By any objective measure, it was a lousy job. More often than not we worked eighty hours per week, with most of those hours spent in near constant contact with nine or more behavior disordered adolescents. Support from other staff was spotty, the kids were unpredictable with explosive tempers simmering just below the surface, and every other weekend was spent locked in a house with kids who did not want to be there. All this for $13,750 per year and laughably inadequate benefits. What more could a twenty three year old college graduate with a fresh BA in Psych ask for than a job in residential treatment?
I loved it.
When I first started the job I did not feel unsafe and I loved the challenge. My employer had taught me how to restrain, to take away knives if they tried to stab me, to divert choke holds, and to deflect even the most well-intentioned punch. I thought I knew everything I needed to know and I believed all I needed was one other staff person, regardless of how dangerous a situation became. I believed I was invincible.
This belief and my training served me well for the first seven months on the job, but things were about to change in ways no one foresaw. The arrival of Rosa and Lakesha in the home I worked in signaled the beginning of the end. Explosively violent and conniving, they terrorized the other girls in the home and then turned their rage onto staff, and most particularly onto me. At the same time I got a new supervisor, Tabitha, who openly disdained me and the staff I had worked with, and who was extremely angry I was dating Mike. She joined with the girls in disrupting the rules and order we had worked so hard to create, and this only emboldened Rosa and Lakesha to act out against me more. Their violence increased and the house fell more and more into disarray. It was getting harder to justify staying, even though I was now making a whopping $14,250 annually!
The final straw was when some of the girls learned of, and reported, a plot Rosa and Lakesha had hatched to attack me by throwing boiling kitchen grease into my face during dinner prep on the next weekend I worked alone. Several girls came forward and verified what they knew. The two girls had already demonstrated a willingness and capacity for violence. I requested additional help in the home for that weekend but my request was refused! Tabitha insisted I work alone with them to learn to get over it. I went to the agency management to plead my case for additional help and was told that, "We know you are right, but we have to show support for our supervisors." Besides, they explained, they could not justify the expense or trouble of adding staff to the home just because of two girls. It was a problem you need to work through yourself. I could see where I was on the food chain.
I had had enough. My safety was worth more than $14,250. I now hated a job I was very good at and had loved only six months before. My morale was shattered. I quit.
What is morale and why should I care?
Although it did not happen in a police department, this story is true and illustrates many of the components that lead to low or nonexistent morale in organizations: hard work for low pay, excessive hours, lack of managerial support, organizational inability to adapt to changing needs, and placing the "bottom line" over employee satisfaction, or even safety. It did not happen in a police department, but it could have.
So just what is morale? Why is it so important to, and so difficult to maintain in, organizations? And why should you, as a leader in a police organization, care about the morale of those beneath you?
Morale can be described as the mental, emotional, or psychological well-being of an individual or a group, with regard to sense of purpose, wellness, and confidence in the future. In an organization, good morale lends itself to what may be best known as the Esprit de Corps, or a sense of common purpose. When morale is high an organization can flourish; its vision is clearly defined, common goals are understood, group cohesiveness is built around their achievement, and creative energy is channeled into reaching them. When morale is low an organization suffers; group cohesiveness is lost as common goals are pushed aside in favor of individual self-interest, survival becomes more important than achievement, and creative energy is stifled by bureaucratic hubris. As a leader, which setting would you prefer to preside over?
We are guessing each reader, whether they are a police administrator in a command role or a line officer/supervisor, quickly answered they would prefer to lead and work in a high morale environment (if not, please add a comment at the end of this article and explain!). Officers with high morale are likely to devote themselves to the organizational mission and to accept leadership direction. They feel more connected and loyal to the organization, present fewer disciplinary problems, and require less "negative" attention. Naturally, maintaining high morale should be a primary leadership focus, right?
So where are all the angry cops coming from?
Why, then, is low morale so endemic in police organizations? Why do so many line officers and supervisors feel disconnected from, and marginalized by, their leadership? What leads so many enthusiastic young officers to become burned out, cynical "old" officers before their time? Can anything be done, at the police leadership level, to promote high morale in the ranks? Or is becoming a crusty, burned-out, cynical old cop the ultimate fate of all of the enthusiastic and hard-working newbies?
We believe morale can be improved and maintained, and placing focus on employee morale should be a management priority. Unfortunately, in too many instances and in too many organizations, this does not seem to be the case. The attitude of, "Employee morale is not my problem. It is the employees' responsibility," or some variation, is often held by managers. Realistically, however, the manager truly concerned with employee retention, productivity, and customer service should see that morale is his or her problem. This holds true for both the private and public sectors.
How often have you heard or read of departments that suffer from high employee turnover, sometimes despite competitive salaries and excellent benefits? How often have you heard or read of departments where animosity between management and line officers is the rule rather than the exception? How often have you heard or read of the divisions and morale problems that have spilled into the mainstream press, shoving a department’s dirty laundry out in public for all to see? These stories are all too common and underscore what seems to be a pervasive problem in the law enforcement profession: Law enforcement extracts a large toll, psychologically, emotionally, and physically, on those who make it a career and it is not entirely, or even primarily, those policed who take the largest share of that toll. It is often the politics, policies, and stresses generated within the police agencies themselves that most significantly impact law enforcement professionals.
If you are a leader in a police organization, how is the morale of the people under you? If morale is low, then why? Do you believe organizational morale is one of your responsibilities and, if so, what do you do to improve it? Is good morale important, or maybe even essential, for the organization to carry out its mission? What do you and your organization do right, and what can be done better, to make it a good place to work?
Low morale is a serious problem in law enforcement. It is a problem in need of solutions. It is a problem police administrators, line supervisors, and officers need to take seriously now. We welcome your thoughts.
