Underlying this book, and running through it, is the notion that the police force was shaped by the community it served: the people of Victoria. It is an adaptation of the adage that the community gets the police it deserves. Some people may question this, on the grounds that the population of Victoria has never been homogeneous with one set of ideas, attitudes and influences. The diversity and conflicts within society are acknowledged, but that only makes it more true that the force is a force of the people. In different ways it has been influenced by the mosaic of interest groups that is the Victorian community. John Batman and members of the Port Phillip Association, Peter Lalor and the Ballarat miners, Francis Longmore and the Kelly Gang, Adela Pankhurst and the suffragettes, Sir Thomas Blamey and the Labor Party, Dr Jim Cairns and the Vietnam Moratorium Committee, and Dr Bertram Wainer and the Abortion Law Reform Association are just a sprinkling of the thousands of individuals and groups who have influenced the development of policing in Victoria. They have taken different forms, exerted their influence in a variety of ways, and often disagreed with the police and each other. However, the net result of debate and compromise has been a general shaping of the force by the community.
Successive generations of Victorians have collectively influenced the force in ways that have ensured it a significant level of public support and good will, and themselves a tolerable police service. There have been fluctuations in the levels of public good will and police acceptability, sometimes due to errant or outstanding police conduct, and often because the social standards, tolerances and expectations of different generations have varied. On many occasions police have enforced unpopular laws, or enforced acceptable laws in unpopular fashion; they have angered workers by appearing too ready to side with capital against labour; and at different times individual police officers or groups of them have aroused public indignation, concern and action by behaving corruptly, violently, dishonestly or ineptly, or by failing to meet some widely accepted standard of police conduct and performance. Nevertheless, the system of policing has generally worked for the people, not against them—although it has required community vigilance to ensure this.
It might be argued that ‘ordinary people’—those individuals without wealth or positions of power—have never been able to exert their will over the police force, but they have. Ordinary Victorians have played a key part in the process of government that has directed the force; they have given evidence at the many public inquiries into policing; they have made their opinions known through the media and in representations to politicians and police leaders; and, most strikingly, they have banded together in ways that have forced the police to change. On the Ballarat goldfield in 1854, and during the Kelly saga at the end of the 1870s, in the 1890s depression, the 1923 police strike and the moratorium marches of the 1970s, the collective will of ordinary people has changed the police force. Clearly, individual levels of influence have never been equal, and in many cases they have been negligible, but that is not the point under debate here. The central question is: has the police force autonomously determined the course of its development, or has it been decided outside, in the community?
Since 1836 almost every important decision and action on the development of policing in Victoria has come from beyond the force. The police have generally been a conservative, often reactionary group of public servants who, on low pay and under poor working conditions, have ambled along at the behest of the public. On a personal level, police officers—confident, large authority figures—might appear to have had the upper hand, but as a force they have generally been a slow, timid and erring bureaucracy, floundering or stultifying when left too long away from the gaze and influence of the community. Technology and world events have been important in determining the course of the force’s development, but its responses have often been made reluctantly, under external pressures. The motor car revolutionised policing, yet in the beginning it was shunned by policemen who had to be convinced of its permanence and potential. Photographs, forensic science, computers and aircraft were technological aids either that the force was relatively slow to adopt, or that met with resistance from sections of the force when introduced. Unless prodded by the community, police often failed to comprehend the international scale and social significance of such things as the unionisation of workers, the activities of suffragettes and women’s rights movements, and the spread of student protests and the peace movement. The most notable exceptions to this trend, and they were few, were the production of Barry’s Police Guide, the introduction of fingerprint analysis, the establishment of the Wireless Patrol, and a number of post-1970 policing initiatives, which were all the work of police and later sanctioned by the government.
The traditional and principal factor governing the activities of police has been the law, and from the beginning the force has worked within a framework of law that has regulated almost every aspect of its members’ duties. General criminal offences and procedures, unlawful conduct, and powers of arrest, search, seizure and prosecution have been decreed by law, and police themselves have always been subject to a Police Regulation Act covering such matters as appointments, dismissals, superannuation, tenure and misconduct. Police have always been individually liable at law for unlawful acts or actions committed in the course of their work and have been investigated, sued, charged, convicted, fined and gaoled for things they have done on duty. It is not hard to see why many police have been conservative, thinking in terms of duty, obedience and regulations. They have always been men and women under authority.
