,
reflecting on the discoveries they had made about good
interracial relationships: Reflecting back on our first group
conversation, you told me that it felt 'nice to just talk
and have people listen'; you appreciated 'confidentiality
and speaking from the heart'; and that you believed that
'when we discuss work problems, we will find solutions.' It
really touched me when Boitomelo* said that rank does not
interfere in the group, 'because we are all brothers and
sisters' and that she did not feel frightened or intimidated
because of the people who are in this group. The officers found the group
conversations helpful and progressively easier to
participate in, despite the fact that we spoke about some
very emotive problems, such as racial tension and conflict.
They said they experienced a 'caring and sharing' atmosphere
in the group context, and that they felt respected and
heard: In these sessions we got to know
each other and the para-military stiffness was eradicated.
We worked through racial differences and across gender and
cultural barriers. We experienced an atmosphere of hope and
caring. The group sessions made it possible
for officers to tell and be told others' stories of pain,
hardship and suffering. We were also the audience for
stories of pain and triumph over racism. All group members
acted as a listening team, and were given an opportunity to
reflect on their thoughts and feelings in the group context.
4.11 NARRATIVE THERAPY-AS-RESEARCH
AS ETHICAL PASTORAL PRACTICE Tutu (1996:8) calls for the healing
of the South African nation. He calls for the healing of
those who bore the brunt of the apartheid system and states
that religion should be central to this process. He urges
South Africans to reach deep into the spiritual wells of the
different religious practices in this country to draw
strength. He suggests that those who follow in the Christian
tradition might have a special responsibility in this
regard, because 'this nation has through the years employed
Christian theological resources to promote apartheid
&endash; a system that is today accepted by people
throughout the world as a crime against humanity.'
[YES!] He is right, the nation needs
healing. Victims and survivors who bore the brunt of the
apartheid system need healing, as do the perpetrators of
apartheid. Tragically, Christianity has historically been
central to people's killing each other in the name of God:
'Until fairly recently the white Dutch Reformed Church
(Nederduitse Gereformeerde Kerk) had been steadfast in its
support of apartheid. It had provided the theological
rationale and had even preceded the politicians by proposing
certain legislation to bring effect to the God-sanctioned
separation of the races' (Tutu 1999: 145). Organised
religion played a mayor role in institutionalising
apartheid. Dianne agrees with Tutu's (1999:45)
statement, but adds: Except for one or two shining
examples. Organised religion played a lesser part in
resisting apartheid as well as actively punishing it own
congregants who were resisters of not only the regime, but
church doctrine as well. At the same time, liberation
theology was the heartbeat of the resistance. Religion
sustained many women and children, particularly, in
surviving apartheid. Churches and funerals were often very
important places and events in this resistance. However,
visible steps towards healing the wounds left by racism from
those who practised a theology which supported and justified
the harm apartheid had done in the past is sorely missing.
Despite their public apologies and admissions of complicity
and guilt, the mainstream Afrikaans churches have remained
almost exclusively white. I wonder whether the church
liturgy is such that it does not attract the membership of
black people. I wonder whether the ministers from these
churches are speaking out against racism during their
services. I wonder how welcome black Christians would be
made to feel at the tea after the service, if they should
decide to attend a service. Resistance to apartheid also
occurred within the Christian tradition. The Anglican Church
is a case in point: it has always been opposed to apartheid
in its formulations, conferences and synod resolution.
However, ironically, the Anglican Church lived out an
apartheid form of existence (Tutu 1999:145). The same is
true of many other Christian denominations, most of whom
admitted their complicity with apartheid before the Truth
and Reconciliation Commission. The role religion could play
in the healing of the nation depends upon where we position
religion. If it is true that Christianity can
both harm and heal, would it be possible for Christianity to
accept the challenge to create something new &endash; a
forum where oppressive discourses could be addressed, like
racism, gender inequalities, the abuse of children and
women, and sexual orientation? Or will Christianity remain
prescriptive, judgmental and exclusive? Poling (1996:175)
suggests some strategies that could assist people from
dominant cultures to start 'thinking through race'
(Frankenberg 1993:137). Poling (1996:175) suggests that we
develop a 'spirituality of resistance', where people from
dominant cultures join the struggles of resistance
communities. He asks us to immerse ourselves in the stories
and lives of the oppressed to enable us to start thinking
about resisting the evils of racism. Dianne shares her reflections on
human reaction to evil as follows: Resisting evil might be a natural
spontaneous reaction (of course people don't always act on
their spontaneous reactions
but that's a different
debate. It's not something we should have to think about,
the question to ask is 'why haven't I resisted before? How
can I resist now? A big question we used to ask ourselves as
white South Africans, is WHY DIDN'T I RESIST BEFORE?
[Dianne's emphases]. Resistance is only possible once we
have thought through the discourses of race for ourselves.
Poling (1996:176) encourages us to 'practice goodness' by
living in solidarity with resistance communities: Solidarity with communities of
resistance requires action. Sometimes using words in
speeches, articles and books can be forms of action. But
most of the time action requires working with our hands,
experiencing rejection, sharing deprivation, going hungry,
putting our bodies in danger, fearing assault or murder.
Communities of resistance always exist in a web of violence
and danger; therefore living in solidarity brings us face to
face with violence and fear
It is a far simpler process to
'practice goodness' when one is working with the oppressed.
In this study, many of police officers were oppressors
during the apartheid era. Some of these officers were men
and women who had been guilty of human rights abuses, acts
of police brutality and racism. The question arose as to how
one could encourage these police officers to think and act
in respectful ways that were not forced on them by
legislation, but would become their preferred ways of
serving their community. That was probably my greatest
challenge during this study: how to be in solidarity with
the officers whilst challenging their racist mindset in
order to encourage them to choose and prefer racially
respectful police practice. It is a long and painful process of
looking in the mirror, finding one's own complicity, and
acknowledging one's own ways of denial of responsibility for
the oppression of black coloured and Indian people. Only
then can action be taken that will help this country's
victims, survivors and perpetrators of crimes against
humanity achieve pain relief and healing. Poling (1996:176) encourages us to
take a moral inventory with which to confront the abuser
within (Poling 1996:177), to confront persons of power and
to negotiate with institutions. The prophetic or political
pastoral practices we employed to question, deconstruct and
resist racism at this police station can be seen as the
small beginnings to re-kindle the embers of hope for racial
harmony between black and white police officers. But it is
really only a beginning. It is very clear to me that a
tremendous amount of work still needs to be done to address
and redress the racial power imbalances in the police
service itself and the community at large. Some of the
exceptions to Racism's dominant plot of racial hatred and
intolerance may seem very insignificant to the reader, but
in the words of a young black officer: We need to tell one another about
the beautiful things in one another's culture. That will
breed respect. Talking about these painful issues will bring
relief and understanding which will help us all mentally and
physically. Narrative pastoral therapy is in
essence political and prophetic, interested in the history,
politics and oppressive, dehumanising and disrespectful
effects of discourses on peoples' lives, and in
participating with people in finding ways of resisting the
effects of or participation in these discourses. Narrative therapy recognises the
ways in which dominant cultures impose themselves on people
and rob them of their history and preferred ways of being.
