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Narrative Therapy Dissertation
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DECONSTRUCTING SECONDARY TRAUMA AND RACISM AT A SOUTH AFRICAN POLICE SERVICE STATION |
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A Dissertation by JO VILJOEN |
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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 be a part of the communities of resistance in my own life, and thus defect from some of the ways I participate in evil' (Poling 1996:108-109). I believe that the task of organised religion and educational organisations in South Africa should be to speak out against racism and stress. Likewise, psychiatric clinics should address racism in their therapeutic programmes as part of the healing of this nation (see Chapter Four see Section 4.2). Pastoral therapists who are willing to engage in addressing political issues and are committed towards a more ethical society should be employed in the workplace, in businesses, and in government institutions to redress the power imbalances left by racism. Religious sermons and school curricula should include sensitisation and raising consciousness about racism. The silence that currently surrounds the topic only serves to maintain the problem and adds to its power over human relationships. As history teaches, it is only a short step from mental laziness to violence (Ikeda 1999:13).
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