Cops

In my previous life, I had to write brief statements for my boss (the Senator) who could not attend some sort of an event or another. Usually, I would write the words, get my supervisor to approve the remarks, then go to the event and read them on behalf of my absent Senator.  

One time, I read some remarks at some sort of police function. It was an opportunity for me to recognize the tough job that cops have, and how much we (the Senator and the Oregonians he represented in the US Senate) appreciate them.  

After I read the remarks (which no one usually listened to, because I was just a staffer), and the other formalities of the event were done, a cop came up to me during the mingling and asked me if I used to be a cop. A little surprised, I said, no, but that my brother was a cop, and that I had worked with a lot of cops as a Senate staffer. He observed that the remarks I read made him think that I knew what it was like to be a cop.  

Cops have an impossible job. In their capacity of law enforcement officers, theirs is to largely interact with the dregs of society. The people who feel they can do what they want to whom they want, and no one can stop them. When the cops show up,  the crims are in many cases ready for a fight.  

In their capacity of peace officers, people call them up to help resolve a disturbance in a home, and seemingly all sides fight them every step of the way when they arrive.  Every time they pull someone over for speeding or some other traffic infraction, there’s a good chance they’ll get grief for it (in the best-case scenario). The worst-case scenario is that they might get shot at or run over. They never know.  

To deal with this, many have to flip a psychological switch in their minds – the “toughen up” switch, just to get through the day. Just to keep an even keel as they deal with fights and arguments, and non-cooperation from every call they answer, every stop they make, and every law they enforce. Sure, there’s the periodic “thank you” from a citizen, or a high five from a kid. But that is the exception, not the rule.  

Have any of you worked in a job where your boss/co-worker/or customer fought you at every step, questioned your every move, hounded you for doing what you know to be the requirements of your position?  

I have, and it sucked. It was miserable. For self-preservation, I had to build up a psychological wall to keep things together. And it was nearly impossible to switch it off when the workday was done. If you’ve had similar experiences either at work or in abusive relationships (which can require a similar need for self-preservation), then I suspect you, along with me, have an inkling of what it’s like to be a cop.  

The people you are trying to serve and help are fighting you every step of the way. Dealing with that is tough enough. Then, at the end of the workday, try switching it off and having a normal family life with the people you love the most. I suspect most people can’t do it.   

The remarkable thing is that the men and women who go into law enforcement usually know these types of challenges are part of the package. And they do it anyway! It takes a special sort of person to make that kind of sacrifice.  

Thank a cop.  

(There may those who read this who are acutely aware of the bad apples in the law enforcement bunch. You’re right. There are folks who aren’t so noble in the profession - the ones who get into the business because they want to boss people around as opposed to those officers who want to help. Well, Jesus had his Judas, George Washington had his Benedict Arnold, and the vast majority of cops have their traitors to their profession. Don’t curse them all. Just curse the traitors.)

Discrimination

On one occasion some years ago, a friend of mine who is of a different philosophical persuasion than I am typed something in an e-mail to the effect of: “You don’t know what it’s like to be discriminated against.”  

I pondered that, then responded something along the lines of: “I think there are different degrees of discrimination, so I won’t lay claim on the more severe types of it - thankfully. However, I do think I have a sense of what it’s like.

• I am a conservative Republican living in downtown Portland, Oregon and I work for a very well-known Republican politician. So, I’m a known quantity. There is not a social gathering or pub concert I can go to where I won’t be asked what I do for work, and have to think twice about actually saying what I do and who I work for. On the few occasions I did, I was greeted with looks of disgust, immediate accusations and arguments, etc. People made all sorts of incorrect assumptions about my thinking, reasoning, and character even though they’ve heard nothing more from me than my name and occupation. I sorta had to keep my professional life on the DL in many social circles. (I also had a “W” sticker on the bottom of my surfboard. Think how many friends that lost me in the line up.)  So I have a sense of what it’s like to experience political discrimination.

• My religious forbearers were driven across the continent by angry mobs, and had a Governor issue an extermination order on them. In many religious circles, my faith is still accused of all sorts of bizarre things that don’t resemble truth as I know and experience it. My faith has been the subject of mockery on the stage of presidential politics, and is currently being mocked in the form of a smash Broadway musical hit. So, I have a sense of what it’s like to experience religious discrimination. 

