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The paradox is that British culture is obsessed with investigators, usually of murder; yet society has a chronic shortage of investigators, and those who find themselves responsible for an investigation shy away from it, or do it in a ham-fisted or outright unlawful way.
If we take as the most famous Englishman, Harry Potter, the second most famous is another fictional character, Sherlock Holmes. You can switch on a television without coming upon a detective series, usually set in the police (as itโs their job to investigate crime) or, like Holmes, a private investigator for hire (and part of the appeal is that the amateur does better than the professional); but seemingly any role or occupation is fodder. Take the series โHer Majesty the Queen Investigatesโ by SJ (Sophia) Bennett, that imagines that Queen Elizabeth II, even in old age, turns detective. Some at least of the titles nod at earlier works of detective or spy fiction (A Three Dog Problem, hinting at Conan Doyle; The Queen Who Came in from the Cold, John Le Carre). Any historical period, too, is fertile ground, no matter how incongruous. Medieval monks? Take your pick of The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco (filmed starring Sean Connery) or, if you prefer to stay British, Brother Cadfael, televised starting Derek Jaocbi. Is any time or personage too outlandish? Ug the Caveman solves who stole the last piece of woolly mammoth from the fire? The writer of humour Alan Coren once noted that the sure way to have a popular book was to call it Golfing for Cats and have a swastika on the cover (as he once published); he should have included detection (how about The Missing Stormtrooper: Hitler Investigates?!).
That shows an immense and never-ending appetite for detection. Maybe mere escapism; for most of us, we are at most annoyed by the mystery who has taken our lunch from the fridge in the office kitchen. That implies at least interest in the skill of investigation โ divining who has carried out some criminal act, despite the efforts of the criminal and associates, maybe everyone in the vicinity, to keep it hidden. Why then do institutions โ churches, the BBC, the National Health Service, to name only the largest, most respected or well resourced โ time and again show themselves so cack-handed at or uninterested in getting to the bottom of wrong-doing, carried out by insiders?
To name only a few of the well-known examples: Sir Jimmy Savile the abuser of young people; Dr Harold Shipman who murdered patients; and most recently, another abuser, John Smyth. An independent review found that the Church of Englandโs ineffective response to Smyth โamounted to a cover-upโ. It appears grotesque; a Christian church ought to be on the side of the weak and against wrong-doers; those in positions of responsibility, like the Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, ought to know that the buck stops with them and that (to quote from Welbyโs resignation statement) a โconspiracy of silenceโ will have consequences.
The only conclusion can be that something even more powerful is in play. That no matter what the institution, whichever religious denomination, team sport, charity, uniformed service or political party, when told about wrong-doing in its ranks, its impulse is to deny whatโs wrong in their midst, or even to ostracise those who have blown the whistle on wrong-doing that they have suffered inside the institution. Blowing the whistle, indeed is an interesting phrase; should it have to come to someone making a fuss? Hence those in the field prefer the term โspeaking upโ. More powerful than doing the right thing โ even if the institution stands for doing good, which presumably all do, if theyโre not outright criminal โ is self-interest; not rocking the boat; not sticking your neck out.