It acknowledges the importance of naming injustice and its
exploitation of people's lives, as well as the crucial
importance of supportive communities in reclaiming preferred
ways of being (Dulwich Centre Newsletter 1995:19). Such
prophetic and political pastoral practices in the workplace
can bring about social change and contribute towards a more
ethical society. There is no greater good than
empowering humanity and revitalizing society. Like politics,
economics and education, religion is devoid of meaning
unless it contributes to this process. (Ikeda 1999:9) Part of the supposed mission of
Christianity is to provide a place of shelter, healing, and
comfort for the weary. Fear of loss of privilege builds
barriers of aversion, discrimination and exclusion on the
basis of race, religion, gender, social class, financial
status and personal preference. Pastoral therapists and
practical theologians have a responsibility to the people of
this country to destroy and overcome the barriers to
healing, to guide South Africans from all races towards
reconciliation, and to be uncompromising when confronting
evil. The Christian tradition should also
help people discover themselves anew, find liberation,
reform their consciousness, and elevate their souls for the
sake of the creation of more ethical and moral communities
and societies. Ikeda (1999:9-10) suggests that fulfilling
these functions constitutes the real worth of religion in
relation to reforming the times. Only then can it contribute
to overcoming the identity crisis and bridging the gap
between 'local concerns' and the 'over-arching goals of
global civilisation'. This project, during which we help up
the mirror of hope to racism in the police service, opened
space for some officers to question and deconstruct their
previous racist ideologies and to commit themselves to
respectful racial relations with people of different races.
All South Africans share a
collective responsibility towards the healing of the wounded
in our nation: victims and survivors, oppressors and
perpetrators; those who grieved and those who are still
grieving. Somewhere the story of the agony of
the contemporary Afrikaner
will converge with the
stories of millions of those recently emerged from
oppression. That point of convergence may very well be the
point at which ordinary Afrikaners recognise, through
confronting their own histories, the enormity of the horror
that was done on their behalf, and which, as willing agents,
they helped bring about. (Ndebele 1998: 25) 4.12 CONCLUSION The first step towards peace is to
recognise the other party's humanity. (Ikeda 1999:17) In South Africa, Racism has became
a 'social habit' (Ndebele 1998:23). Political changes have
shifted the balance of power extensively, resulting in
displacement of officers from all the racial groups. Racism
has erased from memory the fact that, 'no matter how
precarious their comforts may be now, fifty years ago they
[white officers] were very dependent on 'government
handouts' (Wellman 1999:318). Furthermore, during the years
of white privilege, 'whites were four times more likely than
blacks to be fully employed' (Wellman 1999:319). Frankenberg
(1993:135) remarks: I have begun to suggest that conceptual
transformation does not take place randomly, but rather in
response to what has gone before and in the context of
choosing among or challenging pre-existing discursive
frameworks. Dianne shares her feelings on
ignorance: Ignorance of each other is the
cruellest and most spiritually damaging legacies left by
apartheid and I believe this is one of the reasons we are
experiencing the kind of backlash of crime. The setting
apart of apathy is coming back to haunt its architects.
It took courage, passion and a firm
belief hope in the possibilities for racial harmony to
expose Racism and all its allies in this study. Other issues such as language,
religion, preference will remain, as is human, but RACE
fades in the face of commonality. The common fight against
poverty, or 'the enemy', or 'the state' supersedes the minor
differences of racial difference in the underground. It just
wasn't important in the light of the bigger picture.
[Dianne's emphasis]. Courage and hope are essential; we
must never lose these vitally human qualities. Each of us
must awaken to our unique mission as protagonists in the
transformation of history. And we must unite in a shared
human struggle to confront and resolve the pressing problems
facing our planet' (Ikeda 1999:25). REFLECTIONS Now, I begin to grow with
wisdom In learning from painful
passion That &endash; I am expanding more
and more As every pang arouses rapturous
awareness Of the good that comes out of
painful experience (Rakgoate in Turkington
1998:51) 5.1 INTRODUCTION In this chapter, I reflect on the
process of therapy-as-research that took place over the
period of eighteen months. The context of the study was one
police station in an urban area. Approximately 80% of the
police officers assigned to the shifts and the domestic
violence response unit participated in the study in one way
or another. Senior officers consulted me regarding personal
and organisational problems that had a negative effect on
their personal and professional lives and the station's
service delivery. Policemen and -women of different ages,
races, ranks and hierarchical positions participated in
individual and/or group contexts. Individual sessions were
either for individual therapy, crisis intervention, critical
incident debriefing or for help with very personal problems.
The group sessions were geared towards deconstructing
work-related problems as a team. The therapy-as-research
generated sixty-five therapy letters and some therapeutic
documents (see Chapter Three, Section 3.8) following on from
individual and group conversations, crisis interventions and
critical incident debriefing sessions. I am left with a
lasting impression of the need that exists for emotional and
spiritual support for the police officers in the
SAPS. The officers and I reflected on the
content of our conversations throughout the study. The
officers who were prepared to reflect on this written
research report as a document were provided with draft
copies of all the chapters to ensure that the information
contained herein does reflect of their lived experience. As
co-authors they edited and altered the text by including or
deleting information, or changing names and details they
felt did not reflect their knowledges and experience. The
therapeutic process continues even now, after the research
has been concluded. It is my ethical responsibility to keep
travelling on certain roads with individual officers and
group members beyond the time constraints imposed by the
research. In conclusion I would like to share my reflections
on specific aspects with the reader. 5.2 LOOKING BACK ON THE PROCESS OF
THERAPY-AS-RESEARCH The aims of this research were to
deconstruct secondary trauma and racism at a SAPS station in
a collaborative process with police officers, guided by the
research questions set out in Chapter One (see Section 1.3).
