2023-12-27 10:39:00
”Oh, journalists, curse, with irony, a police officer who crosses us. Are you also here to show how racist and violent we are? Because, well, we know the refrain. Your friends have already covered the subject. And given the reactions we’ve been encountering in the streets since…”
He recovers. “Sorry. I don’t have to tell you how to do your job, but I’m a little tired of this one-sided view of the police. No one can ever condone the violence you saw in this report. But to show this without counterbalancing with other realities of the profession is to make people believe that the police do nothing other than hit and insult. This will only fuel an already deep hatred of the police. Ask colleagues how we were received yesterday at Place du Conseil. You will understand…”.
The police stopped near Brussels-Midi station where an accident had just been noted. ©cameriere ennio
An ambush on the Place du Conseil
This exchange with this police officer will fuel discussions throughout our reporting evening in the company of a main inspector, whom we will call Jean, and his evening partner, whom we will call Mo.
We will thus learn that, the day before, several police officers present on the Place du Conseil – a stone’s throw from the municipal administration of Anderlecht – were targeted by mortars. “A real ambush,” laments Jean. We were made to understand that this was a reaction to the television report on police violence. It’s a shame. Because we understand the anger of citizens, but we refuse to suffer the consequences.”
And Mo continues. “I do not wish to comment further on this subject,” begins the young police officer. I only have one thing to say. Just as the young people in the neighborhoods refuse this generalization according to which they are all a bunch of thugs, I refuse this generalization according to which we, police officers, are all driven by violence and racism. I work out of conviction, to help the population and serve others. I share this conviction with most of my colleagues. Unfortunately, this is not the image we see on the outside. Even if we say that they only represent a minority, who will still believe us…”, he concludes, with a dejected air. Then he returns to his vehicle. Without saying a word.
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“Just as young people in the neighborhoods refuse this generalization that they are all a bunch of thugs, I refuse this generalization that we, police officers, are all driven by violence and racism.”
Installed in the back seat, we head towards Brussels-Midi station. No classic patrol on the program, but a follow-up operation around the Brussels station, under the fire of criticism and the spotlight since the end of the summer. “In recent months, we have been in great demand to work in the area,” explains Inspector Jean. At the beginning, there were a significant number of arrests, both judicial and administrative. Today, an almost unusual calm reigns around the Gare du Midi. Our goal is to keep it that way. We are therefore regularly on the ground to show potential troublemakers that we are there, that the territory is not theirs. For the moment, it is proving its worth”.
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Mo, at the wheel, nods in agreement, while observing around him to see if there is any suspicious movement. Apart from this tourist victim of a pickpocket, and this Eurocrat who hit a taxi driver while trying to park his vehicle, “RAS”.
So, Jean and Mo suggest we go elsewhere. “You want to see what the hatred of the cop is? You will see…”, they warn.
Anderlecht, the criminogenic
7:15 p.m. Clemenceau metro station. From a distance, everything looks calm. Apart from these few kids chatting among themselves, nothing on the horizon. But as the police vehicle approaches the square, screams ring out. Then a young man runs away at full speed.
“What you just saw was a “chouf” (nickname given to lookouts, “chouf” in Arabic means “look”, Editor’s note) in full action, explains Mo. He shouted to signal our presence. And people who don’t necessarily want to meet us – mainly drug dealers – therefore flee. But hey, whoever ran away, we know very well who it was. We’re not going to bother chasing him, we’ll run into him soon enough. There are no patrols nearby to help us, so we won’t take unnecessary risks.” As if to taunt the police, the group of young people remaining on the square greet the patrol by miming kisses. Followed by bursts of laughter.
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“There are not, as some like to say, lawless zones. The police enter all the neighborhoods in Brussels. Without exceptions. But we don’t go anywhere we want.”
The police vehicle continues its route and heads towards Place Bethlehem, in the lower part of Saint-Gilles. “Ah, here, we’re not going to receive kisses…”, says Jean. The inspector does not have time to finish his sentence when an individual shouts and insults the two police officers. Words accompanied by a few arms of honor.
