Viral videos of police action spread quickly. Without thinking people react. They make judgments, they decide. Police officers are all too aware of the realities of their actions being filmed but are officers aware of how their early actions could make a difference to their safety, and to trust in the profession of policing.
A video appears online. Thirty seconds. A few million views. Thousands of comments and within hours the verdict is in.
The police are racist.
The police are biased.
The suspect is innocent.
The officers should be dismissed.
No investigation has concluded. No witness statements have been heard. No body-worn video has been reviewed. Yet the public conversation has already moved from “What happened?” to “I knew this all along.” The recent footage from Birmingham, showing two female police officers arresting a white man following an altercation involving two black men, is the latest example. Before the full circumstances were publicly established, the clip was being used to support claims of “two-tier policing” and wider arguments about race, fairness and policing.
Perhaps a better and simpler question would be. What don’t we know yet? That question is becoming increasingly rare and for many a question they won’t ask.
A clip is evidence, but it is not all the evidence.
Videos are incredibly powerful. They have exposed corruption, challenged injustice and held organisations to account. But they also have limitations. A phone records only what is in front of it. It tells us almost nothing about what happened before recording started, what officers had been told, what officers saw, what witnesses reported, or what risks officers were managing. A camera captures a moment. An investigation uncovers a story. Those are not the same thing.
The problem is that our brains dislike uncertainty. When information is missing, we instinctively fill the gaps. Usually with assumptions that fit our existing beliefs. If you believe policing is institutionally unfair, you are likely to interpret the clip through that lens. If you believe Britain has “two-tier policing”, you will probably see confirmation of that belief. If you see an opportunity to garner support you will drive your narrative. Same footage. Different conclusions.
Psychologists call this confirmation bias. We don’t simply see reality; we interpret it through our existing worldview. Social media then accelerates the problem. Algorithms reward certainty, outrage and emotion, not patience or nuance. Let’s face it all of those making these assumptions either follow a certain political direction or are social media accounts that may not actually exist. Without a counterbalance they create confusion and division. In recent years this approach has been used to drive a narrative without fear of accountability. It’s as though you can throw the grenade and escape the carnage created.
When politics fills the gaps
The danger becomes even greater when incomplete information is used to advance political narratives. Across the political spectrum, incidents involving the police are increasingly seized upon before investigations are complete. The Birmingham footage quickly became another symbol in wider debates about race, immigration and policing. Some politicians and commentators on the political right presented it as evidence of “two-tier policing” before all the facts were publicly known.
The political left has been guilty of the same tendency in other cases, reaching immediate conclusions about police racism or excessive force based on partial evidence. Different politics, same mistake. When we use incomplete evidence to support beliefs we already hold, we stop searching for truth and start searching for validation. That is dangerous for policing. It is dangerous for democracy and it is dangerous for communities.
We’ve been here before
The Manchester Airport incident in 2024 offered a powerful reminder. Initial footage appeared to show an armed officer stamping on a man lying on the ground. Public outrage followed immediately. Many declared the officer guilty before investigators had even begun their work. Later evidence revealed that officers had previously been violently assaulted and that a female officer had suffered serious injuries before the viral footage began.
The original clip wasn’t fake. It was incomplete. That distinction matters. None of this means officers should escape scrutiny. It means scrutiny should be based on all the evidence, not simply the most viral thirty seconds. Context is not an excuse. Context is how justice works. Context keeps us safe.
But there is another lesson
While the public debate focuses on what happened after the incident, policing should focus on what happened before it, because every viral clip has a backstory. Not simply about the incident itself, but about the culture surrounding it.
Every interaction is influenced by habits.
Every habit is shaped by culture.
Every culture is shaped by colleagues.
This is where active bystandership becomes one of policing’s greatest strengths.
The public sees thirty seconds. Colleagues often see thirty days.
Members of the public usually encounter officers at a single moment. Colleagues see something entirely different. They notice when stress is building. When patience is wearing thin. When someone starts speaking differently to members of the public.
When frustration replaces curiosity. When sarcasm replaces empathy. When shortcuts become normal. These aren’t misconduct. They’re warning signs and warning signs are where culture either succeeds or fails.
Peer intervention is not about catching bad officers
Too often, peer intervention is associated with exposing wrongdoing. That is important but the most effective interventions happen long before misconduct occurs. They sound like:
“I’ve got this one if you need a minute.”
“Can we slow things down?”
“You don’t seem yourself today.”
“Let’s think about another approach.”
“How do you think that came across?”
Small conversations. Quiet interventions. Professional care. Most of these moments will never appear in newspapers and that’s precisely the point. The greatest success of active bystandership is that nothing happens. No complaint. No misconduct. investigation. No viral clip. No damaged public confidence. No devastated colleague wondering how their career unravelled.
Professional standards begin with professional friendships.
Professional Standards Departments investigate what has already gone wrong. Peers have the opportunity to stop things going wrong in the first place. That requires something deeper than compliance. It requires courage. Not the courage to confront violent offenders. The courage to challenge friends. That may be one of the hardest things we ever ask of colleagues. Yet it is one of the most important because intervention says something powerful: “I care too much about you to stay silent.”
Silence is easy. Intervention is leadership. It’s courageous. It’s doing the right thing and doing it consistently. That’ how cultures are built, through consistency.
Character spreads
One of the greatest misconceptions in policing is that culture belongs to leaders.
It doesn’t. Culture belongs to everyone. Every experienced officer teaches new officers what is normal. Sometimes without saying a word. Respect spreads. Professionalism spreads. Kindness spreads but so do cynicism, contempt and indifference. People don’t simply follow policies. They follow people. As the saying goes, culture is far more “do as I do” than “do as I say.”
If experienced officers normalise intervention, younger officers will too. If experienced officers normalise silence, silence becomes the culture.
The strongest teams are not the quietest teams
Many organisations mistake harmony for health. They believe good teams don’t challenge one another. Research tells us the opposite. High-performing teams challenge because they trust. They intervene because they care. They create psychological safety where people can question decisions without fear of humiliation. That isn’t weakness, it’s professionalism. The best police teams are not those that never make mistakes. They are the teams that refuse to let colleagues drift towards one.
The missing thirty seconds
Perhaps the biggest lesson from every viral policing clip is not about social media at all.
It is about what happened before the camera started recording. Before the confrontation, before the arrest, before the public commentary. Were there opportunities to communicate differently? To slow things down? To support a stressed colleague? To intervene? Often the answer will be no. Sometimes events unfold too quickly, but often the missing thirty seconds began weeks earlier, in a briefing room, a patrol car or a conversation between colleagues. That is where culture lives. That is where trust is built and that is where active bystandership makes its greatest difference.
In a world increasingly willing to judge policing on thirty seconds of footage, policing must become even more committed to the conversations that happen before those thirty seconds ever occur. While the public may only see the clip, colleagues have the opportunity to shape the story long before anyone presses record.
Perhaps that is the challenge for all of us. Before we rush to judge a video online, we should ask, “What don’t I know yet?” Before we watch a colleague struggle, we should ask, “How can I help now?” One question seeks truth. The other prevents harm. Both build the kind of policing, and the kind of society, that is stronger than any thirty-second clip.
This week a report into police leadership in the UK will call for a reset. To an extent I agree. Whilst policing has in the main great people, its challenge isn’t to simply change its people, it’s more about activating them to prevent harm. That isn’t simply a job for senior leaders, it’s a job for all officers. When we affirm trust in each other to act, everyone benefits.
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