The research aims as possible goals for this study were
formulated prior to the commencement of any therapy or
research. At that time I did not realise the full extent of
Stress and Racism's effect on police officers and their
lived experience. The full extent of these problems became
clearer as the work progressed and the police officers
gained confidence in the process of therapy-as-research. The
study certainly exposed the damaging effects of Stress and
Racism on the lives of the police officers who participated
in the study, and revealed ways in which the discourses of
Stress and Racism maintained and supported one another. Some
discourses that kept Stress and Racism intact were for
example, homophobia, prejudice, and various forms of abuse
and violence. The officers re-authored their stories by
taking steps of resistance to these oppressive discourses,
acting on their choices to live according to their own
preferences. The therapy-as-research process situated the
dominant discourses at the police station in a broader
context of policing and South African culture, thereby
addressing problems across a broader base. Situating problem
discourses in a broader social context facilitates not only
individual steps of resistance, but also social change in
that context (Dulwich Centre Newsletter 1995:3). 5.3 REFLECTING ON OUR WAYS OF
WORKING The therapeutic process doubled up
as the research process in this study. It was an open
process, making possible both narrative pastoral therapy and
accountable, transparent action research. Throughout the process of this
study, I did not function as an isolated individual who came
to observe the officers' behaviour and write a report on
what I saw at the conclusion of the study. My involvement
with the police officers can best be described as
being-in-community (Cochrane, De Gruchy & Petersen
1991:2) with the officers. Joining the officers on patrol,
working day and night shifts with them, and being present as
a non-governmental officer on their premises were 'moments
of insertion' for me (Cochrane et al 1991:17): The moment of insertion locates our
pastoral responses in the lived experience of individuals
and communities. What people are feeling, what they are
undergoing, how they perceive this, how they are responding
&endash; these are the experiences that constitute the
primary data of the context. I recall many 'moments of
insertion' (Cochrane et al 1991:17) during my eighteen
months at the police station. They occurred not only when
the officers and complainants needed pastoral care in
moments of pain or sorrow, 'but also when the community of
faith is struggling to be faithful to its prophetic task'
(Cochrane et al 1991:17). In the police context, such
moments are quite critical, even now, in the post-apartheid
era. Problems of violence and suffering are everyday events
at the police station, which take on a new dimension when
related to oppression (Cochrane et al 1991:17). Moments
during which I was directly confronted with these realities
were the basic points of departure for a 'holistic practical
theology which refuses to reduce its concerns to the
atomized individual or family' (Cochrane et al
1991:18). My practice was guided not only by
my own belief system, but also by the ethics of narrative
pastoral therapy, which privilege practices of
confidentiality, accountability, transparency and power
sharing. 5.3.1 Confidentiality The officers told me they were
reluctant to use the psychosocial and pastoral services
offered by the SAPS (see Chapter One, Section 1.2) as they
distrusted the system: 'What if it went in my file? It would
be bad for my career' was a frequent excuse for not using
the services that the SAPS makes available to them. During
this therapy-as-research project, I made a point of
maintaining confidentiality at all costs. I did not file any
information shared during sessions with any individuals in
authority or groups, or pass information on to superior
officers. Problems were never discussed outside the
therapy-as-research process. Such practices of
confidentiality encouraged the officers' trust in me as
therapist and in the therapy-as-research process. 5.3.2 Accountability Accountability is not a process of
acquisition of information, but an ongoing commitment to
learning and changing (Swan 1998:37). As I am writing from
the point of view of a white, married, Afrikaans woman who
was privileged by apartheid, I had to ensure accountability
on various levels. I repeatedly asked the client
services manager and the field training officer to find out
how the officers felt about the therapy-as-research process
we were involved in. The black and white officers trusted
and respected their client services manager (see Chapters
One and Three) and told him when they felt comfortable or
uncomfortable about therapeutic and research practices. The
field-training officer worked very closely with all the
members of shifts, and the officers' comments to her about
the therapy-as-research process were very useful. Their
reflections about the process in my absence guided me in
meeting their needs and clarifying misunderstandings and
doubts the officers had. I encouraged the officers'
reflections during and after the therapy-as-research
process, during individual sessions, at groups, in letters
and during informal discussions. When I had completed the
research process, I made the preliminary drafts of this
paper, of which I am the primary author, available to the
officers who participated in the study, for their comments,
changes and suggestions, all of which have been incorporated
into this document. Cochrane et al (1991:16) argue that
to make things explicit to oneself is not only to become
self-aware, but also to allow for being self-critical, and
to open oneself up to questioning from others. In order to
obtain outside opinions on the therapy-as-research process,
as well as on this written document, I invited a white woman
who had been very involved in the anti-apartheid struggle to
read and reflect on this work. Her comments were
illuminating and challenging, and held up to me a mirror to
my own complicity and privilege. She commented on my silence
and non-involvement during the struggle for liberation in
South Africa, and immediately picked up on the fact that the
white officers wanted to simply forget apartheid and carry
on, while they tried to minimalise the pain their black
colleagues were living with as 'something of the
past'. 5.3.2.1 Reflections from a
previously disadvantaged pastoral therapist In order for me to remain
accountable to people of colour and the previously
disadvantaged, I invited an Indian narrative pastoral
therapist, who has experienced the injustices of apartheid
first hand, to read Chapter Four, which deals with racism.
His reflections on narrative practices, language and the
plight of the previously oppressed were extremely useful.
His honest and helpful comments hit the raw nerve of my
white complicity and privilege, exposing the pain apartheid
caused him and his loved ones. He again made me self-aware
of my prior commitments, and as I had asked him to do,
challenged me to reflect on what these commitments were
based, and how they affected my entire approach to practical
theology. He questioned my credibility and my credentials to
act as an agent of racial change and has given me permission
to quote from his letter (overleaf). This is an important project but I
would like to ask you some questions as well: Do you have black friends, not
acquaintances? Have black people slept in your guest bed? Do
you do charity for blacks from a distance? Have you been
into a township home and eaten pap with the poor? What
credentials do you have as an Afrikaner to be an agent of
racial change? In terms of trustworthiness and
accountability, did someone other than you converse with
participants about how they felt about you, that is,
suspicions, mistrust, [or] reservations? Your
personality may be mistaken as being domineering, which to
black people may be misinterpreted as being racist. Do you
think a black woman would have been able to do this project
and gain the same 'acceptance' as you did? (Singh 2001:1) My first reaction to his questions
was to retreat into defensiveness. But, when I realised how
easily these very just questions could have polarised us as
people from two different races, I attempted to reflect more
honestly on these very painful issues. His questions held up
an essential mirror of accountability to me and made me
re-think my role as a racially constructed person in South
Africa. After the officers had reflected on the contents of
Chapter Four, some of them responded with the same defensive
attitude I experienced after reading the comments from my
Indian colleague regarding my work with police officers. I
learnt from this work that accountability as a narrative
practice means, listening with curiosity and exploring the
effects of my practices on the police officers, instead of
acting like the expert of their lives. By doing so again,
when I read my colleague's response, I could begin to
address my own defensiveness. Journeying beyond
defensiveness meant that I became more willing to question
my own behaviour and to be open to the views of people of
colour. To respond to one of the critical
questions asked by my Indian colleague, yes, I do feel I
have a responsibility to be an agent for racial change in
South Africa. This study is one of the ways in which I can
participate in the apology for my white complicity and
privilege. It is a way in which I can take responsibility
for the atrocities perpetrated by my people in the past, and
represents my way of offering some form of healing to those
who were left wounded as a result. Because I am a white
Afrikaans woman, I can speak with some credibility to white
police officers, and can approach their struggles from a
position of compassion and empathy, while at the same time,
I can challenge the dominant racist discourses that still
actively bind many of the officers. As for my communication
with officers from groups other than white Afrikaners, I can
only claim the privilege of sharing information conferred
upon me by such participants. Without a doubt, a different
researcher will have different interaction and different
insights, given every individual's different social
constructedness. I also consider it my prophetic
pastoral task to begin to understand the experiences of
these officers as they arose. Gerkin (1991:74) says the
first thing we notice is that the occasion for the exercise
of prophetic ministry arises unexpectedly in the normal flow
of everyday events. Dominant discourses at the police
station emerged as the officers went about their daily
tasks. There was no need for the officers, the managers or
myself to force confrontations about the issues at stake.