“That’s our daily life,” says Mo, who stares at the individual without blinking. And once more, it’s really nice. Because the insults and the arms of honor, I don’t care. It’s when they decide to take action that it’s more annoying. Especially since we see a trivialization of violence, whether once morest us or in general. Physical violence has become the quick and easy response. We talk a lot regarding guns, but in reality, we don’t see many on the ground. On the other hand, guys with an Opinel have become the norm. And a shot of Opinel might be fatal.”
Are there some neighborhoods more complicated than others, we ask? “There are not, as some like to say, lawless zones. The police enter all neighborhoods in Brussels. Without exception. But we don’t go anywhere we want,” explains Jean. Then he turns to his colleague. “You remember, at Peterbos. We were there, just the two of us, and yet, despite what we heard from the neighborhood, we got nothing.”
Insecurity around the Gare du Midi: “It’s good for the federal government to give us a pat on the back, it’s better if there are means”
Mo continues. “On the other hand, Square Jacques Franck, in Saint-Gilles, is not bad in its genre. People often talk regarding Peterbos or Place Lemmens in Anderlecht, but Jacques Franck is sometimes heavy.”
Police officers from the Brussels-Midi zone patrol three Brussels municipalities: Forest, Saint-Gilles and Anderlecht. So we ask: which is more complicated? “We often tend to think that Forest is the calmest, but that is a false belief. In certain corners of the town, it is sometimes unfrequentable. Same for Saint-Gilles, but I believe that Anderlecht is the most criminogenic,” analyzes Inspector Jean.
Mo added: “Heist, deal, murder, I looked at the Penal Code with what I have already seen in these neighborhoods. We even had a parricide recently, that’s to say.”
Ashamed to say that we are a policeman
The police mission is soon coming to an end. Before taking a moment to have dinner, Inspector Jean makes a radio call to the other colleagues to ensure that everything is going well. “Everything is rolling. So we can meet at the station for a bite to eat,” suggests the police officer. Meeting place: Forest central police station.
Other police officers from the area invite themselves to the meal. Noticing our presence, they inevitably raise the subject linked to reporting on police violence. “Madam journalist,” begins one of the police officers. Frankly, there are bad apples everywhere. There are bad police officers, just as there are bad journalists. Should we therefore consider that you are all rotten? No,” he insists.
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“Doing the same thing once more, with the same people on the same street corners, it’s boring for me. I feel like I’m going in circles. I’m discouraged. If I had to do it once more, I wouldn’t have become a police officer. If I might go back, I would do something else.”
Mo, who remained silent throughout the meal, speaks shyly. “Guys, you know I love this job. I have been a police officer for almost eleven years and when I started, there was a feeling of pride that animated me. But this pride is no longer there, he begins. Today, I am almost ashamed to say that I am a police officer. Because I will be considered neither more nor less as this kind of crooked cop that I am not.”
Then he looks back on notable moments during his career. “Recently, I saved a disabled person from a burning house. The firefighters intervened upstairs, I entered on the ground floor. I was happy to have saved a life, it’s a unique feeling. Then I came across a press article reporting the fire. We talked regarding firefighters, but not a single line regarding police work. Not a word. Nothing. Yesterday I found a three year old child who was missing. There was panic in the streets. His family was inconsolable. When we found this little boy, it was great. Everyone was kissing me. These kinds of moments are what I wanted when I became a police officer. Except that the reality is much more difficult. In itself, I don’t do this job for recognition. But all the contempt we get in return is starting to weigh heavily. “
And to conclude: “Besides, I tell you: I am not going to end my career in this uniform. Beyond the lack of recognition, we see other problems. For example, even if we do the work, the follow-up is not always there. Arresting a guy and finding him on the street five hours later, I’m fed up. Doing the same thing once more, with the same people on the same street corners, is boring for me. I feel like I’m going in circles. I am discouraged. If I had to do it once more, I wouldn’t have become a police officer. If I might go back, I would do something else.”
This police officer from the Brussels-Midi zone shows us the quantity of bags of cannabis seized on the ground. ©cameriere ennio
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