The future of non-crime hate incidents has become one of the most divisive questions in modern policing. For nearly two decades, British officers have been asked to record incidents motivated by hostility or prejudice, even when they do not cross the threshold of criminality. Supporters say the policy provides valuable intelligence to prevent more serious harm. Critics, however, argue that it undermines free speech and drags officers into policing opinions instead of crimes.
Now, His Majesty’s Chief Inspector of Constabulary, Sir Andy Cooke, has said the practice is “no longer required,” sparking fresh debate about whether the system strikes the right balance between public safety and freedom of expression.
Are police recording opinions instead of tackling crime?
Non-crime hate incidents were first introduced in 2005 after the Stephen Lawrence inquiry, which concluded that the police had failed to properly recognise patterns of racist hostility. Under Home Office guidance, an NCHI must be logged if someone perceives an act to be motivated by prejudice against characteristics such as race, gender, religion, disability, or sexuality — even when no crime has been committed.
For some, this is a sensible precaution. For others, it has blurred the line between crime and personal offence.
Sir Andy is among those who now question whether the policy serves its original purpose. “We need to separate the offensive from the criminal,” he said. “At times, we must allow people to speak openly without fear that their opinion will put them on the wrong side of the law.”
His comments highlight a concern echoed by many frontline officers: that they are spending time logging perceived slights rather than focusing on real crimes such as burglary, assault, or fraud. Read another article on Five-year-old boy murder
How does free speech fit into the debate?
The issue is not just about police resources but about principle. Britain has long prided itself on free expression, but the rise of online platforms has made the boundaries between lawful opinion, harmful speech, and criminal incitement increasingly blurred.
Sir Andy believes the current system does not always allow for “discretion and common sense.” He has argued that intelligence could still be gathered without the public fearing their names will be recorded by police for making controversial remarks.
Sir Mark Rowley, Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, agreed that change is overdue. “The policies that lead officers to make these decisions are wrong,” he said. “We need to pull those policies back to give officers more discretion.”
For critics, the problem is straightforward: non-crime hate incidents risk criminalising thought and turning police into arbiters of social debate.
What high-profile cases have intensified the row?
The arrest of Graham Linehan, co-creator of the sitcom Father Ted, put the issue back in the spotlight. Linehan was arrested on suspicion of inciting violence over posts he made on X. While police confirmed this was not recorded as a non-crime hate incident, the case nevertheless prompted outrage about the policing of online expression.
“Was it a great public optic? No, it wasn’t,” Sir Andy admitted. “Lessons I’m sure will be learned.”
Linehan himself insists he does not regret his posts and has announced plans to sue the police for wrongful arrest and false imprisonment. His case has become a rallying point for free speech advocates who argue that Britain is drifting toward a culture of censorship enforced by law enforcement.
Last year, another storm erupted when journalist Allison Pearson said she had been contacted by police about one of her tweets. She believed it had been flagged as a non-crime hate incident. Although Essex Police later said this was not the case, the controversy underlined public suspicion that officers were becoming entangled in matters of opinion.
Would scrapping NCHIs undermine public safety?
While critics of the system argue that it chills free expression, supporters believe abolishing non-crime hate incidents would be a mistake. They point out that hostility often begins with words before escalating into threats or violence.
Some politicians have warned that scrapping the practice would prevent police from monitoring dangerous patterns of behaviour. Earlier this year, a government minister dismissed Conservative proposals to end the recording of NCHIs as “unworkable,” saying it would block officers from tracking antisemitism, Islamophobia, and other forms of rising hatred.
From this perspective, NCHIs are not about criminalising speech but about gathering intelligence. They allow police to identify trends and intervene early, especially in an era when online spaces can radicalise individuals rapidly.
Can the police afford to keep logging NCHIs?
Beyond the cultural debate lies a practical one. Police resources are stretched thin. Forces are facing significant workforce shortages, rising workloads, and declining public confidence. Officers say they are under pressure to prioritise crimes that directly harm victims, such as robbery and domestic violence, while still meeting bureaucratic requirements to record NCHIs.
Sir Andy’s State of Policing report painted a sobering picture. While acknowledging that police and government are working hard to rebuild trust, he emphasised that reform must be properly funded. “It will be a missed opportunity if it’s not properly funded from the start,” he warned.
In other words, even if non-crime hate incidents provide some intelligence value, the question remains whether the police can realistically afford to spend time recording them.
What comes next for the policy?
The College of Policing is currently reviewing whether non-crime hate incidents remain “fit for purpose.” With pressure mounting from the inspectorate, senior officers, and political voices, change appears increasingly likely.
Reform could mean scrapping the practice altogether, narrowing the categories under which NCHIs are recorded, or creating a separate, less formal system for gathering intelligence on prejudice.
Whatever the outcome, the challenge will be finding a balance that protects both free speech and public safety.
The bigger question: where should the line be drawn?
The debate over non-crime hate incidents cuts to the heart of how modern societies handle speech, prejudice, and harm. Should police step in early to monitor hostility, even when it falls short of criminality? Or should they leave opinions to be debated in the public square, intervening only when threats or violence occur?
For now, the system remains in place, but pressure for change is growing. As Sir Mark Rowley put it: “We need more flexibility.”
The future of NCHIs will not just shape the police’s role in British life — it will also help define the balance between liberty and security in the years ahead.
