The Brotherhood by Stephen Knight Page A

not without foundation, was right: membership of one of these fraternities [i.e. secret societies] was an advantage especially for those seeking promotion, for defaulters in disciplinary cases, and when top brass belonged to your Lodge, who could go wrong?
    Freemason PC Robert Glencross of Fife replied thus to Sergeant Welling's criticisms:
    There are Freemasons in every trade and not only the Police and there could be those who have reached high ranks in those fields. If junior members of the service feel that the road to success is paved with handshakes they are in for a big disappointment. Among any group of people some will take advantage of whatever benefits are going but there are others who further the aim of the group itself, and one seldom hears from them.
    While I am not at liberty to divulge the form of oath taken by Freemasons it in no way conflicts with an officer's duty . . . Freemasonry is not so secret that it is impossible to find out who its members are. Its secrets are there for anyone to learn who wants to join.
    This last comment holds true for the Mafia and the Ku Klux Klan, of course, so does not answer Welling's point about the secrecy of Masonry breeding suspicion among the uninitiated. And as for finding out who its members are, a non-Mason has only to ask for help at United Grand Lodge to be told, 'It is not our policy to make membership lists of our Lodges available to enquirers.' (See Epilogue, page 307.)
    But one point made by PC Glencross, and by a multitude of Masons before and since, is true up to a point: the oaths, or obligations to use the masonic term, if properly interpreted, should not create the kind of dual allegiance most 'profane' policemen are concerned about. (See Appendix 3.)
    Eight weeks after the publication of the original article, a letter appeared from a former police officer, a non-Mason of Malvern Link, Worcestershire. 'The letters on Freemasonry in the service filled me with remorse,' began ex-Detective Chief Inspector Ralph Jones ironically.
    When I joined a large force before the war three-quarters of divisional Superintendents and above belonged to the Craft, a position that still obtains. I see now that most of their appointments only appeared bizarre, but were really based on merit.
    The tradesmen who whispered down the years, 'Met your Super last night. Don't you want your stripes?' were having me on .. . What shamed me was the revelation that all those old mates who climbed like blue meteors from PC to the top in quick time just happened to belong to the Craft but were in fact devoted to Christianity and charitable works. They could have fooled me.
    As a practising Christian with a son an Anglican priest, I doubt if I have quite got the moral fibre to qualify. But now I realize that the parcelling out of promotions and the dispensing of rough justice on delinquents behind closed doors is merely benevolent paternalism. Long may it reign.
    The fact that the Police Federation was dominated by Freemasons did not inhibit the editor of the Federation's journal Police from publishing this complaint from Metropolitan Police Sergeant Robin Kirby in 1977:
    All my service, I have been aware that it is a distinct advantage to be a Freemason. Doors are opened, rank structures are broken down and men normally destined to perform shiftwork all their service are spirited on to 9 A.M . to 5 P.M. jobs, often never to return to the mundane vulgarity of early, late and nights.
    The following issue of Police contained one of the most serious allegations about Freemasonry in the police to have appeared in print up to that time. Blair Watt, a Thames Valley PC for sixteen years, wrote:
    I speak from personal experience of no less than three occasions on which I have been approached, and even threatened, by more senior officers who sought to influence my dealing with fellow Freemasons and relatives of fellow Freemasons, with regard to offences committed by them.
    Watt said later, Tm either