The officers themselves brought the issues that troubled
them to the conversations. I attempted through practices of
accountability and transparency to deconstruct the
power/knowledge relation. A power differential almost
invariably exists between therapists and clients in therapy
and is very difficult to erase. I agree with White
(1995:168) when he says: I have an ethical commitment to
bring forth the extent to which the process of therapy is a
two-way process, and to try to find ways of identifying,
acknowledging, and articulating the extent to which the
therapeutic interactions are actually shaping of the work
itself, and also shaping of my life more generally in
positive ways. For this reason, I repeatedly asked
the client services manager and the training officer to
reflect with officers involved in the study on their
participation as well as on the effects my race and gender
could be having on the process. The white officers' remarks
were as follows: The therapeutic session that Jo
conducted on individual and group levels have had the
following outcomes: It has raised the awareness of members
to get in touch with their own emotions. It has given
members an understanding of secondary
traumatisation. It has highlighted the growing
awareness that there is a massive management problem in the
SAPS. The structural problem affects the members at the
ground level. It made us feel that someone out
there cares and wants to write our story and give
desperately needed counseling. We are still in the process of
rebuilding but the therapy has helped us to move along the
journey at a faster pace, with more passion, compassion and
emotional strength. The black officers' comments about
the groups, and the individual counselling sessions were as
follows: We developed respect for each
other. The counselling helped me a
lot. It gave me hope. It has highlighted the importance
of respect. The sessions helped with secondary
traumatic stress and with sorting out of racial and
personality clashes. It helped us to talk about racism
and gave us confidence to speak out. I wonder whether, if I had had a
black partner co-constructing this therapy-as-research
process, we would have been more accessible to the black
officers and whether more black officers would have been
willing to participate in the group sessions. During
individual conversations the black officers participated
willingly, but only one or two black officers intermittently
attended the group sessions, despite open invitations to
officers from all races. The reasons the black officers gave
the client services manager, the training manager and myself
for not attending group sessions were sometimes vague and
varied, but they mostly attributed their absences to time
constraints and work pressures. Reflecting back, I wonder
whether their absence could have been due to the fact that
the groups were mostly made up of 'first floor' white
managers and that the black officers may have felt
uncomfortable or silenced by the hierarchical power
imbalances in the group (see Chapter Four, Section 4.10.1).
I also started wondering whether the black officers might
have felt that the contents of our discussions were
irrelevant to their working situation. Accountable practice
meant staying constantly aware of the ethical
responsibilities I had towards the police officers, the
community and the work I was involved in. Drawing on my psychiatric
knowledges, there were many occasions when I became
concerned about the welfare and emotional well-being of
officers who consulted me. Whenever I became concerned about
their personal safety, I opened up the discussion, for
example, regarding the officer's thoughts around suicide,
family violence and assault, to negotiate various
alternative possibilities of care the officer(s) would find
acceptable. I always asked the officers whom they would like
me to contact and what information I should make available,
if any. At times it became necessary to negotiate with
officers to hand in their service pistols, to make
arrangements for in-patient care or stop a cycle of violence
by negotiating ways in which officers could avoid an
explosive situation. This was not intended as an attempt at
being prescriptive or controlling, but as a way of inviting
the officers to take responsibility for their physical and
emotional health and helping them to resist invitations to
violence and other forms of abuses. All the officers I
approached in this manner agreed either to hand in their
firearms, make an appointment with a specialist or present
themselves for in-patient psychiatric care. In this way, I
tried to remain accountable towards the officers, their
colleagues, their families and their community, as well as
my own worldview and values. 5.3.2.2 Consent I obtained consent from the station
commissioner and the client services manager to conduct the
research while providing a therapy service to the officers.
Every officer who consulted me did so voluntarily and with
full knowledge that he/she was participating not only in a
therapeutic journey, but also in a research project. All the
participating officers signed a consent form (see Appendix
D) on which they indicated how they wanted their identities
to be protected. The consent form provided a space for them
to choose their own pseudonym, and to indicate whether they
were prepared to participate in the research project or
wished to only join in for the therapeutic value of the
conversations. One or two of the officers agreed to therapy
but did not want to participate in the research project. I
respected this choice and refrained from including any of
the content from their conversations in the research story.
