There is probably no social agency we take for granted more than the police. The police don’t get enough respect. Mostly, when we read about them, something has gone wrong, often terribly wrong. At best we read about them in relationship to crimes, more often than not unsolved. This is usually because they are spoken to right after the commission of an investigation, which, given the short attention span of the media, gets little coverage at its close. Critics are usually overly vehement about and ignorant of the ways police contribute to their quality of life. The duty of the police is extraordinary, their physical power within our common society unequaled. They are assigned to protect us but also to police us. We are critical with them when there is too much crime and chaos, equally critical when they overreact to criminals and idiots. When the police do something wrong, we are outraged. And there is so much they can do wrong. They can fail to be there when we think they should; they can be there in the wrong way when we think they shouldn’t. If there is a riot, it is their fault. If they use strong-arm tactics to contain a riot, it is their fault. When the police are most effective — the streets relatively safe, the city quiet — it is assumed they contributed nothing. I know radicals who rant against the police; they would be swallowed up within minutes in a society without police. (Once this was amusing, but now it is annoying — listening to the anarchist rantings of the privileged and protected.)
The police are of the community and not simply above it. Which argues that the police should be — and should demand to be — held up to the highest standards. Charges of police misconduct should be aggressively pursued. The key to the success of the police is, ultimately, their relationship to the community. This relationship is a two-way street in which both police and community should feel empowered and comfortable. It is not an easy place at which to arrive.
Mike Clark-Madison offers a powerful profile of Mike Sheffield, 22-year APD veteran and head of the Austin Police Association (“The People vs. Mike Sheffield,” p. 24). Sheffield may be the most powerful policeman in the city, yet he doesn’t fit the mold. Smart, literate, widely respected, Sheffield still helped neuter the recent agreement on civilian review of police actions. The tale of the Police Review Panel, much as we would like it to be otherwise, is a political tale of modern Austin, illustrating how hard it is to reach reasonable goals.
If you plunge into this story in search of hero or villain, you miss the point. It is about the police. It is about our relationship with them. But like every civic story these days, it is about how dramatically this city has changed and how we’re still struggling to keep up. A strong, smart civilian review should benefit both civilians and the police. We are waiting to see exactly what this city will get. 
This article appears in March 30 • 2001.