...in peacekeeping, and throughout my career, these experiences taught me that reconciliation is not an abstract concept. It is a process that begins with acknowledging the dignity of every person and recognizing that sustainable peace depends upon fairness, inclusion, and respect for human rights. Whether supporting survivors of violence, mentoring police officers, or working with international partners, I've learned that meaningful progress is achieved one relationship, one conversation, and one act of service at a time.

I have been privileged to serve not only in Canada but also in international peace-support missions where I witnessed both the devastating consequences of conflict and the extraordinary resilience of people working to rebuild their communities, relationships, processes, trust, and stability. Those experiences continue to shape my understanding of leadership, justice, reconciliation, and service.

In 2009 and again in 2010, I served in Africa as a contractor with the Pearson Peacekeeping Centre, first supporting the United Nations Mission in Sudan (UNMIS), then the United Nations–African Union Hybrid Operation in Darfur (UNAMID). My role was to assist with the development and delivery of training for United Nations Police officers tasked with investigating sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV). Working alongside police officers from Canada and various other parts of the world, I helped strengthen investigative skills while promoting victim-centred approaches grounded in professionalism, accountability, and respect for human rights.

The work was both challenging and rewarding, yet deeply humbling. I met survivors whose courage in the face of unimaginable hardship left a lasting impression on me. I also saw firsthand how effective policing, grounded in compassion and integrity, can help restore confidence in communities emerging from conflict.

Those experiences assisted in challenging my once rather naive belief that justice was largely about ensuring that society's members generally remained compliant, through the enforcement of laws - while that is a large element of policing, that work supports a higher threshold - it is about protecting the dignity and rights of every individual, especially those who are most vulnerable. Many, through no fault of their own, required a level of allyship and advocacy in supporting them against incredible odds.

A few years later, I had the honour of serving as the Canadian Contingent Commander with the European Union Coordinating Office for Palestinian Police Support (EUPOL COPPS) in the West Bank. This posting was a secondment from my organization, Thunder Bay Police Service, a municipal police service in northwestern Ontario, Canada that is a partner agency with the RCMP International Peace Operations Branch. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police coordinates Canada's Policing response to security sector reform around the world. Working within a multinational mission alongside colleagues from Europe, Canada, and the Middle East, I supported efforts as a Specialist Police Advisor leading the mission's training team with the high level objective of strengthening the Palestinian Civil Police with reform and development and to strengthen and support the Palestinian Criminal Justice System. At a more ground level view, our task was to promote and develop a professional  police response that would contribute to the development of accountable public safety services.

Here is a link to a primer on the conflict that provides a macro view that, I believe is reasonably balanced.

EUPOL COPPS is as a real an example as there is of building stable, civil institutions. We were headquartered in Ramallah, the West Bank, in an unarmed civilian mission assisting the Palestinian Authority in reforming its security and justice sectors to lay the groundwork for a future, sustainable Palestinian state. 

A central challenge was ensuring that the two primary divisions of the mission - Security Sector Reform and Justice - were not operating as separate streams of expertise, but as complementary parts of a functioning criminal justice system. The Security Sector Reform team focused on strengthening the Palestinian Civil Police through improvements in organizational structure, professional standards, human rights, accountability, investigation, and public safety. The Justice team worked with the prosecution and courts to strengthen the legal and judicial processes that followed police intervention. For these reforms to have practical meaning, however, the two functions had to be directly connected. 

Police officers needed to understand the evidentiary and procedural requirements expected by prosecutors and courts; prosecutors needed confidence that investigations were conducted professionally, lawfully, and in accordance with established standards; and the judiciary needed to be able to rely on the integrity of both processes. The objective was therefore not simply to improve policing or judicial administration independently, but to establish a coherent continuum of justice in which a police investigation could move seamlessly from the initial complaint, through investigation and arrest, to prosecution and judicial oversight. Achieving that required shared planning, common standards, cross-functional training, regular communication, and an understanding that each component of the system was dependent upon the effectiveness of the others. In practical terms, a professional police service could only be effective if its work could withstand prosecutorial and judicial scrutiny, while meaningful judicial oversight could only occur when the police investigations entering the system were competent, lawful, properly documented, and respectful of human rights.

Ultimately, the objective extended well beyond strengthening the police and judicial institutions themselves. It was about creating a system that citizens could trust - a system in which individuals and communities could have confidence that the law would be applied fairly, that police officers would be accountable for their actions, and that arrests and investigations would be subject to meaningful prosecutorial and judicial oversight. It was about giving ordinary citizens confidence that their institutions would protect them, treat them with dignity, and provide a fair avenue for resolving grievances and addressing crime. It was also about demonstrating to neighbouring communities and to the international community that Palestine could develop and sustain professional, accountable institutions. 

