A screenshot of the main character of Grant Theft Auto V hiding behind a police car during a shootout. Image: Rockstar
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Cops and robbers: how the police became our new favourite video game villains

The breakdown of trust between the public and the police has been reflected by how comfortable we are killing them in games.

I don’t remember exactly when I realised it. Maybe it was when I was mowing down an army of Swat team officers with a machine gun in Payday 2. Maybe it was when I was clubbing street cops to death with a colossal dildo in Saints Row 3. Maybe it was when I was playing Max Payne 3 as he slaughtered his way through almost the entire São Paulo police force. It could have been when I was watching people shoot down police helicopters in the Battlefield: Hardline promos, or playing any one of the Grand Theft Auto series. The realisation was that that there is something unwholesome about the portrayal of law enforcement officers in games, something unsettling about the glee with which games portray violence against them.

Violence in games has been around almost as long as the games themselves, and shooting police officers as a theme is not especially new. Games like Syndicate, and the first GTA, featured plenty of violence from the protagonists directed against police officers, but back then games were different. The industry was small and the reach was minimal. Games had a rebellious streak to them; they were a little bit edgy, a little bit punk.

Two things have changed since those days: the first is the reach of games, and the second is the quality of presentation. Games are ubiquitous now, and games like the GTA series count as the biggest and most marketable aspects of our media. Games also have a much higher standard of presentation than before - the targets of the violence in games can be recognisably human now, and speak and react in lifelike ways to getting brutalised for the amusement of players. The net result of these changes is that we have a situation where some of the biggest elements of our media are violent games and the targets of that in-game violence are often law enforcement.

This in itself ought to be seen as something to think about. Of course we all know the violence in games isn’t real, and it isn’t going to make people any more violent than they already were, but just because a game isn’t going to make you violent doesn’t mean that presenting law enforcement officers as enemies isn’t notable. Not inherently wrong, but it doesn’t feel like an entirely healthy state of affairs.

The list of people and things that it is acceptable to mercilessly slaughter in video games is not that long. Mostly it consists of Nazis, cultists, criminals, monsters and robots. To get onto that list you have to be seen as less than human, or to have divested yourself of your humanity to the extent that a player can not only stomach violence against you, but enjoy that violence. We can safely say given recent trends in games design that police officers are now on that list too.

Why are so many games portraying police as cannon fodder or villains? Who, if anybody, is to blame? I would contend not the games developers themselves - they serve the market, and if games about shooting cops didn’t sell so well we would not have so many games about shooting cops.

Nor would I blame the media at large. We’re still seeing movies about hero cops, good guys and bad guys, natural justice being served and that old timey morality. The old media has remained loyal to those ideas and you would never see anything like a movie with the profile of a game like GTA V or Saints Row 3 show that same level of disdain for the police.

It seems more plausible that the blame for how police officers are being portrayed lies with the police and law enforcement agencies themselves. The simple fact is since the turn of the century the reputation of police officers, around the world, has been sinking faster than a socially awkward submarine. Plenty of groups have had problems with law enforcement over the years for legitimate reasons - particularly those from ethnic minorities - but in the 21st century mistrust and hostility towards police has become normalised to an extent few could have predicted. In these days of ubiquitous cameras and video uploads to the internet much more of what the police do is open to scrutiny, and it can be shocking. The misconduct of police services from London to Los Angeles is online for everybody to see.

The extent of the mistrust towards the institutions themselves is deeper now than before, too. In the UK we’ve seen killings by police that have caused widespread outrage, most notably those of Jean Charles de Menezes, Ian Tomlinson and Mark Duggan. Innocent people killed, their killers escaping fitting punishment. We’ve seen police being heavy handed against demonstrators and undercover officers infiltrating peaceful and legitimate protest groups with no clear justification. We’ve seen light shone onto the actions of the police during the Hillsborough disaster and the duplicity surrounding that, alongside decades of shady dealings with the tabloids. In short, many of us have learned over the last few years that not only are police forces institutions with profound problems - putting it mildly - but that they have probably always been this bad. We just didn’t know about it. There is not a lot of faith left.

