Are we approaching workplace stress the wrong way?

by John Nelson
Chair, National Police Autism Association

The last couple of years have seen an increased recognition of the importance of staff welfare within policing. As a service, we are now far more aware of the effects of stress: in years gone by, an officer struggling with the after-effects of a fatality or other traumatic incident might be offered nothing more than a stiff drink in the bar after work; today, Forces offer trauma risk management (TRiM) and access to counselling as standard. The launch of the Oscar Kilo wellbeing portal in 2017 and the Police Federation’s successful ‘Protect the Protectors’ campaign reflect a more enlightened approach to wellbeing within the emergency services.

The focus on dealing with traumatic events tends to overlook another source of stress, and one that particularly affects staff with a neurodiverse condition such as autism, ADHD or dyslexia: day-to-day wellbeing. As a support group, we are often contacted by officers and staff who, for one reason or another, are not having a happy time at work; these reasons usually boil down to basic needs not being met. Despite our improved understanding of wellbeing, the police service is still something of a ‘one size fits all’ culture: as a warranted officer, you’re expected to work anywhere, in any core role, and perform to the same high standard. (Police staff are typically limited to their chosen role but may still be subject to widely varying working environments.) This approach doesn’t always work for everyone, and it especially doesn’t work for staff with hidden conditions and disabilities.

Take the station report writing room, for example – the place where officers start and finish each shift and get case files and paperwork done. With the move to larger police stations, officers are now likely to find themselves working in open-plan offices – sharing facilities with 20 or 30 colleagues at a time is not uncommon. Open-plan offices tend to be noisy – whilst some people might find a certain amount of background noise invigorating and most are are able to block out distractions, staff with sensory sensitivities typical of autism spectrum conditions may find constant background noise and interruptions intolerable and a significant barrier to performance. A supervisor may be sympathetic and willing to consider a reasonable adjustment such as a change of location or finding an officer a quiet room to work in; however all too often such accommodations can be seen as a nuisance (“Everyone else manages, why can’t you?”) or refused outright. What happens next varies, but is never good: if the officer’s performance dips below the minimum, performance management measures may be implemented; this is usually the point at which the officer takes sick leave suffering from stress and we are approached for help. Insisting on reasonable adjustments can sometimes lead to a stand-off between the officer, Occupational Health and local management, the latter being under no obligation to follow recommendations made by healthcare professionals. Even if line managers are willing to accommodate a change in working environment, such accommodations are sometimes made grudgingly, which will negatively impact on the officer’s career development. Or the officer may struggle on, managing to keep their performance above the minimum but coming into work unhappy and resentful every day – hardly a good place to be, and with obvious negative effects on resilience and long-term health.

Another factor which is arguably true for everyone, and especially to neurodiverse staff, is of square pegs not fitting into round holes. People with neurodiverse conditions tend to excel in certain roles and environments and struggle with others – for instance, an officer on the autism spectrum may thrive in a neighbourhoods role, where the focus is on solo working and long-term problem-solving; an officer with ADHD on the other hand may find the constant stimulation of a response role a better fit. Unfortunately there is no pathway for such career preferences to be accommodated, outside of recognised specialisations such as CID; if an officer is unlucky enough to find themselves in the ‘wrong hole’, the only way out may be through requesting a move as a reasonable adjustment, which may only be granted as a means of getting the officer back to work from sick leave. Some managers are more accommodating than others, but this is hardly ideal – our position is that this vital facet of wellbeing should not be a spin of the roulette wheel.

Along with culture, a barrier to wellbeing is austerity – with officers at all ranks being expected to achieve more with less, it is all to easy to view an officer who struggles as a ‘problem child’ (a term that unfortunately is still bandied about in policing circles). Managing resources, performance and sickness tends to fall to local District Commanders – these mid-level managers spend a good deal of time juggling team numbers on their office whiteboards, and with staffing levels constantly at minimum or below minimum, it’s easy to see why an officer requesting a transfer to different location or role would not be seen favourably as a potential high performer. The ‘immoveable object’ behind all of this is the Equality Act: employment law does not recognise that providing reasonable adjustments to disabled staff may ‘upset the numbers’ or be too costly. The ultimate result of getting this wrong is the Force being taken to an employment tribunal – a failure for everyone involved, regardless of outcome.