The source of law is the government, and from 1856 to 1994 the force worked under more than fifty parliaments and sixty separate ministries, each appointed ‘democratically’ and together spanning a broad spectrum of political labels and ideologies. The force has always been answerable to a ministerial head, traditionally the chief secretary but since 1978 the minister for police and emergency services; and until the establishment of the Police Classification Board in 1946, the government determined police wages, duties and conditions of service. The performance of the force has always been significantly affected by government policies, the level of government funding and interest, and the general ability of the government’s ministerial head and his or her colleagues. The abysmal performance of governments caused serious police unrest in the 1860s, then stagnation in the 1870s, and contributed substantially to the police strike in 1923. On the other hand, positive government action in the 1920s enabled Blamey to boost the force, and in the 1940s dramatically improved police morale and work conditions, averting serious industrial problems. It was unpopular laws or government policies that cast police into open conflict with sizeable sections of the community during such times as the gold era, the economic depressions of the 1890s and 1930s, and the Vietnam war period, and then resulted in changes to the force. From both sides—people in power, and other people demanding to be heard—pressures were put on the police, who were to some extent moulded by them.
One important aspect of the democratic process and an important forum for public debate has been the series of royal commissions and other inquiries that different governments have appointed to look into the force. There were more than twenty of these between 1839 and 2016, and most of them proved worthwhile. The 1852 Select Committee Inquiry was responsible for unifying the disparate police forces in Victoria and establishing the basic structure of the Victoria Police Force. The important royal commission appointed to inquire into the Kelly outbreak cleansed the force of some of its least efficient and more discreditable elements, and gave it new direction. Other inquiries brought about the resignation of Blamey, curbed Wren’s gambling empire, rid the force of corrupt police, and provided blueprints for change. More importantly, they gave hundreds of Victorians an opportunity to speak out and criticise the force in a constructive way, and opened the force to general scrutiny and debate. Even the Beach Inquiry, the end result of which was a farcical victory for an uncharacteristic police militancy, opened the workings of the force to close examination and increased public awareness. Most inquiries since 1839 showed individual police officers to be ineffective or guilty of wrongdoing, and highlighted the need to probe and prod the force as a whole, to make it publicly accountable and give it impetus and direction.
Police leaders, particularly the chief commissioners, bore a heavy responsibility for giving the force direction. Some gave it; some did not. When the force languished, as it often did, the community through the agency of government appointed individuals from outside the force to take charge and reorganise it. The periods of the force’s history most marked by important reforms, public approbation and high levels of police performance almost universally coincided with the commissionerships of ‘outsiders’. Steward, Gellibrand, Blamey, Duncan and Porter were all extremely capable administrators, appointed in the face of opposition from serving police and given the task of improving police performance. In its choice of these leaders the community vitally influenced the force and served itself well.
Other outside elements that have significantly affected the force are the news media and the legal profession. Victoria’s newspapers always provided extensive coverage of police matters, and proved particularly vigilant in bringing instances of corruption, misconduct and ineptitude to public notice. In the 1850s pressure from The Argus for a proper civil constabulary was a key factor leading to the formation of the Victoria Police Force, and since then newspapers have closely followed and helped determine the force’s fortunes. This fact was recognised by the establishment of formal links between police and media, culminating in the formation of a Press Liaison Bureau; and the importance of the media was well illustrated by the way in which newspapers contributed to the downfall of Chief Commissioner Blamey. A number of public inquiries, including the Longmore Royal Commission into the Kelly outbreak, the Monash Royal Commission into the police strike, and the Beach Inquiry, were preceded by extensive newspaper coverage of the relevant events and allegations. Although representative of different commercial and political interests, the various forms of news media have collectively served as a vital link between the police force and the community, and have displayed a distinct willingness to help keep police honest. The rapid rise of social media has introduced a new dimension and challenge to policing, and its impact is yet to be measured.
The role of the legal profession has not always been as overt as that of the press, but in many respects it has been as telling. Lawyers played a significant part in most of the inquiries into the force and proved adept at probing and exposing errant police behaviour. They also served to articulate the questions, concerns and allegations of ‘ordinary people’ in a way that often the people could not do themselves. It is arguable that lesser men than engineer Sir John Monash, Hugh Macindoe, William Kaye, Cairns Villeneuve-Smith, Barry Beach and Jack Rush would not have had the capacity or the fortitude to conduct complex and lengthy public inquiries into the actions of police. Lawyers and members of the judiciary also had the daily task of overseeing police behaviour in the courts, and they have often reprimanded, reported or taken action against police for improper actions. Mr Justice Mann’s denunciation of the police ‘third degree’ method was one instance of judicial comment that produced significant changes to criminal investigation procedures.