A functioning criminal justice system extended far beyond the police station or courtroom. Its development, supported by international assistance and cooperation, depended on trust—trust built when institutions demonstrated that they could operate reliably according to established standards and, to the greatest extent possible, hold themselves accountable.

In this sense, police and judicial reform were not ends in themselves, but essential building blocks for establishing the credibility, legitimacy, and public trust required of a society governed by the rule of law. Success would therefore be measured not simply by better-trained police officers or more efficient courts, but by whether citizens could trust that the law would protect them, neighbouring countries could have confidence that disputes would be managed through legitimate institutions, and international partners could see Palestine developing the capacity to maintain order, uphold human rights, and govern through the rule of law.

That was the larger purpose behind the work: building competent institutions worthy of trust. The logic of the work extended far beyond the training of a single police officer.

But that's were it all began - with the individual.

A police officer who understands the law, respects human rights, conducts a competent investigation, treats people with dignity, and understands that the authority to exercise police powers carries with it a corresponding responsibility for accountability is the foundation of a professional police service.

But one professional police officer cannot transform an institution.

The next step was therefore institutional reform: creating an organization with clear structures, professional standards, effective leadership, appropriate training, transparent policies, accountable decision-making, and systems capable of supporting its members to perform their responsibilities lawfully and effectively. The objective was to move beyond individual competence and create a police institution that could consistently produce and sustain professional behaviour, regardless of who happened to occupy a particular position.

From there, the logic extended to sector reform.

A police service does not operate in isolation. Its effectiveness depends upon its relationship with prosecutors, courts, corrections, government, oversight bodies, and the broader justice and security architecture. A competent investigation is of limited value if evidence cannot be properly presented to prosecutors; a strong prosecution is undermined if investigations are unreliable; and a judicial system cannot provide meaningful oversight if the institutions feeding cases into it do not operate according to law and established standards. The objective therefore became a functioning justice and security sector in which the component parts understood their respective responsibilities, communicated with one another, and operated within a common framework of law, accountability, human rights, and professional standards.

And from there, the logic extended again - to national reform.

A professional police service strengthens the institution. A functioning justice and security sector strengthens the state. Strong and accountable national institutions strengthen the relationship between citizens and their government. That relationship is ultimately the foundation of public confidence and legitimacy. For a citizen, the measure of national reform is not found in an organizational chart or a policy document. It is found in what happens when they need help. Can they call the police and expect a professional response? Can they report a crime and trust that it will be investigated fairly? Can they expect prosecutors and courts to operate independently and according to law? Can they challenge the actions of those exercising state authority and expect meaningful accountability? If the answer to those questions is yes, then institutional reform has begun to translate into something tangible in the life of an ordinary person.

The same principle applies beyond the country's borders. A nation whose police, justice, and security institutions operate professionally and accountability becomes a more credible partner to its neighbours and to the international community. Other governments, international organizations, and development partners can have greater confidence that agreements will be honoured, assistance will be used responsibly, disputes can be addressed through legitimate institutions, and public authority will be exercised within the rule of law.

That is why a functional police training academy mattered.

We were not simply teaching recruits how to investigate a crime, write a report, make an arrest, or conduct themselves professionally.

We were contributing to the development of individual officers who would become part of an institution; an institution that would become part of a broader justice and security sector; a sector that would contribute to the development of credible national institutions; and, ultimately, a national system in which citizens could have confidence that their country was capable of governing through the rule of law.

The progression was simple, even if the work was anything but: One officer. One institution. One sector. One nation. Each depended upon the one before it.

And each, ultimately, existed for the same reason: to create a society in which people could live with greater safety, dignity, justice, and confidence in the institutions entrusted to serve them, and it started with training that officer at a police training facility that had yet to open. 

And very simply stated, how you get to a solution, in the small and big things, matters. 

Living and working in the region provided an invaluable opportunity to better understand the history, cultures, and aspirations of the people who call it home. It also reinforced an important lesson: lasting peace cannot be achieved through institutions alone. It is built through trust, dialogue, mutual respect, and a shared commitment to justice.

My training team did something that was overdue - we buckled down, got to work, and were responsible for the opening of JPTC, the Jericho Police Training Centre, which was subsequently renamed the Palestine College for Police Sciences. That was our mission.

Working with an international team of highly qualified and dedicated professionals in Palestine was not without its challenges.

Our team was incredibly driven to get the training academy open. Without attributing blame, the level of delay- both internal to the mission and externally, in managing the affairs of interagency interoperability - was at a level I had not encountered before.

In short, opening the academy was an objective that had been frustrated within the police advisory section of the mission for a significant period of time. I was given very specific direction by the Head of Mission, Henrik Malmquist, delivered through the Chief of Staff, British Police Superintendent Timothy Shilton. Tim did not mince words.

