Senior police officers are called many things by the men and women they lead. On a good day, garda bosses are referred to as the brass, the chiefs, the boys in the (Phoenix) Park. But on those more frequent occasions when rank-and-file officers feel betrayed or abandoned by their superiors, the terminology becomes much less respectful.

In the gardai, as in most modern police forces, the antipathy of frontline officers towards management is often bitter. From this perspective, the chasm between the led and the leaders is vast: on the ground, you have beat cops; at central command, dead-beat cops.

One term that’s never used with a straight face by gardai to describe senior officers is “the brains of the operation”.

It’s curious, therefore, that many in the media have chosen to characterise the large number of them currently taking early retirement as a “brain drain”.

If nothing else, this tells us whence concern about this supposed exodus of talent is coming.

Over the past year, there has been a sharp rise in the rate at which high-ranking gardai have handed in their badges before reaching the compulsory retirement age of 60. Like other public-sector employees, many senior gardai in their late fifites have been eager to leave before the December budget, which, they suspect, will introduce the taxing of retirement lump sums.

This suspicion is well-founded, as one of the central themes of the McCarthy report, which is expected to inform the budget, is the unsustainable cost of state pensions, gratuities and benefits. The axeman cometh, and gardai are experts at taking evasive action.

Nevertheless, it’s not clear that a shake-up in the force’s middle-aged middle-management is an unwelcome development. Garda promotion operates on the basis of seniority rather than merit, so the upper ranks aren’t exactly heaving with the brightest and best. On the contrary, time-servers, careerists and incompetents are just as likely to prosper as officers who’ve excelled themselves in the line of duty.

Moreover, inertia and complacency thrive in administrative cultures where initiative is discouraged, so the longer one spends immersed in such an environment, the more inert and complacent one becomes. As the myriad garda scandals have revealed, there are all too many middle-management officers who are adept at little other than buck-passing and turning of a blind eye.

By making an early exit, some of the more terminally institutionalised may free up places for younger officers with fresher ideas. Rather than a brain drain, the rush towards early retirement can consequently be viewed as a safety valve, creating space for the emergence of the more energetic new leadership the force urgently requires.

None of this is to deny that experience is the most valuable weapon with which any police officer can be armed. The early retirement of an increased number of experienced personnel will inevitably lead to a loss of collective knowledge and wisdom.

However, the scale of this loss is being exaggerated for propaganda purposes by the garda representative associations as they attempt to raise public alarm about proposed government cuts in garda pay and perks.

The reality is nowhere near as bleak as it is being presented by the garda unions and their media mouthpieces. Despite the early retirement rate, the force’s overall strength will be greater by the end of the year than it was last December, following a recruitment drive.

Meanwhile, the departure of so many officers in their late fifties is not that much of a shock to the system given that the retirement age was raised by three years to 60 as recently as 2006.

Retiring early from any job is a big step that is rarely inspired by financial considerations alone. If a police officer wants to leave, it is in nobody’s interest to coax him or her into staying. As veteran officers know well, even golden handcuffs eventually start to pinch.

Marathon men

This year’s marathon season has been my personal best. I spent the day of the Dublin Marathon watching DVDs, getting through the Generation Kill box set in one sitting. During last Sunday’s New York Marathon, meanwhile, I hit the wall early and abandoned a crowded Belfast shopping centre for the calmer environs of a crowded Belfast pub.

It’s important you’re told all this because what journalists do during big marathons has become a hot media topic. The Irish Times has carried several self-aggrandising accounts by reporters who’ve completed such events, as though their achievement was somehow more significant than that of other joggers.

No doubt these fleet-footed hacks would regard ostentatious boasting about my aversion to athleticism as a disgrace — but they’ll have to catch me to reproach me. I can’t run, but I can hide.

Media silence is bad news

With nothing else to worry their sleepy little heads, senators are hyperventilating about the media again.

The Second House is obsessed with the Fourth Estate, and few of its members can compose themselves for an afternoon’s slumber without first denouncing journalism.

Last week, senators raged at the “social damage” caused by media reportage of bad news.

Repeating his call for radio and TV stations to broadcast an uninterrupted half hour of good news every day, senate leader Donie Cassidy said the media should not anger the public with “programmes that will annoy them”. Evidence of government incompetence and politicians’ expenses should, apparently, be hushed up.

It’s untrue that journalists never deliver good news. Only a few weeks ago, the media reported Enda Kenny’s pledge to abolish the Seanad.

Clean up your act

Dublin 2 has become the backdrop for an unlikely outbreak of geopolitical conflict with news that the South African embassy has invoked diplomatic immunity in an employment-rights case taken against the ambassador by her former Ukrainian housekeeper.

Alarmingly, it seems such disputes are multiplying like dust mites. “We commonly come across complaints by domestic workers involving diplomatic employers,” said Siobhan O’Donoghue, director of the Migrant Rights Centre.

Ambassadors are supposed to be experts at keeping the peace. Are some creating disputes that the United Nations itself would struggle to sort out?

Cut off this trade

You can tell a lot about a nation by its contraband. A fortnight ago, the authorities seized Europe’s largest ever consignment of smuggled cigarettes. Last week, gardai impounded 7,000 Samurai swords during raids in Dublin. Health and safety, it seems, are not big priorities among those in the market for illegal imports.

Now, maybe there are legitimate reasons why a citizen would like a Samurai sword. Perhaps Ireland is rife with fans of Uma Thurman, above. Unfortunately, it’s likely that most of our 7,000 Samurai have more ignoble intentions. The street value of Samurai swords has rocketed since their supply was outlawed on September 1. In stark contrast to the weapons, prohibition is an extremely blunt instrument.

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