Communication breakdown?

Emails, tweets and Facebook posts are becoming the new language of communication as New Zealand Police adapts to a shifting media landscape. But, three months on from the launch of the new Police Media Centre in Wellington, is the public’s right to know under attack? Chris Morris reports.

Senior Sergeant Al Dickie is the epitome of an old-school cop — his stern glare framed by a police hat and a bristling moustache.

And when the Clutha-Taieri area response manager speaks about the carnage on Otago’s roads, his no-nonsense growl carries with the gravitas of experience.

After all, the 38-year police veteran has seen it all: the mangled car wrecks, the broken bodies, the blood, the screams and the death knocks that follow.

So in April this year, as police picked up the pieces following yet another fatal crash on Otago roads, Snr Sgt Dickie was prepared to be blunt when approached by a reporter.

Motorists, he said, were "still not listening", and families and emergency services were being left to deal with the devastating consequences.

"A massive void is created when someone they love is suddenly taken from them without warning. The pain is always there. The blood, the look of fear in people’s faces, broken bodies, death ... can hit the rescuer hard [too]."

It was the kind of searing message from a respected local cop that helped drive home the road safety message.

But it is also the kind of voice that is starting to fall silent in the South, as more police officers shy away from media following the launch of the new Police Media Centre in Wellington.

The centre, staffed by a team of dedicated communications staff, was launched in May to cope with the massive demand for information from media outlets across the country.

Police were attempting to adapt to the shifting media landscape in which news organisations were abandoning traditional deadlines in the pursuit of constantly updated 24-7 coverage.

Increasingly, phone calls to police stations were redirected to Dunedin’s police headquarters, and often then to Wellington, where brief emailed responses were the new norm.

• Case of the missing media update

And, while some Otago police continued to welcome the media’s interest, and saw its value, others now greeted a reporter’s arrival at a police cordon with stony silence.

It was a trend media commentator Gavin Ellis, the former editor-in-chief of The New Zealand Herald, said was not just a concern for the media.

In a democratic society, where great power was vested in the police, the change should concern everyone, he said.

Direct access to local police was "fundamental" to the media’s ability to get the story, but also to hold power to account, Dr Ellis said.

"That’s one of the reasons we have the news media, to hold power to account, and this is part of that process."

Police deputy chief executive of public affairs Karen Jones defended the new approach, saying the police were still accountable and the policy on who could speak to media had not changed.

But with rolling media coverage, constant demands for fresh information and the ability to publish instantly, the way the police dealt with media had to change, she said.

"The good old days of the local journalist ringing the local station — it’s not the case any more."

The new approach was outlined in internal documents circulated within the police, obtained by the Otago Daily Times following an Official Information Act request.

That included apparently contradictory guidance about dealing with media given to the police across the country and to officers in the Southern district.

One, from Ms Jones to all police staff, stressed any police officer could continue to speak to media on their area of responsibility.

But Southern district police commander Superintendent Mike Pannett had earlier advised police across the district not to comment if contacted by media, "especially printed media".

Instead, officers should ask for emailed questions and  give the assurance "someone will reply to those questions in due course".

"If the local media claim the matter is ‘urgent’ then refer them to the national police media hub. Please do not get drawn into making comment on the spur of the moment."

It was a mixed message that has left some Otago police confused and unwilling to talk, while others spoke quietly about the new approach’s faults and the need to maintain direct contact with media.

Snr Sgt Dickie, contacted this week, said he was one of those left scratching his head.

"It can be confusing. There’s mixed messages there and it’s hard to know what the boundaries are."

He understood the Police Media Centre approach, as the organisation needed to provide a "consistent standard" of information.

But it also risked going too far by shutting down valuable lines of communication between the police, the media and the public.

"It’s hard to get the balance right sometimes.

"It is important. The media and police should work together ... It’s called ‘Safer Communities Together’ and we can’t be if we don’t communicate with each other."

Snr Sgt Dickie said he tried to avoid the new media centre and talk directly to media instead, "although I’m not really supposed to".

"I’m supposed to go through the [media centre] hub," he said.

He preferred to stress the road safety message in his own way, as media releases from Wellington could be "quite generic".