I asked the participants' consent to take notes during our
conversations, and to record conversations on audiotape at
times. I also asked permission to use their own words for
the purposes of the study, and made my notes and letters of
summary available to all the participants for their
reflections. They were invited to make changes and edit the
summaries and letters when they felt my words did not
accurately reflect their words, feelings, experiences or
meaning. I asked their consent to share some of the content
of our sessions with my supervisor, and to share her
comments with them. The officers and I experienced my
supervisor's invisible participation as comforting, knowing
that somebody outside the police station could reflect on
our process from a different perspective. By maintaining a
curious and 'not-knowing' questioning stance I tried to
encourage honesty and admitted to 'not-knowing' the answers
to their problems and to a need for us to co-construct such
answers. We agreed to keep the name and location of the
police station anonymous, and that the officers' real names
would not be mentioned. The officers corrected mistakes I
had inadvertently made, and consented to my using the
content of the therapy letters for the purposes of this
study. 5.3.2.3 Sharing power and
knowledge Based on my postmodern and feminist
theological belief system, I sought ways in which I could
question power/knowledge and patriarchal discourses from a
narrative pastoral position. In the police service, there is
a very strong hierarchical system, prescribing 'what is
spoken and who may speak' (Foucault 1980:61). Power/knowledge discourses were
deconstructed in a group context, as it was vitally
important for group members to feel safe in a
therapy-as-research context, despite the presence of some of
their superior officers in the groups, cultural diversity,
gender and age differences. Accountability and transparency
aided power-sharing and trust. The ethics of narrative
therapy imply that all the group members may speak for
themselves, instead of their superiors speaking on their
behalf. During an informal conversation, outside the group,
a young, black officer told me how difficult he had found
speaking out in the group. He said he had been brought up to
respect his elders and his superiors and that he found the
group conversations foreign to him (see Chapter Four,
Section 4.10.1). Recognition of his cultural beliefs and
value system encouraged him to voice his opinions as trust
developed between him and senior officers in the group. Fear
of retribution also prevented officers from speaking
honestly and openly at times, and a culture of silence had
to be deconstructed in group conversations in order for all
the members to feel that their knowledges were important,
listened to and valued. 5.3.2.4 Transparency and
trust Social construction discourse holds
that knowledge is socially constructed through language. I
entered into therapeutic relationships with police officers
from the point of view that all people are socially
constructed by different oppressive discourses. Gergen
(1985:270) said that knowledge is something that people
co-construct, and in this therapy-as-research project, I
tried to remain constantly aware that we were in a
collaborative, participative process. This process changed
me as it challenged my own racism and also challenged me
take responsibility for my own attitudes and the effect
racism had and continues to have on people. Collaboration and participation
deconstructed the power variables between us. My position as
postmodern feminist as well as the ethical stance of
narrative pastoral therapy guided me constantly to reflect,
as transparently as possible, on my practice. Being
transparent meant being honest about the purposes,
intentions and process of the therapy-as-research project. A
transparent stance made it possible for me to enter into
this relationship as a partner and colleague, because it
liberated me from playing the role of the 'expert' with all
the answers. I could honestly tell the members that I did
not have certain knowledges, choosing to rely on their
expertise and experience to clarify situations from their
experience. By declining invitations to be placed in the
expert position, I did not enforce discourses that
maintained cultural dominance, but instead concentrated on
deconstructing problems and unmasking dominant discourses
such as Stress and Racism. As a member of a dominant
cultural group I believe that I have a responsibility
towards the police officers and the community I belong to,
to challenge dominant discourses whilst remaining aware of
the ways in which I was formed, informed and privileged by
cultural dominance. I tried to make visible or undo the
dominant cultural discourses that had shaped me as therapist
in consultation with officers of all races. This assisted me
in refraining from making assumptions on the basis of my
position as a white, Afrikaans-speaking, married woman.
I joined officers in their world,
working with them, learning about their lives as policemen
and -women from them. I used questioning and deconstructive
listening instead of offering advice, interpreting actions
or prescribing plans of action. This stance challenged my
previous nursing training, in which advice, suggestions and
prescriptive plans were part of my role as health educator.
In this study, I did not offer 'health education' and did
not make decisions on the behalf of officers but rather used
deconstructive questions to assist them in making their own
decisions. I valued their opinions and choices, and
consciously chose to position the participating police
officers at the centre of the therapy and research. I
checked with the officers whether they considered the
content of the conversations relevant, whether we were
talking about the issues they wanted to talk about, and
whether they felt satisfied with the process we were
involved in. Whenever officers felt that we had lost touch
with their needs in the conversation, we re-visited their
preferences and re-introduced them into the conversations.
I explained my role as participant
and co-researcher to the officers. If an officer asked me
what I would have done in a similar situation, I reverted to
narrative pastoral practices such as deconstructive
questioning, externalising the problem, inviting his/her
opinion, thereby assisting officers in making choices about
their own lives. When and where it was necessary, I tried to
challenge oppressive discourses. The officers told me that
they experienced narrative pastoral practices of
transparency as empowering and enabling, strengthening their
voices and positions in the therapy-as-research process. I
shared comments from the academic process and supervision
with them throughout the study. I made a copy of the final
draft available to the officers who participated in the
process, and invited and valued their comments and
reflections. The values I embrace as a narrative
pastoral therapist privilege accountability, respect and
transparency in practice. My beliefs and values invite me to
join with the client in the struggle against oppressive
problems, but also challenges me to name the injustices and
oppressive practices that are maintained by larger societal
discourses like Stress and Racism. This research report is
my way of being publicly accountable for the work and the
research that I do. 5.4 COLLECTING STORIES AND
CHALLENGING DOMINANT DISCOURSES The therapeutic service I offered
to the police officers at this police station is based on
narrative pastoral therapy. This included crisis
intervention, critical incident debriefing, individual and
group therapy, as well as referrals to specialists when the
officer in question agreed to specialist care. The data used
in this study came to me in the form of the stories the
officers shared with me. They shared their stories of
personal struggles, professional frustrations, painful and
traumatic experiences with me during individual and group
conversations. However, working as a narrative
pastoral therapist prohibited me from ignoring or condoning
invisible, dominant discourses which were maintained and
which increased the problems of interpersonal conflict,
racism, violence, alcohol abuse, verbal abuse and homophobia
that were troubling the officers. Poling (1996:103) said:
I am suggesting we make a reversal
in our usual understanding of power by emphasizing the
hermeneutical priority of the oppressed and by questioning
the legitimacy of dominant powers. I want to counter the way
in which evil ideologies maintain their power and corporate
spirituality. Like Poling, I feel myself
ethically bound by my values and belief system to challenge
these discourses as an intrinsic part of the
therapy-as-research. It was a constant struggle and a
painful challenge, but an important part of my prophetic
role as pastoral therapist. Stress and Racism were the most
dominant discourses promoting interpersonal abuse and
conflict, maintaining the problems between the officers
working at this police station (see Chapters Three and
Four). During individual and group conversations, the
destructive effects of conflict, physical violence, verbal
abuse, alcohol abuse and homophobia were named and
challenged, inviting officers to take responsibility for
their personal contribution to the violence in our society
by means of violent actions. Challenging dominant
discourses, extending invitations of responsibility to
recognise different forms of violence and disrespect, and
re-authoring preferred non-violent ways of being assisted
the officers in making small attitudinal shifts towards a
more respectful world view in a context where Stress and
Racism had previously dictated their behaviour. The
participating officers told me how the attitudinal shifts
they had individually made away from Racism and Stress had a
positive effect on their interpersonal relationships at home
and at work. It was my responsibility to 'do hope'
(Weingarten 2000c:22) with the officers. 5.4.1 Conflict Interpersonal conflict between
shift members frequently affected the relationships among
the rest of the shift members, and often resulted in
unprofessional and disrespectful service to the community
and complaints against police officers. Racist ideology and
internalised oppression frequently fuelled interpersonal
conflict. The strong work ethic that characterised some of
the Afrikaans officers' work behaviour became the measure
against which all the officers' work performance was
measured. Black officers, officers suffering from secondary
traumatic stress conditions and officers who were unable to
read or write, were called 'lazy', 'dumb', 'disinterested'
and 'useless' by their colleagues, resulting in stereotyping
and division between the races. Facilitating conversations
aimed at conflict resolution were often hair-raising
experiences due to the unbridled anger with which officers
responded to these problems. Narrative therapy practices of
externalising the problem and relative influence questions
(Morgan 2000:34) were ways in which the officers and I
reduced the intensity of this anger. Using relative
influence questions (see Chapter Two, Section 2.4.2) helped
us to trace the history of the problem, allowing the
officers and me to qualify the actual size of the problem.
