With Winsor's appointment, the Tories have declared war on the police

This is a highly provocative move.

The appointment of Tom Winsor as Chief Inspector of Constabulary can be boiled down to two areas of debate. First, there's the desire to distance Her Majesty's Inspectorate of Constabularies (HMIC) from the police force. Second, there's the way the government has chosen to do it.

On the first issue, the arguments have been played out across the media all day. The police will tell you that the man responsible for monitoring performance needs to understand the job, and for that reason, he needs to be drawn from the force. The counter-argument says that this leads to self-interested regulation - Nick Hardwick, the Chief Inspector of Prisons, has never run a prison, for example. The counter-counter argument runs that HMIC is less of a regulator because of the various police authorities: it's really there to make the force run more efficiently. And so on.

It would take more space than we have here to thrash all these issues out, and they're somewhat beside the point. Of five current inspectors of constabulary, two aren't police officers. Many serving police officers can see the merits of the various arguments: judging by their comments this morning, it's not really why the appointment frustrates them so much.

However the government sells it, Winsor is a deeply provocative choice. In fact "provocative" doesn't really cover it. Unless Jim Davidson's being lined up to head the Equality and Human Rights Commission you're unlikely to see a public appointment provoke this much anger any time soon. You can forgive a nervous Lynne Featherstone - who was attempting to talk about forced marriages at the time -  for her somewhat-less than wholehearted endorsement of Theresa May's decision ("I believe Theresa is probably, almost certainly, right") on Radio 4 this morning.

The police hate Winsor because of the reforms suggested by his report, and the suspicion that they were simply an expression of Conservative political will. The issues surrounding them are hugely complex. Take pay: you tell me you don't like the fact that the basic salary for a typical officer at entry level is nearly £2,000 more than a teacher. I tell you teachers don't have a job where people try to stab them, unless they're at a particularly rough school. You say the police overtime bill is enormous. I tell you teachers aren't expected to be called out to work at 3am.

This is before we get on to Brian Paddick and his massive pension. You don't like it. I point out that Paddick doesn't have the same opportunities for career progression as he would in, say the army, and given he was a bright graduate, never mind the rest of the public sector - the state needs to have something to attract him away from coining it in at Goldman Sachs or some other City hell-hole, and if you're the government what better way than by promising him a load of money further down the line once you're safely out of office?

So we go away from our discussion having reached the conclusion that politicians are disingenuous scumbags, which is pretty much the same conclusion the police have reached for different reasons. And these days they seem more likely to blog or tweet these views than the average Guardian journalist (one of the morning’s more interesting posts on the surrounding issues was published here).

This is an unusual state of affairs. The received thinking in Whitehall is that law and order is just such a big deal for voters that if there's one branch of the public sector you don't want to upset, it's the cops. The trouble is that there are now just too many strong emotions and vested interests at play to come to any kind of meaningful conclusion. Paul McKeever of The Police Federation says the appointment will lead to senior officers leaving the force. But then yesterday, McKeever essentially claimed the Federation predicted the 2011 riots, which given the way they played out suggests he’s either prone to getting overexcited or officers don't listen to him as often as they should.

This declaration of war - and it is just that; a fierce rebuttal to the heckling May received when she spoke to the Police Federation last month - marks an unprecedented worsening in the relationship between government and police. Many of us have plenty of time for the argument that the force needs reform - it has been left untouched for 30 years - and the furious reaction to the initial Winsor report showed exactly why this has been the case. The question, therefore, is whether the government really needed to rub salt in the wound. This morning, Nick Herbert told Radio 4: "In his report he showed how he is able to get under the skin of policing." He's certainly got that right. I can only agree with Matt Cavanagh of the Institute for Public Policy Research. It's a "risky if not reckless choice".
 
But we're not there yet. Winsor has yet to meet the Home Affairs Select Committee, and one member, Steve McCabe MP, has already said the appointment of Winsor would mean the government was seeking to "politicise and neuter the police". Keith Vaz MP found it regrettable "those without experience of the frontline have been instructed to draw up the plans for our police force" a precedent also frowned upon by the outgoing inspector, Sir Denis O'Connor. Vaz and McCabe are, of course, both Labour, and this is the problem: every decision Winsor makes - whether right or wrong - is likely to be seen through a political lens.

Alan White's work has appeared in the Observer, Times, Private Eye, The National & TLS. He lives in London and tweets as @aljwhite. As John Heale, he is the author of One Blood: Inside Britain's Gang Culture, republished this year.

