Bringing law to a lawless land

By MARY-LOUISE O'CALLAGHAN

Brandishing spears and whooping a traditional cry, warriors dressed in nothing more than leaves and daubs of dye leapt on William Morrell within seconds of his setting foot in the Solomon Islands.

A century ago this may well have been fatal for the towering enforcer from Britain, but 25 years after the Solomons gained independence, the lanky Londoner's arrival on a warm afternoon in January was equally warmly welcomed.

For many Islanders who have been suffering for three years from the lawlessness since the coup in June 2000, Morrell represents a last hope that their nation's fortunes could be turned around with a touch of the authority they knew so well from colonial times.

For his part, the new police commissioner grinned broadly, his dignity intact, as the semi-naked youths hoisted him on their shoulders for the trip across the tarmac to the VIP lounge.

Now it seems that Morrell, 48, is to be hiked to even greater heights. The proposed Anzac intervention in the Solomons could find him in charge of a multi-national force and multi-million dollar effort aimed at returning the rule of law to what was once known as the Happy Isles.

"I feel a whole lot better thinking there might be an intervention," says Morrell.

He admits it has been a steep learning curve, despite being wined and dined in London and Brussels - his appointment is financed by the EU - and Canberra and Wellington.

"It was like a series of Last Suppers, really," his says, with characteristic self-deprecation. "Very senior people took me out for big meals and kept toasting my health. I was beginning to wonder if they thought I wasn't going to be coming back."

The good humour and easy-going manner belie the baptism of fire for this British career police officer who, within days of his arrival, was confronted with the tricky task of overseeing the demobilisation of hundreds of special constables sworn in and armed in the wake of the coup.

A 12-month stint in Kosovo in 1999, just weeks after hostilities had ended, establishing a multi-ethnic police school gave him some experience of working in difficult foreign climes, but nothing could prepare him for the shock of having one of his predecessors in the Solomons' post assassinated within days of his arrival.

On February 10 the Solomons' first indigenous police commissioner, Sir Frederick Soaki, was gunned down by a police officer in the force over which Morrell had just taken command.

"When people like Sir Fred are being killed, you see the hostility of what is going on. It is a difficult situation to be in.

"I felt very isolated and the officers here felt very threatened. People wouldn't come to my office. They wouldn't want to be seen speaking to me alone."

Although the officer charged with Sir Fred's death escaped within days from Honiara's main prison, Morrell has prevailed and believes he is making progress.

"I am getting a lot of good feedback and it is becoming apparent that a lot of officers just want to get on with their jobs.

"I can say openly now that to reform the force, I will need to get rid of at least 200 to 300 who just don't bother coming to work."

As Morrell pads around his new Solomons home on a breezy Saturday afternoon, dressed in a polo T-shirt and shorts, it is easy to see where such sangfroid might come from.

William and his wife Mary have been married for 27 years and are kindred spirits in that easy-going way that successful long-term couples have.

Their two-year stint in the Solomons is the realisation of plans made as newlyweds to one day travel and work abroad. The parents of two grown children, they say their Catholic faith is a vital component in their happy life.

"Mary and I are cradle Catholics," jokes Morrell, who usually goes to Mass at least twice a week. "Faith is very important. I suppose in a job like this which is pretty uncertain, trusting God is helpful on occasions," he says, with classic understatement.

Both Morrells drew on their faith in the days after Sir Fred's death and during their son's deployment to Iraq as a commando in the Royal Marines.

"I think one of the things I like about this country is the openness about religion," says Morrell. "When I have my meetings we start with a prayer and it is natural to do it.

"In England people are embarrassed about their faith and don't much talk about it."

Morrell's most recent work has been as chief superintendent in Manchester's specialist operations branch.

He was the newly appointed security co-ordinator involved in planning for last year's Manchester Commonwealth Games when the World Trade Centre towers went down in September 2001.

"You don't really realise the significance immediately, but then you start thinking through all the issues about attacks by light planes and about suicide bombers," he says.

In the end, the Manchester decisions, like any good policing, were based on "using your experience, judgment and intelligence assessments".

"You try to put in place certain provisions to reduce the opportunity for that particular type of attack. We did take some measures but I don't want to say what they were."

Morrell has taken a similarly cautious approach in his first six months in the Solomons.

"When you first land in an environment like this you don't know what the repercussions will be. You don't know who the power brokers are. If you make a decision too early and you can't enforce it, then you lose credibility, so I've been careful not to do that."

Asked what he will do if Australia and New Zealand go ahead with the proposed armed intervention and he finds himself with 2000 expatriate police and possibly soldiers at his disposal, Morrell pauses.

"I am being very careful not to raise expectations until I actually see people on the ground and agreements in place. It can't be a quick fix. It has got to be for the long haul."