The degree to which the community has determined the course of police development might suggest that police officers were a rather ordinary bunch. In many respects they were. Throughout most of its existence, the force was largely comprised of individuals drawn from the working classes into one of the lowest strata in the public service, and paid and treated accordingly. Generally, police favoured the seniority system, with its hope of eventual promotion—and never mind about its inbuilt mediocrity. Mainly (though not always) they were reluctant to make trouble over wages or conditions of service. Their hours of work, leave, rest days and other benefits had a tendency to lag behind those of the general workforce and police in other states, and Victorian police have been housed in buildings declared unfit for human habitation. Often rough and needing to be tough, they were expected to work alone, confronting all manner of situations—including births, deaths and many of life’s events that fell between. Police work rarely attracted the genteel, wealthy, highly educated or faint-hearted. Had it so desired, the community could have developed a police force from such types, but it did not. Working-class men were cheaper and arguably more suited to the physical, outdoors and often onerous nature of police duty.
The ordinariness of the force might be seen as a retardant that limited its actual and potential growth. However, there were also benefits to be found in its ordinariness. It made the force heavily dependent upon community involvement, always a desirable element in policing. It kept the force ‘democratic’, in the sense of understanding ‘the people’, belonging to them and drawing its strength from them. The fact that police were neither autonomous nor progressive pace-setters meant that they did not dictate to the Victorian people the sort of police service there would be. K. S. Inglis concluded his book The Stuart Case by writing that, ‘The line from Australia to a police state is long. It is nevertheless continuous’.1
It would be equally true, and almost certainly more apt, to radically change that perspective. The line from Victoria to a police state is long—so long that it has never been properly surveyed, let alone made. It is so discontinuous, and leads in such an unaccustomed direction, that most police never think of trying to follow it. It is not their way. They are ordinary people, guided almost entirely by what is wanted by ordinary people and those people’s government. Police complain if they are not given the powers to do the work they are asked to do—but that is so far back along the track that arriving at a police state is not in their itinerary. Anyway, so far, the Victorian community has always managed, though in fits and starts, to move its police force in the directions chosen by majority opinion. It should continue to do so.
Yet many police over the years were far from being just ordinary. In different ways their individual achievements, ideas and bravery lifted them above the average, when judged not only alongside their colleagues but also by those standards used to measure personal achievement and courage in the general community. One hundred and fifty-nine police officers have been killed or have died on duty in a range of shootings, stabbings, drownings and accidents. All too often they have been quickly forgotten and no one knows precisely how many there were or how they all died. The murders of Joseph Delaney, George Howell, Bob Lane, Stephen Henry and others received sensational publicity, and these men are well remembered in a way that highlights a particular aspect of police work and the sacrifices it sometimes demands. Many others, however, died in more obscure yet nonetheless courageous circumstances, such as William Harnetty, who drowned while attempting to rescue flood-bound sheep at Bet Bet in 1956, and Constable William Benbow, who was killed at Richmond in 1971 when a building wall collapsed while he was trying to ensure the safety of others. In addition to those police who died on duty, hundreds of others have been commended for placing their own safety at risk to save or protect other people. Between 1874 and 2016, more than four hundred police officers received bravery awards that included the George Cross, George Medal, Queen’s Gallantry Medal, Royal Humane Society awards and Valour Award. Constable Michael Pratt received the George Cross after being shot and wounded while trying to prevent the escape of three criminals from the scene of a bank robbery. His award was the highest honour for bravery available to a civilian in Australia and was perhaps the most publicised.2 In many less-known cases police have endangered themselves to secure the safe return of hostages, rescue people from drowning, find others lost in the bush, evacuate those threatened by bushfires, prevent people from committing suicide, and apprehend armed and dangerous criminals or mentally disturbed persons. They were special feats accomplished by ordinary people; perhaps people like the man in the anonymous poem ‘I’m just a man like you’:
I have been where you fear to be
I have seen what you fear to see
I have done what you fear to do
All these things I have done for you.
I am the man you lean upon
The man you cast your scorn upon
The man you bring your troubles to
All these men I have been for you.
The man you ask to stand apart
The man you feel should have no heart
The man you call the man in blue
But I’m just a man, just like you.
And through the years, I’ve come to see
That I am not what you ask of me
So take this badge, take this gun
Will you take it?—Will anyone?
And when you watch a person die
And hear a battered baby cry
Then do you think that you can be
All these things that you ask of me?3