"It’s the same old thing everywhere and it gets a bit boring. People just get sick of it. That’s why I like to give it a bit of impact sometimes, so that maybe people will listen.

"That’s my style and I don’t know if I’ll be able to change it in a hurry."

• Any veteran newsman will tell stories of the good old days, but, more recently, regular contact came when media assembled at local police stations for briefings on overnight incidents.

Daily phone calls followed, as reporters called stations every morning, afternoon and evening, checking for news.

"Otago Daily Times here. Anything to report?" went the usual greeting to Southern police officers.

The rustling of paper or tapping of a keyboard usually followed, as an officer sifted through the "rats and mice" of daily misdemeanours for an incident of interest.

And, if the worst happened, reporters and photographers joined police at the scene, waiting for a quiet moment to question the officer in charge.

That began to change with the shifting media landscape and the introduction of new district command centres (DCCs) by New Zealand Police in late 2013.

The new centres aimed to co-ordinate crime-fighting capabilities, but — as police became more reluctant to talk and media phone calls were diverted — they soon also became a focal point for reporters.

Some fielded 50 phone calls from rival media outlets during a major incident, and did not have "the capability or the time" to cope, Ms Jones said.

Journalists surveyed last year also expressed dissatisfaction and frustration at the police media system, resulting in the new Police Media Centre launched in May.

The centre, operating from 6am to 11pm, seven days a week, improved communication, while local police continued to talk about local issues.

But while emails have flowed from the new media centre, and traditional morning media briefings have continued in Dunedin and elsewhere, the change on the ground is apparent as more officers retreat from the spotlight.

• It was a shift that Dr Ellis said went beyond managing media demands, and instead appeared designed to control the message.

A centralised, email-based communications model handed an "unacceptable" level of control to the police, and could restrict public debate on important issues, he said.

That was apparent on the West Coast, where Inspector Mel Aitken last month questioned the public’s need to know the full story about crime, including when someone was tasered by police, he said.

Police also overstepped the mark by withholding information about the nationality of drivers involved in fatal crashes on New Zealand roads, he said.

That was despite a High Court judge in Napier  this week saying the issue of foreign drivers was of "widespread public concern".

"If our right to know is being diminished, then our ability to hold power to account is diminished," Dr Ellis said.

"And in a democratic society, that is a fundamental right ... That’s what this is really all about."

The new approach also risked eroding the public’s trust in the police, he warned.

"The police need to be very, very careful about their relationship with the media, because ultimately it affects their relationship with the community at large."

Police Association president Greg O’Connor agreed the new approach placed "another layer" between the police, the media and the public.

It was part of an ongoing centralisation of operations that "always has downsides", he said.

"In places like Otago, where relationships are important, it’s always going to impact there.

"Relationships are about trust, whereas when you put in processes, [they] tend to circumvent the personal aspect."

Police had to ensure information was correct, but the new approach could create delays, reduce detail and dilute the message, he said.

He believed it was  part of a trend across the public sector to avoid embarrassing those at the top, Mr O’Connor said.

"More and more, police over the years are very wary of upsetting the minister of the day. The more controlled the message going out is, the less likely they are to embarrass the government of the day."

Ms Jones denied that, saying the new approach aimed only to provide a better service.

She "absolutely" agreed local police should continue to talk to local media,  and insisted that had not changed, and police "absolutely still valued" local media.

Despite this, Supt Pannett declined an ODT request for an interview on the subject this week.

Ms Jones said contact with local police would in future depend on "individual relationships".

"If an individual officer decides, because they’re really busy, they don’t want to take five phone calls a day, that’s their individual choice."

Information on specific incidents of tasering, or the nationality of drivers involved in fatal crashes, was still released, but on a "case-by-case basis", she said.

"Would the public expect us to put out a media release every time we taser someone? Probably not.

"We don’t issue a media release every time someone is pulled over for speeding."

And, despite the concerns, the media centre had been well received, Ms Jones said.

The number of media releases issued had more than doubled, and centralised contacts and better use of social media meant complaints from journalists were declining, she said.

With 500,000 followers across Facebook and other social media platforms, the police could also talk "directly to the public", she said.

"I’d say we are doing more than we have ever done before."

chris.morris@odt.co.nz