Thought this was an interesting take on the programme: Taken from FB page UK Cop Humour's post
I am now an author, so please excuse the long winded reply, but I am so angry it needs to be said. Last night's BBC Panorama investigation into policing at Charing Cross station troubled me deeply, not because I condone poor policing, I despise it, but because the methods employed to obtain this footage raise serious questions about journalistic ethics and understanding of how human beings respond to extreme stress.
The practice of taking police officers out for drinks is hardly new. It has a name in journalism circles, the Alan Whicker, named after the BBC and ITV journalist who pioneered the technique. The strategy is simple and effective: lower someone's guard with alcohol and let them talk. It is an old interrogation method dressed up as casual socialising, and it has been used countless times before. What concerns me here is not just that it was used, but when and how it was deployed.
Having spent years dealing with violent situations in both military and police contexts, I recognise something crucial that appears to have been completely misunderstood or deliberately ignored by the programme makers. There is a phenomenon I call the comedown conversation. When someone has been in a situation where adrenaline is flooding their system, whether that is making an arrest, dealing with violent resistance, or any other high stress encounter, the body undergoes profound changes. Adrenaline is more powerful than cocaine. It transforms even the gentlest person into something primal. In that state, language changes, civility vanishes, and the carefully maintained professional guard drops away completely.
Police officers are trained to fight against these instincts when facing the public. They learn to maintain control, to use appropriate force, to remain professional even when their bodies are screaming at them to react differently. But when they return to their safe spaces, those private areas where they decompress with colleagues who understand what they have just experienced, something different happens. They vent. They use dark humour. They say things that would sound absolutely shocking to anyone outside that world. This is not unique to policing. It happens in emergency rooms, in military units, anywhere people regularly face traumatic situations.
In the military, we have recognised for years the critical importance of allowing personnel to decompress after traumatic incidents. What eventually became formalised as TRiM, Trauma Risk Management, grew from the understanding that people need protected spaces to come down from adrenaline highs through venting, and yes, sometimes that venting involves swearing and thoughts that would seem completely inappropriate in any other context. Without this release, serious mental health problems develop down the line. The BBC journalist approached officers during this vulnerable period, in their safe spaces, when they were decompressing, and I believe that was wholly wrong. They breached that space knowingly.
When I watched the footage of the detention in the cells, I saw nothing improper in the handling itself. The sergeant climbing onto the bunk to observe is standard practice. People who are drunk or experiencing mental health crises can require up to ten officers to restrain them safely. The observation was appropriate. However, the sergeant's comments about genitalia were crude, and here I place the blame squarely on management. He was not checked or warned by those around him. In fact, he seemed to be encouraged. I have seen this before in the military, insecure individuals with some authority holding court and going too far because they encounter no social friction, no pushback from their peers. Watching him, I actually felt sorry for him. He needed leadership to step in, and it did not happen.
What also struck me was the complete absence of balance regarding this officer. We saw nothing of him helping people at his desk, no context for the horrendous things he has to hear and deal with day after day. The editing presented only the worst moments with none of the ordinary humanity that surely exists alongside them.
The comment "she says", which was highlighted in the programme, is actually standard practice in custody suites. It was a reminder to staff to maintain impartiality when dealing with domestic incidents. Officers must guard against making assumptions based solely on one account, regardless of whether the complainant is male or female. Both men and women can be perpetrators and victims of domestic abuse, and officers are trained to investigate without bias. That was his crude way of reminding his team not to show fear or favour, to remain professional. It was inelegantly expressed, but the principle behind it was sound.
The conversations filmed outside the station were presented without any context. We saw none of the journalist's questions, no indication of whether they were open or closed, leading or neutral. We have no idea what happened in the first hour or more of that conversation, how the journalist deliberately steered the discussion to where they wanted it to go. The officers' comments about the volume of crime involving foreign nationals were shocking in their delivery, but they were stating something true, albeit in their own rough way. The question that needs asking is why those statistics exist, not whether officers are wrong to notice them.
Yet one glaring issue remains unaddressed. Charing Cross station has one of the most ethnically diverse workforces in the Metropolitan Police. Officers and staff from every background work there. But the programme was edited to show almost exclusively white male officers. This is what we call narrative editing. It creates an impression that may not reflect reality. It tells a particular story while ignoring evidence that might complicate that story.
This entire investigation was built on edited footage, the use of alcohol to loosen tongues, and filming of officers during their decompression time after adrenaline filled incidents. It focused exclusively on white male officers despite the diversity of the station. In doing so, it appears to have broken several laws including the Official Secrets Act provisions covering police stations, GDPR regulations on filming without consent, RIPA concerning covert surveillance, causing a nuisance inside a police station for the purposes of journalism, and potentially obtaining services by deception and fraud. This was not investigative journalism. This was a hatchet job, and I sincerely hope the Police Federation supports those officers whose lives and careers may now be destroyed by it.
I remain utterly opposed to poor policing. But I am equally opposed to journalism that uses questionable methods, strips away all context, and presents human beings at their most vulnerable as though those moments define their entire professional lives. We can demand better from our police without tolerating manipulative reporting that tells us only part of the story.