ANDREW COSTER Faith in the force
Andrew Coster is carrying a heavy burden. His charge to lead a police force big on compassion and integrity weighs heavily on his shoulders. ‘‘I have a son who wants to join the police. He wants to do what his dad has done.
‘‘The question I ask myself is, will police be the organisation that gives him the kind of leadership that he needs to thrive?
‘‘Police can be an incredibly strong uniform culture . . . but it’s just so crucial that people can bring themselves and their life’s experience to work because the strength of our organisation will be its diversity.
‘‘We have to take care not to squash that out of people. That’s the stuff I carry very personally. That’s such a big responsibility as commissioner.’’
In among the police-speak and institutional jargon, Coster offers many a heartfelt monologue on his vision for the police force of 14,000 he will head for the next five years as commissioner.
He is very much the new guard. At 44 he is younger than many of those he leads.
But he’s familiar with the tensions of being a young boss to older and often longer-serving personnel. ‘‘It’s been the story of my career,’’ he says from his central Wellington home. ‘‘I have always supervised people older than me. I am accustomed to that.
‘‘But people respect good leadership and I have absolutely no concerns about my ability to provide the leadership required. I don’t mean to blow my own trumpet, but I have done that in other roles very successfully.’’
That might sound arrogant, but the way Coster delivers the line is more confidence than conceit.
Coster plunged into the role of police commissioner part way into level 4 lockdown. His bubble consisted of his wife of 20 years, three sons, aged 15, 14 and 10, and Bennie the bunny rabbit who thinks he’s a cat.
‘‘We are very fortunate to have everything we need. Our home is not overcrowded. I think it must have been incredibly hard for some families living in more crowded conditions who survive normally by living a chunk of their lives outside the home.
‘‘We have had nothing to complain about.’’
The hardships many New Zealanders face were a real shock to Coster when he entered the force 23 years ago. Growing up in a smart suburb in Auckland, he simply wasn’t exposed to the poverty and violence kinds of things that occur in some people’s lives, the poverty, the violence, he says.
‘‘My first few weeks when I started out at Ma¯ ngere were incredibly depressing – to have this realisation that I had had no idea that this was what life was like for some people, living in homes where there was barely any food in the fridge, homes that were absolutely sparse, with none of the bare essentials, kids living in circumstances where violence was the norm.
‘‘Suddenly getting this insight as to what causes some people to end up where they end up – it was such a big contrast to my own experience.’’
His was a privileged background. His father was a GP, now dean of the health faculty at Victoria University, and his mother a nurse.
He had never considered a career as a police officer.On leaving school he became a telephone salesman. But after only a few months he realised it was not fulfilling enough, particularly from a faith perspective.
Coster is a committed Christian and his beliefs have anchored and directed him his whole life.
Policing was a very definite and urgent calling, he says. ‘‘I couldn’t put my finger on why I was so dissatisfied, but I felt very clearly that I should go to Police College.’’
Those early days doing the more frontline work could make you tough, hard, if you let it, he says.
It’s easy when dealing with crime every day to fall into a particular mindset. To form a stereotype of what an offender looks like, who an offender is, and to treat everyone that way.
‘‘We have a real balancing act. We have to hold offenders to account. That’s the point of a justice system.
’’But somehow in the mix of that we have to bear in mind that it’s in no-one’s interests for people who can be reformed in some way to miss the opportunity for that because that only makes for future victimisation ofother people.
‘‘So the way we think about the people we deal with needs to reflect the understanding that there’s always hope.
‘‘There’s almost always a story behind the person who ends up in a particular situation and if we can understand the story and understand how they got there we might have a chance of helping them to end up somewhere else.’’
You get a strong sense Coster has the courage of his convictions. His palpable confidence comes from God.
His faith is tremendously important to him. ‘‘It gives me a real strength and confidence to do what I believe is right.
‘‘My values and the way I live them out in this organisation are anchored in something that is very personal andimportant. It’s not just about following a set of corporate values, it’s about how I like to live, how I believe I should live.’’
After a stint on the beat he joined the CIB and qualified as a detective. In the course of this work he went to court, where he saw Crown prosecutors at work.
Impressed by what he saw, he studied for a law degree at Auckland University. He eventually became a Crown prosecutor, but it all felt too far removed from the reality of policing and he was back in blue within the year. ‘‘I like to be closer to the public service aspect of policing, the real aspect of policing.’’
His career trajectory was swift – area commander in Auckland City Central, district commander of the Southern Police District, deputy commissioner.
His legal background landed him a stint with the Ministry of Justice working on an overhaul of the court system. He helped shape the reform of firearms laws after the mosque attacks. Probably his proudest work to date.
Coster took the reins a few weeks before lockdown as his predecessor, Mike Bush, was already involved in the Government’s Covid-19 work.
He had been something of a surprise choice, with many expecting fellow deputy Mike Clement to get the gig.
With Covid-19, he was working 14-hour days, but that’s not much different to the 11-12 hour shifts he usually puts in.
When he does switch off work he likes to ride his motorbikes. There’s a Ducati 996, and here he searches his phone for a photo to show. It’s a rather racy red number. ‘‘I take it to the race track because I can’t do what it’s capable of on the road. It wouldn’t be careerenhancing.’’
Dirt biking is another hobby. He’s fallen off heaps. Other than that, it’s family, the church and the pub that occupy his time when he’s not on the job.
It’s hard to imagine there’s time for any of that when he talks of making New Zealand the safest country in the world.
It’s possible, he says. While in charge of the Southern Police District, he helped bring about a huge reduction in crime there, earning it the status of safest district in the country.
‘‘It’s not pie in the sky. But for us to be the safest country we have to look at where the inequalities lie in our communities and how we ensure there’s a genuine opportunity for people to thrive.
‘‘We have to understand what we need to break the cycle of family harm. We have statistics we need to think very hard about – suicide, particularly youth suicide.
‘‘During Covid-19 we have shown what a small, motivated country with good government and good public engagement can achieve.’’
He believes tackling issues from within the force – sexual harassment, institutional racism and bias, bullying – is all about leadership.
As policing has become more complex you can’t have a single person directing traffic. Each member has to be able to think for themselves, understand their purpose, understand why they’re in the police, he says.
‘‘. . . I am concerned that we need to keep moving and providing the leadership a modern police service requires.’’
It’s a big job. He feels the weight of the tasks ahead. But he knows God and his son are counting on him.
‘‘The way we think about the people we deal with needs to reflect the understanding that there’s always hope.’’