Why are we arming the British Transport Police?

No good reasons or good evidence have been disclosed.

When the government announced that the British Transport Police were going to gain "armed capability" it all seemed rather depressing.

In part, this adverse reaction was because the steady creep of arming civilian police officers was now almost complete, as the BTP is effectively the last police force without its own armed officers; in part, it was because of the memories of the killing of Jean Charles de Menezes at Stockwell Tube Station; and in part, it was because of the truth universally acknowledged that any uniformed person at a train station will invariably lack any common sense.

Accordingly, it was not news that was immediately encouraging, and it certainly was not something that made one feel safer.

However, one must put aside prejudices and see if such a significant development was needed.

One would think that there would be good reason for arming the BTP; that it must have been a thought through process.

Let's start with the ministerial statement, which reads:

The Government is committed to the security of the country and as such keeps our capabilities under constant review. As part of this, I am today announcing, with the agreement of my Right Honourable Friend the Home Secretary, that the security of the railways and London Underground will be further enhanced by the development of a British Transport Police (BTP) armed capability that will be deployed as appropriate in response to the terrorism threat level at any given time.

The Government has been considering the resilience of the overall police armed capability and has concluded that it would be beneficial to enhance this by providing the BTP with an armed capability of its own. The timing of this is not as a result of any specific threat: it is a sensible and pragmatic approach to ensuring that our police forces have the right resources to be able to respond as and when needed to protect the public.

By sanctioning the development of this armed capability, we will reduce the burden on other police forces which currently provide armed support to the BTP. This is not a major new capability in terms of overall armed policing, but by training BTP officers to carry out armed patrolling of the rail network it equips BTP with a capability already available to other police forces. Armed patrols will be deployed according to operational need - it will not be a daily event to see armed officers at stations.

We will continue to work with the BTP and others to assess the use of this capability and its effectiveness and impact. I would like to reassure Parliament that this is a measured and proportionate approach to supporting the BTP in maintaining public safety on the railway.

So it would appear that it is indeed for good reason: "considering the resilience of the overall police armed capability....beneficial to enhance this by providing the BTP with an armed capability of its own... a sensible and pragmatic approach... reduce the burden on other police forces... I would like to reassure Parliament that this is a measured and proportionate approach to supporting the BTP in maintaining public safety on the railway."

I asked the BTP how much this would cost:

£1.5m including procurement / training, ongoing costs are approximately £300,000 a year.

This is a significant amount, at least at a time of substantial budget cuts across central government.

One would thereby expect that the costs of the current practice of using armed officers as necessary from other police forces would have been costed. After all, the Minister had said that it was important to "reduce the burden on other police forces". I asked the BTP how much the current practice cost them:

Armed officers from other forces regularly respond to incidents on behalf of BTP. There is no cost to BTP.

Fair enough, I thought. Perhaps it is a cost for other police forces, and not the BTP. But at least the BTP could tell me how often they do call upon armed officers from other forces over the last few years.

BTP does not have this information immediately available.

This was astonishing.

I even waited a day or two to see if they could find out. One would think that given an expensive procurement exercise, and the wider public interest in arming the police, someone at the BTP would know.

But it would seem not: nobody appeared to have this information.

However, the BTP were going to arm their police and commit to a lengthy procurement exercise anyway.

I also asked about the evidence behind some of the other contentions which had been made for arming the BTP. For example, why was it contended that the sight of armed BTP officers would "reassure the public"? What particular evidence is there for this contention?

The primary purpose is to increase resilience, improve response and deter potential terrorists. We hope that the public will feel that everything is being done to ensure their safety and security, but we are very aware of the danger of alarming rather than reassuring them. The policing style will be important and we will be endeavouring to integrate armed patrols into normal policing.

So there was a "hope" but no evidence.

What about the contention that the officers will be "an added deterrent to potential terrorists"? What particular evidence was there for this contention?

The deployment of armed officers at vulnerable locations - whether that be airports or other potential targets for terrorism is a well established response to threat.

Again, no evidence.

Importantly, the ministerial statement does not pretend that there is any specific threat to which this is a response. On closer examination the sequence of bureaucratic assertions in the rest of the ministerial statement do not appear to have any real meaning either.

All that has happened is that the BTP have taken upon themselves to ask to be armed, and at significant expense, even though they seem to have no idea how often armed assistance as ever been required in the last few years. They can only "hope" that we will be reassured.

I asked the Department of Transport for whether armed police would become as common a sight at train stations as they are at airports. Their answer:

These will be operational decisions taken by the BTP.

But as BTP stated:

Armed patrols at transport locations are not new. They are seen daily at airports throughout the UK. The deployment of highly visible armed officers is a nationally recognised operational tactic designed to provide deterrence, immediate response and reassurance.

I also asked the Department of Transport whether this cross government policy was imposed on the BTP. No, it simply came from the BTP:

Last December the BTP submitted a request to the Government for approval to strengthen their resources with an armed capability. These proposals have been carefully considered across Government before this decision was taken.

The BTP had deployed the resource argument:

Until now, armed patrols have been provided by geographic forces, which in itself is a drain on specialist resource which is under increasing demand, particularly at times when threat is heightened or specific intelligence exists. As a result of this pressure on existing resources it has been agreed that there is a need to increase the number of officers available to provide armed patrols when required.

However, as we have seen, the BTP do not seem to know the extent of this "drain" and "increasing demand". And one rather suspects the Department of Transport do not know either, and has just accepted the BTP's word for it.