• I was a white guy in Okinawa for a few years. According to the CIA World Factbook, Japan’s ethnic groups include a notation of 0.6% of “other”.  Caucasian being just a part of that 0.6%. Most Americans in Okinawa don’t speak Japanese, but I do.  So I heard and understood the remarks being made about me in the company of the locals (of course, they didn’t know I spoke the language).  None of the remarks were severe (as it’s just not in the nature of most Okinawans to be mean spirited), but they weren’t flattering either. And, as a result, there were certain activities I just didn’t feel comfortable…how shall I say?… imposing myself into (I didn’t want to be a bother or cause any trouble). So, I think I have a sense of what it’s like to experience ethnic discrimination.”

There are other types of discrimination I could have gotten into in my e-mail reply many years ago. But I think I made my point. I was (and am) very careful to use the term “I think I have a sense”, because I really don’t want to claim that I’ve been the brutal victim of prejudice or discrimination like others have experienced.  

But I would suggest that if each of us examine our life experiences, we can all identify times when we have been discriminated against, and how that made us feel.  

I can’t speak for others, but what got/gets me through periods of discrimination are a few things: 

1. biting my tongue, and keeping my mouth shut;
2. a strong sense of self that my family/parents helped me develop when I was growing up; 
3. an ability to take my limited encounters with discrimination and turn it into an empathy for those who experience it more often and more intensely than I do (making lemonade of out lemons – something my parents taught me to do).  

These are things that help me, but I confess I am not always successful in executing my understanding on how to deal with discrimination.  

For those who fall into my category of life experiences, who have, perhaps, a sense of what discrimination is like, consider for a moment if that happened to you all the time, unrelentingly? How hard would it be, after a while, to just “let it go”. Consider the lessons learned by both children and adults in the following video: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/frontline/f.... These are valid concerns of those who are on the more regular and intense receiving end of discrimination. Understanding and accepting as valid the concerns of someone else is what I call empathy.  

If we develop empathy for those who are having a hard time, then we might begin to trend toward reconciliation between the two opposing viewpoints/experiences.  

There is discrimination out there, and it sucks. It rots the soul of the discriminator, and erodes the self-worth and hope of the discriminated (see my earlier FB note on Hope).  

Even though I don’t appear to be the poster child for a victim of discrimination, it is unfair and inaccurate to say that I don’t know what it’s like. I may not know precisely what your experience is like, but I know what mine is, and it is/was no good.

Hope

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the word “hope”.  Hope, in a biblical sense, seems to be the middle child to Faith and Charity - often forgotten; but ever so crucial to each of us.

I’m not a psychologist, but as I try to wrap my mind around how or why a person could get to a point in their thinking that shedding blood (their own and/or someone else’s) seems to be an option, I wonder if it’s because they have lost hope for their situation - whatever that situation is.

When someone is hopeless, they feel like they no longer have any choices.  Nothing is in their control, they are powerless over their own lives.

This is not limited to those in poverty, not limited to those whose outward appearance seems to indicate that they have little to hope for.  We all, I think, can find ourselves in some level of despair resulting from seemingly unending and difficult life circumstances.  Sometimes these are a result of a lifetime of poor or uninformed decision making.  Sometimes it’s a matter of bad luck - things just don’t seem to go our way.  Sometimes a combination of the two, I suppose.

But, I’m convinced that most of us who have lived a few years have experienced periods of despair; hopelessness.

I have experienced this.  It was brutal, and not for a short period of time.  But I was fortunate to have loving people around me, I am generally an optimist, have the benefit of possessing an otherwise stable mental health, and exercised faith in God, and practiced charity toward those around me as best I could.

These things got me through my despair and period without hope.

Not everyone has in their lives what I had/have.  Not everyone has the tools I had when I needed some stabilizing forces in my life until I could regain some hopeful footing.

I encourage those who read this to consider this before judging others.  Certainly, there is no excusing the shedding of innocent blood.  However, if we take the time to consider the importance of hope, look at those around us who may not have any hope, and seek to be charitable toward them (not necessarily with resources, but with real, person-to-person support and empathy), perhaps we can help folks take a few steps back from the precipice of hopelessness, and get them to a better place.

If we’re honest, we’ve all been there.  Some of us had/have the tools and support to get us through despair and hopelessness.  Some do not.  Let’s offer tools to those who do not, and perhaps help head off tragedy.