The use of such questions is clearly illustrated in a short
example of a conversation between a shift commander and one
of the younger, white officers: Shift commander: This man never
listens to me! White officer: That's not true. I
am a dedicated police officer and I am good at my job. He
cannot say that about me. Therapist: Shift commander, when
you said he 'never' listens to you, I wondered if you could
recall even one occasion of working together when this
officer did listen to you? If you can recall such an
incident, would you please share the details of that
incident with us please? If we could quantify this problem,
how many marks out of ten would you allocate to this
officer's listening to you? Does he listen to you nine out
of ten times, or would you rather say that he listens to you
five or four out of ten times? Or would you prefer to
allocate a different mark out of ten to his listening to
you? Problems usually speak in
totalising terms, convincing feuding officers that they have
'never' been able to work together without conflict. I
recall another incident when a black shift commander and a
white junior officer were at loggerheads with one another. I
asked them: 'How many days in the past month have the two of
you worked together without racism interfering in your
relationship?' The white officer replied in 'problemspeak':
'never'. His black shift commander remembered several
occasions where the two of them had managed to work through
a whole shift without conflict. It helped to invite them to
consider the influence of the problem with numbers, for
example, how many days, for how long on a shift, or as a
percentage of the time, they work without the problem
surfacing. I found the use of relative influence questions
very helpful as it helped us to identify moments of lesser
and greater influence. Once we had deconstructed the
totalising language preferred by problems, it became
possible for the alternative, preferred story to emerge.
Times when the conflict had less or no influence were
usually times when the officers managed to resist the
problem. Recognising such times led to an exploration of the
officers' skills and competencies at the time of resistance.
Relative influence questions helped everybody concerned to
expose some of the problems' tactics and these types of
questions were extremely helpful in placing the problems in
the broader context of social discourses. 5.4.2 Alcohol Abuse, 'The Tough
Guy', homophobia and liberating spiritual talk The way in which policewomen and I
deconstructed Alcohol Abuse, 'The Tough Guy Subculture' and
homophobia is described fully in Chapter Three (see Sections
3.6.2 and 3.6.3). However, these discourses affected many of
the officers' lives, irrespective of gender, age or
race. In line with my feminist beliefs,
which privilege the voices of women, children, the elderly
and the oppressed, challenging the destructive effects of
these debilitating discourses on the lives of the police
officers formed an integral part of the therapy-as-research.
Alcohol abuse, 'the tough guy' and homophobia separately and
jointly dictated to the policemen and -women their version
of the 'correct' way to behave. These discourses kept Stress
alive in the lives of these people, resulting in decreased
performance delivery, conflict-ridden interpersonal
relationships both at home and at work, and psychiatric
in-patient admissions. These discourses also called into
question their preferred ways of being men, women and law
enforcement officers, as well as their relationships with
God. Discourse deconstruction helped to
liberate two policewomen from punitive and restrictive
religious beliefs (see Chapter Three, Sections 3.6.2 and
3.6.3). I tried to make these discourses visible in a
respectful manner, valuing these most intimate and sacred
conversations that came to me during the therapy-as-research
process. It was important to the officers that they could
tell and re-story the spiritual talk that contributed to
strengthening the problems' stories of their lives (Andrews
& Kotzé 2000:334). The challenge for me as a
narrative pastoral therapist was to deconstruct (White
1991:21-40) these 'truths' for the officers to discover a
liberating and enabling spiritual talk, while remaining
respectful and honouring of belief systems that were
different to my own. My own spirituality became a part
of the reflecting process, making connectedness possible and
preventing our spiritual talk from becoming sterile (Andrews
& Kotzé 2000:334). I started wondering how the
spiritual stories people bring to therapy touch and move me,
and what it was about their stories that touched me so
deeply. I also started wondering about some dominant ideas I
hold about spirituality that could restrict my listening to
people's spiritual talk. Griffith and Griffith (1993:6)
explain how spirituality could open up spaces for new
self-narratives and therefore have a healing effect on
people. Liberated and liberating spiritual talk, free of
fundamentalism or essentialism can be a valuable source of
personal agency in situations where power has been abused
(Andrews & Kotzé 2000:333). 5.4.3 Power abuse Power abuse, common at this police
station, takes many forms. It ranges from abusing privilege,
to an abuse of power by superior officers. In Chapter Four
(Section 4.9.3.2), I related the story in which the transfer
of a white officer was speedily approved, but angered a
black officer who had previously unsuccessfully applied for
transfers. The black officer immediately recognised white
privilege in the situation and accused the station
commissioner of racism. This divided the officers into
racial camps and hampered the co-operation, solidarity and
unity that there should be between shift members working
together. During our group conversations, all
group members were also invited to challenge such dominant
discourses. The officers gradually followed the example set
by the client services manager and the captain in discussing
with other shift members and other officers practices that
increased stress, racism and forms of violence. Their small,
tentative steps of resistance against abusive practices
gradually became bolder and more confident. During one of
our group sessions, the group decided on their preferred
ways of being professional police officers (see Chapter
Three, Section 3.7) and agreed to set various visible
examples of physical fitness, professional appearance, good
work ethic and respectful interactions with
colleagues. The police officers' attitudinal
changes, which occurred during the therapy-as-research
process are very difficult to describe in purely behavioural
terms, as they also reflected changes in their previously
held values and belief systems. These changes reflected a
positive attitude of hope for the future. I became aware of
small gestures of resistance to problem discourses, visible
for example in a friendlier facial expression here, and a
hearty handshake between officers from different races
there, shared jokes to relieve a tense situation and a
greater degree of social interaction between the
officers. Some changes were more noticeable,
for example, the structural changes the officers made to the
police station when they refurbished it, turning their work
environment from a 'pigsty' into a clean, functional and
safe area. This affected all the officers positively, as it
was more pleasant to work in a clean and attractive area,
and reflected a sense of professionalism to the community
they served. The group members wore their uniforms with
pride and looked very professional when they came on duty,
in sharp contrast to their previous appearance, which they
themselves described as slovenly. They also recognised a
need for spiritual sustenance and arranged a weekly prayer
meeting, open to all the officers at the station.
