LAPD : The Mission That Made Fuhrman a ‘Good’ Cop

In his book “Megatrends,” John Naisbitt contends that for an organization to be successful, it must constantly scan its environment with an eye toward adjusting its practices and procedures to the changing world. During the early ‘80s, the book was virtually mandatory reading for up-and-coming managers in the Los Angeles Police Department. But judging by their response to the Mark Fuhrman debacle, and the enduring problems exposed by the Christopher Commission, the Police Department’s leaders appear to have forgotten--or failed to comprehend--what they read.

At the heart of the LAPD’s inability to adapt to the demands of a changing city is a sense of mission conceived in and for another era: the Police Department as a buffer between good and bad people. Properly understood, it is a mission that explains how a Fuhrman could survive for 20 years within the LAPD despite the contemptuous prejudices he expressed and the misconduct he may have practiced and condoned. Indeed, within the culture of the organization he served, Fuhrman was considered a good cop. His assignments and promotions verify that. He was more than tolerated; he was rewarded.

Ironically, it was a desire to be a professional department immune to corruption that created this environment.

In 1950, the Police Department, weary of political tampering and corruption, selected William H. Parker to be its chief. Parker, who had been an officer since the late 1920s, was influenced by--and was a major contributor to--the police-professionalism movement championed by August Vollmer, O. W. Wilson and other police progressives. He implemented comprehensive reforms and rigid management systems designed to head off corruption and to centralize and tighten his control of the department.

For example, to prevent field officers from becoming too chummy with each other, their supervisors or citizens--situations that, in Parker’s view, fostered corruption--the chief required that patrol officers and their supervisors regularly rotate assignments.

The police-professionalism model also embraced management concepts, popular at the time in industry and business, that enjoyed a cachet of scientific objectivity. Decision-making and measures of effectiveness were anchored to statistical data. Officers were expected to be productive, as measured by the “recap,” a monthly compilation of arrests, traffic citations, field interviews and other indices of busy-ness. Other ways to evaluate an officer--attitudes, human-relations skills, ethical standards--were de-emphasized.

The LAPD, staffed with far fewer cops per capita than in other major cities, became the model of efficient policing. The department compensated for its lack of numbers by proactive policing, a term coined to describe an aggressive law-enforcement style and one that was easily quantifiable.

The result was a smoothly running department virtually free of corruption. It was also a Police Department whose officers were, for efficiency’s sake, insulated and detached from the citizenry. Cops who became too friendly to the people they policed were vulnerable to the temptations of corruption. By contrast, officers who concentrated on building a statistical profile of achievement were less likely to take a bribe.

Parker’s system, by design, also disrupted the continuity of supervisory-field officer relationships, forcing supervisors to rely on statistical data and reviews of officers’ written reports when evaluating performance--”a citation a day keeps the sergeant away.” Writing police reports that reflected well on their author became an art form that would find many uses in the years ahead.

Los Angeles was undergoing profound changes even as its Police Department expanded and refined the professionalism model that guided its conduct. The city’s power structure became less and less white with each gain in civil rights. Rapid economic growth produced a more heterogenous population. Members of minority groups no longer tolerated repressive policing styles without a protest. The courts increasingly restricted the methods used by officers to gather information, conduct searches and interrogate suspects, thereby undercutting many of the tactics used in proactive policing.

But Parker’s LAPD never recognized the significance of these and other changes for the way it policed the city. Officers seemed bewildered and angered by the responses they received from the community. Weren’t they, after all, members of the most professional, cleanest, most efficient police organization in the world?

True, during Ed Davis’ tenure as chief, the LAPD somewhat modified its mission. Davis sought to knock his officers off their professional perches and put them into contact with the community they served. Decision-making was decentralized, with some authority even devolving to the patrol-car level. Assignments were stabilized; officers were ordered to meet with the citizenry of the neighborhoods they patrolled. Citizens could directly complain to them about LAPD practices and policies.

This shift toward community interaction, however, did little to change the basic way the LAPD kept law and order--proactive policing aimed at containing bad people. Officers distinguished their community-relations activities from their “real” work; supervisors and command officers continued to reward “good, hard-nosed police work,” i.e., recap.

Chief Daryl F. Gates slammed the door on Davis’ innovations, restoring what he considered LAPD tradition--the Parker model. His timing could not have been worse. A growing immigrant population, increasing racial tensions and a power structure no longer exclusively in white hands, coupled with a prolonged recession at the end of his tenure, were changing the face of the city. A “siege mentality” pervaded the Police Department--and then came the riots.

Although frequently mentioned as a solution to the LAPD’s mounting problems, a sustained and aggressive policy of identifying and weeding out rogue officers will not result in a Police Department supported and respected by the citizens. As long as officers’ effectiveness is primarily measured by how well they embody the “good, hard-nosed street cop” image, and as long as there is a tolerance within the department for racist and sexist attitudes, other Fuhrman-like incidents will occur and be an embarrassment to the organization, the city and the law-enforcement community. The Fuhrmans are merely the blemishes of a disease deep within the LAPD, a disease strengthened by an antiquated policing style.

Chief Willie L. Williams has properly said that there must be zero tolerance within the LAPD for racial and gender bias and other officer misconduct. But he must do more than stand alone in front of a bank of microphones and make pronouncements. His words are empty of effect without the total--and visible--support of his command staff and without a clearly articulated program for making his words a reality. Any such program must recognize that the police paradigm clung to by the LAPD for the last 40 years must be abandoned. A new statement of mission embracing the concepts of community-based policing must take its place. Los Angeles has outgrown the “thin blue line.”*