So we have more armed police, and at more expense, but not in respect of any specific threat or for any apparent operational need. It may well be that there is good reason and good evidence; but this has not been disclosed.

As it is, the introduction of armed officers at the BTP is consistent with them casually wanting to have an armed unit, and the Department of Transport just as casually nodding it through. Soon, just as casually, we will undoubtedly get used to armed police at train stations and boarding trains.

And then, one day, someone will get shot.

 

David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman

David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman and author of the Jack of Kent blog.

His legal journalism has included popularising the Simon Singh libel case and discrediting the Julian Assange myths about his extradition case.  His uncovering of the Nightjack email hack by the Times was described as "masterly analysis" by Lord Justice Leveson.

David is also a solicitor and was successful in the "Twitterjoketrial" appeal at the High Court.

(Nothing on this blog constitutes legal advice.)

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Find the EU renegotiation demands dull? Me too – but they are important

It's an old trick: smother anything in enough jargon and you can avoid being held accountable for it.

I don’t know about you, but I found the details of Britain’s European Union renegotiation demands quite hard to read. Literally. My eye kept gliding past them, in an endless quest for something more interesting in the paragraph ahead. It was as if the word “subsidiarity” had been smeared in grease. I haven’t felt tedium quite like this since I read The Lord of the Rings and found I slid straight past anything written in italics, reasoning that it was probably another interminable Elvish poem. (“The wind was in his flowing hair/The foam about him shone;/Afar they saw him strong and fair/Go riding like a swan.”)

Anyone who writes about politics encounters this; I call it Subclause Syndrome. Smother anything in enough jargon, whirr enough footnotes into the air, and you have a very effective shield for protecting yourself from accountability – better even than gutting the Freedom of Information laws, although the government seems quite keen on that, too. No wonder so much of our political conversation ends up being about personality: if we can’t hope to master all the technicalities, the next best thing is to trust the person to whom we have delegated that job.

Anyway, after 15 cups of coffee, three ice-bucket challenges and a bottle of poppers I borrowed from a Tory MP, I finally made it through. I didn’t feel much more enlightened, though, because there were notable omissions – no mention, thankfully, of rolling back employment protections – and elsewhere there was a touching faith in the power of adding “language” to official documents.

One thing did stand out, however. For months, we have been told that it is a terrible problem that migrants from Europe are sending child benefit to their families back home. In future, the amount that can be claimed will start at zero and it will reach full whack only after four years of working in Britain. Even better, to reduce the alleged “pull factor” of our generous in-work benefits regime, the child benefit rate will be paid on a ratio calculated according to average wages in the home country.

What a waste of time. At the moment, only £30m in child benefit is sent out of the country each year: quite a large sum if you’re doing a whip round for a retirement gift for a colleague, but basically a rounding error in the Department for Work and Pensions budget.

Only 20,000 workers, and 34,000 children, are involved. And yet, apparently, this makes it worth introducing 28 different rates of child benefit to be administered by the DWP. We are given to understand that Iain Duncan Smith thinks this is barmy – and this is a man optimistic enough about his department’s computer systems to predict in 2013 that 4.46 million people would be claiming Universal Credit by now*.

David Cameron’s renegotiation package was comprised exclusively of what Doctor Who fans call handwavium – a magic substance with no obvious physical attributes, which nonetheless helpfully advances the plot. In this case, the renegotiation covers up the fact that the Prime Minister always wanted to argue to stay in Europe, but needed a handy fig leaf to do so.

Brace yourself for a sentence you might not read again in the New Statesman, but this makes me feel sorry for Chris Grayling. He and other Outers in the cabinet have to wait at least two weeks for Cameron to get the demands signed off; all the while, Cameron can subtly make the case for staying in Europe, while they are bound to keep quiet because of collective responsibility.

When that stricture lifts, the high-ranking Eurosceptics will at last be free to make the case they have been sitting on for years. I have three strong beliefs about what will happen next. First, that everyone confidently predicting a paralysing civil war in the Tory ranks is doing so more in hope than expectation. Some on the left feel that if Labour is going to be divided over Trident, it is only fair that the Tories be split down the middle, too. They forget that power, and patronage, are strong solvents: there has already been much muttering about low-level blackmail from the high command, with MPs warned about the dire influence of disloyalty on their career prospects.

Second, the Europe campaign will feature large doses of both sides solemnly advising the other that they need to make “a positive case”. This will be roundly ignored. The Remain team will run a fear campaign based on job losses, access to the single market and “losing our seat at the table”; Leave will run a fear campaign based on the steady advance of whatever collective noun for migrants sounds just the right side of racist. (Current favourite: “hordes”.)

Third, the number of Britons making a decision based on a complete understanding of the renegotiation, and the future terms of our membership, will be vanishingly small. It is simply impossible to read about subsidiarity for more than an hour without lapsing into a coma.

Yet, funnily enough, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Just as the absurd complexity of policy frees us to talk instead about character, so the onset of Subclause Syndrome in the EU debate will allow us to ask ourselves a more profound, defining question: what kind of country do we want Britain to be? Polling suggests that very few of us see ourselves as “European” rather than Scottish, or British, but are we a country that feels open and looks outwards, or one that thinks this is the best it’s going to get, and we need to protect what we have? That’s more vital than any subclause. l

* For those of you keeping score at home, Universal Credit is now allegedly going to be implemented by 2021. Incidentally, George Osborne has recently discovered that it’s a great source of handwavium; tax credit cuts have been postponed because UC will render such huge savings that they aren’t needed.

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.

This article first appeared in the 11 February 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The legacy of Europe's worst battle