The Home Secretary, Theresa May. Photograph: Getty Images

Alan White's work has appeared in the Observer, Times, Private Eye, The National and the TLS. As John Heale, he is the author of One Blood: Inside Britain's Gang Culture.

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"We repealed, then forgot": the long shadow of Section 28 homophobia

Why are deeply conservative views about the "promotion" of homosexuality still being reiterated to Scottish school pupils? 

Grim stories of LGBTI children being bullied in school are all too common. But one which emerged over the weekend garnered particular attention - because of the echoes of the infamous Section 28, nearly two decades after it was scrapped.

A 16-year-old pupil of a West Lothian school, who does not wish to be named, told Pink News that staff asked him to remove his small rainbow pride badge because, though they had "no problem" with his sexuality, it was not appropriate to "promote it" in school. It's a blast from the past - the rules against "promoting" homosexuality were repealed in 2000 in Scotland, but the long legacy of Section 28 seems hard to shake off. 

The local authority responsible said in a statement that non-school related badges are not permitted on uniforms, and says it is "committed to equal rights for LGBT people". 

The small badge depicted a rainbow-striped heart, which the pupil said he had brought back from the Edinburgh Pride march the previous weekend. He reportedly "no longer feels comfortable going to school", and said homophobia from staff members felt "much more scar[y] than when I encountered the same from other pupils". 

At a time when four Scottish party leaders are gay, and the new Westminster parliament included a record number of LGBTQ MPs, the political world is making progress in promoting equality. But education, it seems, has not kept up. According to research from LGBT rights campaigners Stonewall, 40 per cent of LGBT pupils across the UK reported being taught nothing about LGBT issues at school. Among trans students, 44 per cent said school staff didn’t know what "trans" even means.

The need for teacher training and curriculum reform is at the top of campaigners' agendas. "We're disappointed but not surprised by this example," says Jordan Daly, the co-founder of Time for Inclusive Education [TIE]. His grassroots campaign focuses on making politicians and wider society aware of the reality LGBTI school students in Scotland face. "We're in schools on a monthly basis, so we know this is by no means an isolated incident." 

Studies have repeatedly shown a startling level of self-harm and mental illness reported by LGBTI school students. Trans students are particularly at risk. In 2015, Daly and colleagues began a tour of schools. Shocking stories included one in which a teacher singled out a trans pupils for ridicule in front of the class. More commonly, though, staff told them the same story: we just don't know what we're allowed to say about gay relationships. 

This is the point, according to Daly - retraining, or rather the lack of it. For some of those teachers trained during the 1980s and 1990s, when Section 28 prevented local authorities from "promoting homosexuality", confusion still reigns about what they can and cannot teach - or even mention in front of their pupils. 

The infamous clause was specific in its homophobia: the "acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship" could not be mentioned in schools. But it's been 17 years since the clause was repealed in Scotland - indeed, it was one of the very first acts of the new Scottish Parliament (the rest of the UK followed suit three years later). Why are we still hearing this archaic language? 

"We repealed, we clapped and cheered, and then we just forgot," Daly says. After the bitter campaign in Scotland, in which an alliance of churches led by millionaire businessman Brian Souter poured money into "Keeping the Clause", the government was pleased with its victory, which seemed to establish Holyrood as a progressive political space early on in the life of the parliament. But without updating the curriculum or retraining teaching staff, Daly argues, it left a "massive vacuum" of uncertainty. 

The Stonewall research suggests a similar confusion is likely across the UK. Daly doesn't believe the situation in Scotland is notably worse than in England, and disputes the oft-cited allegation that the issue is somehow worse in Scotland's denominational schools. Homophobia may be "wrapped up in the language of religious belief" in certain schools, he says, but it's "just as much of a problem elsewhere. The TIE campaign doesn't have different strategies for different schools." 

After initial disappointments - their thousands-strong petition to change the curriculum was thrown out by parliament in 2016 - the campaign has won the support of leaders such as Nicola Sturgeon and Kezia Dugdale, and recently, the backing of a majority of MSPs. The Scottish government has set up a working group, and promised a national strategy. 

But for Daly, who himself struggled at a young age with his sexuality and society's failure to accept it, the matter remains an urgent one.  At just 21, he can reel off countless painful stories of young LGBTI students - some of which end in tragedy. One of the saddest elements of the story from St Kentigern's is that the pupil claimed his school was the safest place he had to express his identity, because he was not out at home. Perhaps for a gay pupil in ten years time, that will be a guarantee. 

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