It’s hard to talk about the importance of wellbeing without looking at what can happen if it’s neglected, but I would like to focus on the positives. Neurodiverse officers and staff who overcome the odds to find their niche can be capable of great things – take for example Detective Inspector Warren Hines, Chief Inspector Nigel Colston and Inspector Kaj Bartlett, senior officers who have forged careers around their strengths arising from autism and ADHD. One of the most satisfying aspects of my role as NPAA Chair is being able to point potential neurodivergent officers to the Media Centre page on our website, where they be can be inspired to turn what many view as a negative into a positive.

I’m often asked what changes I would like to see in the future. An important change for our members would be for officers of all ranks to understand the importance of day-to-day wellbeing rather than just managing trauma, and to recognise that a small expenditure on effort, time and money can make a big difference in getting the best from our staff and giving our best to the public. ∎

The following blogs have been written for us as part of World Autism Awareness Week by two members of our coordinator team who have children on the autism spectrum. Names have been changed to protect the identity of family members.

Liz, Business Development Analyst and NPAA Lead Coordinator

When my son was born there were a lot of myths surrounding autism. One myth was that autism is caused by vaccines. My son, now aged 13 was vaccinated during a media climate of TV news reports which concentrated on showing clips of children not communicating, parents convinced that the MMR vaccine was responsible for their child having autism. The research surround this has now been found to be flawed and although scientists don’t fully understand what causes autism, it is thought to be genetic.

Our son received an autism diagnosis in 2011. As a baby he spoke and had a good command of language, but things like haircuts and changing routine could present a problem. It wasn’t until he was at school, when a teacher suggested we get a referral to the child development clinic that we became aware our son may be on the autism spectrum. It took two years of form filling, assessments and appointments to establish that he was autistic. Upon receiving this news I felt relief. I also experienced grief. What would the future hold for my son? Would he reach the same milestones as his older neurotypical brother? But I was also relieved. Relieved, that my child was autistic, not naughty. His behaviour, which could be perceived as stubborn or obstructive was sometimes due to finding the world overwhelming, and he was unable to express this in words.

Having a name for his behaviour – autism – meant I could focus my attention to learning what may help him in difficult situations. Having this information has enabled me to understand why certain situations can cause anxiety, and having more of the understanding of the condition has benefited us a family. We may have to prepare my son for a new situation so he has an understanding of what to expect. Avoiding queuing is something which makes a family day out much less stressful.

Having an autistic child can have its challenges, but I wouldn’t change my son. Autism is part of him. This is why promoting autism awareness is important to me. I’ve learned so much by having a child on the spectrum and I want to change attitudes and perceptions about the condition. I want to ensure those negative images of autism are challenged. I want my son, his peers and the 700,000 people in the UK known to have the condition to live in a world of understanding and acceptance.

Not every autistic person has a savant skill (someone with significant mental abilities far in excess of average). The skills at which savants excel are generally related to memory; similar to the character in the film Rain Man). Indeed, if my son did have an aptitude for understanding the sequencing of gaming machines I would have long since retired! Autism is unique. It’s a spectrum condition, not a line or scale.

Like any parent I have concern about my child’s future, but I worry about some things you may never have considered if you are a parent.

Will my child be able to make his own way to and from secondary school independently?

Will he ever stop wearing gloves during the month of August?

What will happen if they stop making the only brand of toothpaste he will use?

What would happen if my son needed the help of the police?

Would he be able to communicate effectively?

Would my child become a victim of crime as a direct result of his difference? Autistic people are more likely to be victims and witnesses of crime than offenders.

Will he get a job? Only 16% of autistic adults in the UK are in full-time paid employment, and only 32% are in some kind of paid work.

Will my son ever be able to answer a question without answering “I don’t know”.

Would a police officer be able to help him if he became distressed? (My son refuses to speak when things are difficult, because he’s processing information and may not know what words to use).

Will people always assume my son is rude if he does not give eye contact when being spoken to?

Do police officers have enough understanding of neurodiverse conditions? Neurodiversity is the concept where neurological differences are to be recognised and respected as any other human variation. These differences can include those labelled with dyspraxia, dyslexia, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), dyscalculia, autistic spectrum, Tourettes and others.

My interest in promoting autism awareness had led me to becoming my Force single point of contact for autism, and our Force lead contact for the National Police Autism Association.