"It's simple, Lorne - get the school open and functional."

Message received.

The work itself required patience, diplomacy, persistence, and an enormous amount of drive from the team I had been assigned.

RCMP Sergeant Cris Gastaldo, another Canadian who deployed about a month after me, became my confidant, sounding board, and roommate. Chris was a prince of a guy and someone I could rely on completely. His work at the grassroots level - where the metal hit the meat - was exemplary. Ten hours a day, for months, working creating and transcribing lesson plans. His efforts were such they were worthy of my commendation to his superiors with the Mounties.

Peter Heepen, a German, was a wonderful man who served as my second-in-command on the training team, brought a level of humour we all enjoyed. Peter saw and built systems with trademark German efficiency. He had previous EU Mission experience and he helped me navigate a complex slow and devastating detailed driven system.  He also, as a German,  had the ability to speak German and worked closely and delivered quality messaging and reassurances to a fellow countryman who was Head of the Police Advisory section.  This was fortuitous as The Head of the Police Advisory Section reported to Tim Shilston, who was chomping at the bit for results.

Luc Van den Eynde, a Belgian, possessed incredible tactical skills. He was one of those people who, when driving a vehicle, could make you swear he had somehow managed to suspend the laws of and gravity and repealed the laws of physics. His expertise also transcended to self defence, VIP protection, firearms training and all sorts of wonderful practical hard skills that are often mistaken for the nuts and bolts of police training, that are much easier to understand than concepts. Luc understood what we were doing and spoke the language of operational expertise which was extremely valuable and kept our Palestinian counterparts on point when they were looking for basic material things. 

And then there was Ivo Marussi, a bubbly, outgoing Italian colleague with whom, sadly, I have since lost contact.

We set out to meet the objective under a simple mantra:

"Work hard and play hard."

Under the direction of UNOPS Engineer, Jim Galloway - a Scot from Glasgow who has become a lifelong friend - UNOPS built the residence, gymnasium (that was financially supported by Canada) , auditorium, food services, classroom, scenario and administrative buildings - twenty-six buildings in total.

Our primary concern was recruit training as we had been informed,  that is where the greatest need  existed. We set out to refine and ended up completely revamping a process that would take an untrained civilian on day one and produce a sworn, fully qualified police officer six months later. 

While the training plan was coming together, we also set out to develop an operational plan that linked all of the ancillary elements required to make the training facility function efficiently for faculty, staff, and students. We started with a blank sheet of paper and, hypothetically, worked through everything that would be required from the day the first student arrived until the end of a six-month training cycle.

The list was extensive. It included elements of hotel and restaurant management, a registrars office, administrative services, kit stores, transportation, weapons safety, cleaning contracts, site safety and security, computer support, and the creation of a functioning library. We had to consider the mundane alongside the critical: how students would be transported, how equipment would be issued and accounted for, how the facility would be cleaned and maintained, and even how we would ensure that something as simple as toilet paper was available when it was needed. There was also a process for preparing personnel for the possibility of an armed encounter with Israeli security forces, which remained a very real operational consideration.

Our first meeting with the school's command staff and the Deputy Head of Mission introduced them to the concept of business casing. To make the point, we used the rather humorous example of toilet paper. It was a calculated joke, but it worked. It broke the ice and demonstrated that successful operations depended not only on the big-ticket items, but on understanding and planning for every small requirement that kept an organization functioning.

A full review of the school's daily requirements produced an immense document. It became a practical starting point and gave the director something tangible to work with as we began our discussions about how the school would actually function.

All of this was happening while managing the complexities of travel in an occupied territory, including navigating the various checkpoints - an issue worthy of an entire discussion in and of itself.

Then there were the delivery delays. As the Israelis had no trust of the Palestinians, everything was delayed. The simplest of items were often held up by the Israeli authorities who expressed their standard concern - it became an ongoing response that items crossing the border would be used for terrorist activity.  They vetted everything entering the Palestinian territories.  An order of notebooks - an essential item in every police officer's toolkit - was delayed for almost five months. These were the regular, daily annoyances.

Then there were the reminders that we were working in the midst of an ongoing conflict. There were regular flyovers by Israeli Air Force jets. On occasion, they would approach the JPTC at what appeared to be less than 100 feet above the ground, reach the training facility, point the nose of the McDonnell Douglas F-4E Phantom II almost straight into the sky, and then engage the afterburners. Windows rattled, Dust flew. Car alarms went off. 

There was no explanation offered to us. While we got used to these demonstrations of military power on ground, I still get jumpy when military aircraft are overhead.

And yet, despite all of this, we moved the ball forward.