In the UK problems are severe, and the erosion of the relationship between a society and its law enforcement officers is something that harms both parties. It could, though, be much worse. In the USA the police have become militarised, happily acquiring surplus counter-terrorism and military hardware from the government. The use of paramilitary police units, even for mundane tasks such as serving warrants, has skyrocketed in the last couple of decades. All this, backed by a federal government that likes to snoop on people’s communications and put them in jail far more than anywhere else in the world. It really isn’t a surprise that the authorities are becoming seen as acceptable targets for the violence in games under such circumstances.

So what can be done? I would conjecture not very much. It isn’t like the police forces of the world will suddenly have a big meeting and decide that they’ll do their jobs better from now on, just so games developers stop being mean to them. As a society we’re just going to have to get used to the fact that we no longer seem to like the people we hired to enforce our laws, although since the feeling appears to be mutual perhaps this isn’t anything to lose sleep over.

Phil Hartup is a freelance journalist with an interest in video gaming and culture

Photo: Hunter Skipworth / Moment
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Cones and cocaine: the ice cream van's links with organised crime

A cold war is brewing to the tinkling of "Greensleeves".

Anyone who has spent a summer in this country will be familiar with the Pavlovian thrill the first tinny notes of “Greensleeves” stir within the stolid British breast.

The arrival of the ice cream van – usually at least two decades older than any other vehicle on the road, often painted with crude approximations of long-forgotten cartoon characters and always, without fail, exhorting fellow motorists to “Mind that child!” – still feels like a simple pleasure of the most innocent kind.

The mobile ice cream trade, though, has historical links with organised crime.

Not only have the best routes been the subject of many, often violent turf wars, but more than once lollies have served as cover for goods of a more illicit nature, most notoriously during the Glasgow “Ice Cream Wars” of the early 1980s, in which vans were used as a front for fencing stolen goods and dealing drugs, culminating in an arson attack that left six people dead.

Although the task force set up to tackle the problem was jokingly nicknamed the “Serious Chimes Squad” by the press, the reality was somewhat less amusing. According to Thomas “T C” Campbell, who served almost 20 years for the 1984 murders before having his conviction overturned in 2004, “A lot of my friends were killed . . . I’ve been caught with axes, I’ve been caught with swords, open razors, every conceivable weapon . . . meat cleavers . . . and it was all for nothing, no gain, nothing to it, just absolute madness.”

Tales of vans being robbed at gunpoint and smashed up with rocks abounded in the local media of the time and continue to pop up – a search for “ice cream van” on Google News throws up the story of a Limerick man convicted last month of supplying “wholesale quantities” of cocaine along with ice cream. There are also reports of the Mob shifting more than 40,000 oxycodone pills through a Lickety Split ice cream van on Staten Island between 2009 and 2010.

Even for those pushing nothing more sinister than a Strawberry Split, the ice cream business isn’t always light-hearted. BBC Radio 4 devoted an entire programme last year to the battle for supremacy between a local man who had been selling ice creams in Newbiggin-by-the-Sea since 1969 and an immigrant couple – variously described in the tabloids as Polish and Iraqi but who turned out to be Greek – who outbid him when the council put the contract out to tender. The word “outsiders” cropped up more than once.

This being Britain, the hostilities in Northumberland centred around some rather passive-aggressive parking – unlike in Salem, Oregon, where the rivalry from 2009 between an established local business and a new arrival from Mexico ended in a highish-speed chase (for an ice cream van) and a showdown in a car park next to a children’s playground. (“There’s no room for hate in ice cream,” one of the protagonists claimed after the event.) A Hollywood production company has since picked up the rights to the story – which, aptly, will be co-produced by the man behind American Sniper.

Thanks to competition from supermarkets (which effortlessly undercut Mister Softee and friends), stricter emission laws in big cities that have hit the UK’s ageing fleet particularly hard, and tighter regulations aimed at combating childhood obesity, the trade isn’t what it used to be. With margins under pressure and a customer base in decline, could this summer mark the start of a new cold war?

Felicity Cloake is the New Statesman’s food columnist. Her latest book is The A-Z of Eating: a Flavour Map for Adventurous Cooks.

This article first appeared in the 22 June 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The zombie PM

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