Jon, Business Development Analyst and NPAA Deputy Coordinator

My son Peter, while not as outgoing as many of his peers, looks like and – trust me, speaks like your neurotypical teenager! However Peter was diagnosed with high-functioning autism two years ago. Autism is a lifelong, developmental disability that affects how a person communicates with and relates to other people, and how they experience the world around them. Peter suffers from extreme anxiety – his whole life is based around fear and he struggles with social communication. He can easily misinterpret situations and conversation. Living and coping in a world designed for neurotypical people is difficult and challenging and can lead to behaviour issues. For Peter the little things are the BIG things.

Being a parent of an autistic child can be extremely challenging: we face constant struggles, such as explaining on an almost daily basis how Peter thinks and about the condition itself. It can be tiring and frustrating. When the opportunity arose to join the National Police Autism Association as the Deputy Coordinator for my Force, it was an offer I could not refuse. It’s given me the opportunity to raise awareness about the condition. I want to ensure the negative images of autism are challenged. The role has allowed me to pass on my knowledge of the condition and help with the education in how to recognise people with autism and how to understand what steps can be taken in order to communicate and deal with autistic people positively. My lead coordinator and I have recently conducted training sessions with new PCSOs and police officers where we have given input on the subject of autism – the feedback suggests these have been both beneficial and enlightening. We will continue to work with our colleagues raising autism awareness and we encourage everyone to join the NPAA to learn more or seek support. You don’t need to be directly affected to join, just an interest in learning more.

I can empathise with colleagues who themselves may be parents or carers, and who may be going through similar challenges as myself. I have gained an understanding of how difficult and stressful it can be, the challenges, and indeed rewards of raising a child on the autistic spectrum. Knowing you are not alone can make a real difference.

Autism has been highlighted a lot recently in the media with TV dramas such as The A Word and documentaries by celebrities including Chris Packham, who himself has autism. I think it is fantastic the way that my Force and others are embracing autism awareness, and I believe together we can make a real impact in raising awareness and understanding of autism, both within the police service and the wider community.

The following blog was sent to us by a serving police Sergeant – the officer’s identity has been withheld due to family confidentiality.

My wife and I have always joked about my quirkiness. “I’m sure you have some form of autism”, she would say to me. Although it was said in jest, deep down we both knew it was a distinct possibility that I was on the autism spectrum.

After my daughter was born my wife and I started to see some distinct similarities between her social interactions and mine, so we continued to wonder.

In 2016 I was successful in getting an interview for promotion, but unfortunately missed out by a small margin. When I received my interview feedback I was convinced that I had been wronged in the marking of my answers. In fact, it turned out that I had interpreted some of the questions too literally and so didn’t answer what was actually being asked of me. It took me several months of deconstructing my interview in my mind to realise that I had fallen foul of a common trait of the autism spectrum – literal translation. Was this my fault or a process design flaw I wondered?

I began reading up on autism, searching the internet for more information to gain a greater understanding. The more I looked, the more boxes I began to tick. I came across an online questionnaire, often used as an early diagnostic tool. I was really pleased with my high score on the questionnaire, as I always enjoyed a good exam result, however the score was an indicator of a high likelihood of autism spectrum condition (ASC).

All evidence indicated a likely ASC diagnosis, but I questioned what good it would be in my thirties to have such a diagnosis? After all, ASC cannot be treated, it is merely a ‘different’ or ‘non-typical’ way of interacting with and processing the world around you; something I have lived with all of my life, though few people have ever known.

A diagnosis now at this stage in life would not change anything.

However, I read a few articles explaining diagnosis in adulthood can be a good thing, helping to provide self-acceptance for who you are and for those around you to begin to understand your quirks. It could also help to seek reasonable adjustments at work.

I went to my GP, who had to seek funding for an adult assessment, but within around 10 weeks I had my diagnosis. It was confirmed that I was autistic, following several questionnaires and a full day assessment with two psychologists.

The assessment process was uncomfortable, reliving uncomfortable parts of my childhood and teens in some detail; my difficulties forming friendships, spending large periods of time on my own and the challenges I encountered in suppressing my quirks to the people around me.

Now, I am not so much coming to terms with my diagnosis, but more like coming to terms with being ‘me’. I am now making less excuses for the way I am, embracing my quirks and being true to who I really am – rather than what I think everyone else expects me to be.

It isn’t easy being, thinking and doing things in ways that are unfamiliar to most other people, but with acceptance also comes the realisation that my differences are the root of my strengths.

Diagnosis hasn’t ‘fixed’ me, but it has released me to finally be myself.