The government's policies regarding
equity were introduced and implemented during the time when
this study was in progress. At the conclusion of this study,
all four the shifts were managed by black police officers,
the domestic violence response unit was excellently managed
by a team of policemen and -women from different races and
promotions from within were a reality for the junior
officers. Station management are making a valiant attempt at
changing their management style from an autocratic to a
participative management style, by inviting and listening to
the voices of the previously silenced and the marginalised:
policewomen, gay and lesbian officers and officers of
colour. Moreover, station management started acting on the
information these previously marginalised police officers
provided. Challenging punitive discourses in
the therapy-as-research process taught me that, when South
Africans of all races are able to face our painful history,
they are able to overcome the racial divide it has left in
its wake and connect with one another on a human
level. Cochrane et al (1991:27) said the
following: Ministry may be conceived of as
unrelated directly to its social context insofar as pastoral
care of individuals may raise issues arising from their
social location.
But seldom does the minister, or
anyone with responsibility in a parish, attempt to
understand the conditioning of their ministry by the social
context
Many studies and countless
experiences demonstrate that ministries 'neutral' to their
political environment are latently shaped by social forces
and movements, albeit usually of a conserving or reactionary
kind. There is a 'hidden' set of perceptions and attitudes
which are socially determined, and these affect quite
directly perceptions of ministry, of theology, of doctrine,
[and] of pastoral practice
I decided to accept the challenge
posed to pastors by these authors. I felt that it was
imperative for me as pastoral therapist to refrain from the
obscurity of political neutrality in my practice.
5.5 THE RESEARCH: SOME
REFLECTIONS Reflecting on the past eighteen
months of the project with the police officers feels a lot
like paging through a photo album. It means remembering
special moments of sadness, frustration, happiness, anger,
hopelessness, as well as my utopian determination not to
surrender to danger or fear and to continue my attempts at
making a difference in their lives. I am reminded of the way
in which I was 'checked over' initially, and how the
relationships between the officers and myself gradually grew
in mutual trust. I am reminded of the initial distrust in
the officers' eyes, their expectations that I could and
would 'fix' problems from an expert position, and the hard
work it took for us all to explore our similarities instead
of being divided by our differences. The realisation that
there is strength in diversity found a concrete form when
policemen and -women from different races went on patrol
together (see Chapter Four, Section 4.10.5). This stands out
for me as a special moment on this journey. I commit to
memory the small steps the officers and I took away from
Stress and Racism, towards solidarity and a better
understanding of our differences and similarities.
I am also reminded of the
pervasiveness of the dominant discourses of Stress and
Racism that far exceed the time constraints imposed by a
masters' dissertation, one therapist-researcher and the
research-as-therapy process. It is a call, from small
beginnings, to other researchers to commit time and energy
to research projects that address the abuse of power in all
its forms in the police service. 5.5.1 Reflecting on the usefulness
and limitations of a qualitative research
paradigm I found the qualitative research
paradigm in a postmodern context useful in the context of
this study, as qualitative ways of working fitted
comfortably with the narrative pastoral therapy approach.
The qualitative paradigm foregrounds the spoken and written
words of the officers, while opening space for a dialogue
between the therapy and the research process. It also
facilitated the naming of the injustices inherited from
dominant cultural discourses, the entering into a process of
challenging these problematic discourses, and the discovery
of preferred ways of being in the world for the police
officers and myself. It made power sharing between myself as
therapist-researcher and the officers as client-participants
possible in order for us to re-construct meaning in a
collaborative process of co-research. The limitations of this study can
be attributed mainly to the space and time constraints
imposed by the scope of a masters' study. Although
approximately eighty percent of the officers on shifts
participated in one way or another it was not possible to
make the same service available to the detectives or the
crime prevention unit, who are exposed to similar stressors
to those that the shift members face daily. The level of
crisis and the number of emergency situations that
constitute life at that police station complicated planning
and therapeutic conversations, as groups and even individual
sessions had to be cancelled or changed at the last minute.
Initial plans, for example, running a series of workshops
along the lines of Denborough's (1996:108) work, had to be
abandoned. Such an approach would have placed too much
pressure on already stretched service delivery if a group of
officers were regularly withdrawn from the police station.
5.5.2 The self of the
therapist-researcher Reinharz (1992:194) suggests that
'learning should occur on three levels in any research
project: the levels of person, problems and method. By this
I meant that the researcher would learn about herself, about
the subject matter under study, and about how to conduct
research'. Pastoral narrative therapy opened
up new possibilities for me to become other than the person
I was (Wylie 1994). I have to report that I was profoundly
changed by what I learned about myself. The research
provided me with a broader, more culturally sensitive
worldview, which was respectful of but curious about
difference. I became sensitive to discourses and aware of
the social construction of meaning through language. I
became aware of the privileged position I have inherited as
a white South African woman, the need for narrative pastoral
therapists to effect social change and the responsibility of
all South Africans to work towards an ethical country for
all. My exposure to feminist theories and liberation
theology made visible the needs of the marginalised in
society and called on me to challenge the invisible dominant
discourses that keep people captive to meet my objectives as
part of being a prophetic, pastoral therapist (Gerkin
1991:71). Prophetic pastoral practice entails speaking out
against the disintegration of norms within the church, but
also within society at large. Brueggemann (in Gerkin
1991:71) agrees: The task of prophetic ministry is
to nurture, nourish and evoke a consciousness and perception
alternative to the consciousness and perception of the
dominant culture around us. In terms of my research, I had to
become an insider in and with the police station in order to
fulfil my prophetic role. This meant literally becoming a
part of the world of the police officers who participated in
the study. It meant going out with them on calls and
learning about their lives while they were living their
experience. It meant compassion and care in the face of
distrust and despair. It also meant experiencing the effects
of political transformations, power differences and
interpersonal conflicts with the police officers. This work
changed my worldview, and encouraged the harsh recognition
of my own shortcomings. It was particularly painful for me
to take ownership of the problems that were a result of
racism and stress. Gerkin (1991:71) maintains
that:
prophetic ministry must
therefore be attuned to the transformations of life that God
is bringing about. Its purpose is oriented to the creation
of that new reality, not simply the preservation of the old.
Prophetic ministry keeps before it a vision of the possible
toward which God is actively calling God's
people. I recovered my political voice,
which had been silenced so many years ago, while encouraging
the officers to generate their own preferred stories as part
of healing. Many feminist researchers are
profoundly changed by research. These changes may involve
completely revising one's world-view, the difficult
recognition of one's shortcomings, or discovering that the
research is sustaining their lives (Reinharz 1992:195).
The officers also found it very
painful to face the harsh realities of racism, to face their
defensiveness about it and to decide to change their
world-views. Some officers will never change their minds and
remain coccooned in racist discourse, while others have
managed to facilitate a shift in their ideologies to create
space for better interpersonal relationships with more
understanding and tolerance between people from different
races. 5.5.3 Reflecting on the theoretical
underpinnings of this study A postmodern, feminist and social
constructionist epistemology helped me in my task to conduct
therapy-as-research. This epistemology held up the mirror to
my own complicity, prejudice and institutionalised ways of
being in the world (Lowe 1991:41). Social construction
theory encouraged me to examine my belief systems,
constructions, choices and actions very carefully, because
it is central to the therapy that I consider the effects of
my own social constructions on the people who consult me. I
tried to understand the belief systems and values of the
officers who consulted me, by constantly inquiring about
them and as part of the therapeutic process, situating the
processes or social constructions that recruited them into
those beliefs in broader cultural discourses. It is difficult to separate
feminist theory from social construction theory, as they
share the central premise that language is constitutive of
reality. It was not the intention of this research project
to 'find something', but rather to co-construct meaning in a
reflexive process with the participants, while we were all
actively involved in a therapeutic process. Feminist
theology sensitised me to the role of gender and the
oppressed. In the police service, women are easily convinced
by patriarchal discourse and by male voices of authority. In
my work with policewomen, foregrounding their voices
encouraged them to re-author their stories. The
therapy-as-research provided support and courage to look
beyond the dominant cultural discourses and to begin
discover these women's preferred ways of being in their
personal and professional lives. Theology as a whole is involved
with a theory-praxis relation (Heitink 1999:170). I wanted
the therapy-as-research process to exceed pure, academic
research, and to raise awareness for the need for solidarity
against dominant cultural discourses, in the interest of
police officers and their community. This had consequences
for the participants and myself as the researcher, and for
the research method: The aim is not just an increase of
knowledge, but also a change in the oppressive situation of
those with whom the researchers have established a loose
bond. The usual academic rules, which demand an
objectivising distance, are given up. (Heitink 1999:175) Reflecting on the research process,
I recall it as being a struggle for all concerned. The fight
against stress and racism was painful for all of us. We
constantly had to remind one another of our small successes,
the 'sparkling moments' that we could show the world as
exceptions to the problem-saturated story of Stress and
Racism. 5.6 REFLECTING ON THE PROCESS OF
DATA CONSTRUCTION Data construction for this study
flowed from the therapeutic process during which officers
brought their problem-saturated stories to therapy. Mostly,
the officers enjoyed being part of a story-telling process,
experiencing the re-authoring process as liberating and
empowering, as is evidenced by the following
remark: [Name of station] has
become a forerunner in the above mentioned areas
[working against stress and racism] and we are
together re-writing our future. You will forever be a part
of this and the lives we touch. Thank you for allowing us
this great privilege. Using story as metaphor was not a
hindrance, but a help to all who were part of this process.
Like Freedman and Combs (1996:15), I saw the advantage in
the narrative metaphor initially proposed by White and
Epston (1990:77). The story metaphor freed me from trying to
find solutions to problems, and instead, allowed me to
become interested in working with people to bring forth
'rich and thick descriptions (Morgan 2000:15) of alternative
stories that stood outside problem stories. We discovered that, as people began
to inhabit and live out these alternative stories, the
results went beyond solving problems. Within the new
stories, people could live out new self-images, new
possibilities for relationship, and new futures. (Freedman & Combs
1996:16) Using the story metaphor was also
liberating because it did not restrict us to formally
planned individual and group conversations. Re-authoring
became possible during short, informal or casual chats, in
the writing and reading of therapy letters, and during
telephone conversations between the officers and myself. The
story metaphor constructed the lenses through which we
started interpreting the world. It made possible the
continuous social construction of our social
realities. Multiple reflexive conversations
took place during the process of therapy-as-research.
Reflections took place between the officers amongst
themselves, the officers and myself as therapist-researcher,
the officers and police management, the therapy letters and
the officers, the management and myself, the group members
and other officers, my supervisor and the therapy letters,
an Indian narrative therapist and a white woman activist.
These reflections challenged my thinking and doing
throughout the study. This process of continuous reflexivity
constituted the journey towards more respectful interactions
between everybody concerned with this project. It ensured
that the ethical stance of narrative pastoral therapy was
honoured and that every participant was treated with
respect. 5.7 REFLECTING ON PRACTICAL
THEOLOGY AND PASTORAL THERAPY Every officer who became a part of
this project spontaneously brought his/her spirituality to
the conversations. It was impossible to ignore the effects
of their spiritual 'truths' on their thoughts, emotions and
behaviour. I believe that practical theology is a
theological theory of communicative acts (Wolfaardt 1993),
and that practical theology can make a contribution to the
transformation of society (Heitink 1999:175). The implications for me as pastoral
therapist-researcher was that I could be respectful of
diverse belief systems, while challenging the punitive and
restrictive spiritual discourses that blinded them to
alternatives that could result in more humane practices. I
believe that practical theology must play a role in
liberating people from dehumanising practices, which are
frequently maintained by dominant cultural discourses like
racism and stress. The white officers who adhered to
confessional theological approaches were isolated from and
ignorant of society's problems. They often failed to
recognise the contextual issues relevant to society today,
and frequently became defensive and angry when we broached
the subject of racism. These officers also quickly became
defensive when dominant spiritual discourses were
challenged. For example, one white officer refused to
continue with individual conversations with me because he
doubted the validity of my faith as it did not reflect the
fundamentalism of his belief system. The contextual approach to
practical theology, which is my preferred approach, offers
the therapist-researcher and the participants different
interpretations of the truth and created space for various
different ways of expression of the spiritual. As the
contextual approach advocates socially relevant change, this
study became a forum in which we named two of the evils that
directly affected the officers, namely, stress and
racism. The contextual approach created
space for the use of social constructionist epistemology for
this study, enabling the participants and myself to
co-construct communal knowledges with which we could
challenge problems. 5.8 RECOMMENDATIONS FOR FUTURE
RESEARCH I have reached the end of this
project by documenting our experiences in an academic paper.
However, this is a process that will never be completed, as
much more work needs to be done in South Africa to
deconstruct the effects of racism and stress on all of its
people. Conducting therapy-as-research (see
Chapter Two, Section 2.7) on stress and racism in the police
service was extremely challenging for me. The police service
is a very closed community and I consider myself privileged
that officers of all the races, men and women, were prepared
to talk to me about these problems. Stress and racism are
politically controversial, emotive topics. It was a constant
personal struggle for me not to lose hope in the face of
such deeply imbedded problems. I worked alongside the
officers, personally experiencing the day-to-day stresses
and strains of police work. I developed a deep compassion
for them from my glimpses of their ambitions, goals, fears,
despair and frustrations. At the same time, I had to
challenge certain racist practices that had become their
norm. Owning both the compassion and the ethical need to
challenge racist practices became my personal dilemma
throughout this study. Having come to this point in the
therapy-as-research journey, I have 'come to new forms of
forgiveness, healing, and shared action for justice. I can
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VILJOEN
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