The pressure from the mission to advance the project was immense. We worked within a deliberate, programmatic approach, applying a disciplined methodology to an objective that had already experienced significant delay.

The overarching training plan was developed backwards from the required outcomes: we started with the knowledge, skills, and abilities required of a fully qualified police officer - the performance objectives.

From there, we developed the the enabling objectives - the stepping stones and building blocks required to reach those outcomes - were broken down into logical and sequential components.

Once we hit our stride, we were working approximately two weeks ahead of the scheduled classroom delivery of the training material, developing and refining the next phase while simultaneously delivering the current one. And we were doing it while working inside an active construction site.

Everything had to fit. Everything had to connect. And everything had to work. There was very little room for error.

I also remember my first meetings with two very different men I was to work with, assigned to the Palestinian Civil Police training portfolio.

By physical appearance alone, they were polar opposites.

The director of the academy had the essence of a rock star. Fit, handsome, and affable, he was in his early forties, a touch of black still adorned this full head of silver hair. His uniform was immaculate. He served as the commandant of the newest Palestinian Civil Police undertaking. We enjoyed his company and our female language assistants seemed to fawn over him.

The other man was quite different.

Short and olive-skinned, he was a thin, middle-aged chain smoker, with heavy dark bags beneath deep-set eyes. His thinning hair and utilitarian appearance gave him a completely different presence. My impression was that his nearly black eyes saw far more than he ever let on.

It sometimes seemed to me that he had been assigned to a punishment detail.

As a Lieutenant Colonel working on the third floor of the Palestinian Civil Police headquarters in the Ain Munjedon neighbourhood of Ramallah, his office was tired—sparsely decorated, dark, and perpetually smelling of stale cigarette smoke. The headquarters was about a ten-minute walk from EUPOL COPPS headquarters, and given our objective further afield at JPTC, we spent time there when it was necessary.

His responsibility was significant. He led the training branch of the Palestinian Civil Police and was tasked with ensuring that all elements of the force's training portfolio were completed - with one notable exception: the new training academy.

Both men were of the same rank. Their portfolios also clearly overlapped in several areas. The friction between them was palpable so we rarely met with them collectively.

The contrast between their environments was almost as striking as the contrast between the men themselves. 

The headquarters in Ramallah was old, tired, but functional. The new police training academy at An-Nuway'imah was something entirely different. An-Nuway'imah, النويعمة in Arabic, is a Palestinian village approximately five kilometres north of Jericho in the eastern part of the West Bank. Situated deep in the central Jordan Valley, it lies below sea level, near notable regional landmarks including Hisham's Palace.

The academy was new, modern, and full of possibility. And because it represented something new, it also attracted attention. The academy regularly sought - and was often given - the opportunity to deliver new courses beyond the immediate requirements of recruit training. This increased after the facility opened.  The donors from all European nations wanted to be part of the new facility and money flowed and all types of courses increased. 

It was obvious that there was competition between the two men. Perhaps more accurately, there were two different visions of what the training function should become. And somewhere in the middle of that tension was our team, trying to get a new police academy operational.

We had been given an objective. Get the school open and functional. Everything else was secondary.

So we got to work.

In meeting the two men individually, I advised them of three things.

First, I gave them a high-level overview of my background. At that point in my career I had spent twenty-five years as a police officer, including specific experience in police training. I had certificates in adult education and I had worked for two years as an instructor at our provincial police academy - the Ontario Police College - and three years with our federal police service - the RCMP - as a director at the Canadian Police College. I had background and practical training with significant experience in adult education. My experience also included developing training initiatives at the post-secondary level through the community college system in Canada.

I thanked them sincerely for the trust they had placed in the process that had selected me for the mission. Then I asked for their patience.

I knew that some level of misstep was going to be inevitable, and to be frank, there were several over the course of the year that I was there. I asked in advance for their forgiveness for any embarrassment I might inadvertently cause them. If I made a mistake, it would come from a place of curiosity rather than disrespect.

I had been briefed at a macro level on the Palestinian Civil Police, its organization, and the challenges facing the mission. But I also possessed a significant level of ignorance about their service, their policing culture, their history, and the processes they employed.I needed to learn.

My third point was perhaps the most important. I told them that I did not intend to arrive as the expert who had all the answers. 

My mantra was simple:

"I don't intend to be a sage on the stage. I intend to be a guide on the side."

That philosophy would serve me well.

The academy would not be Canadian. It would not be European. It would be Palestinian. The decisions would be made in consultation with Palestinians, for Palestinians, and by Palestinians. Our role was to provide the experience, knowledge, advice, and support that could help them achieve what they wanted to achieve.

That distinction mattered. I had two significant and highly memorable moments during the year I spent leading this unlikely group in an effort to achieve an objective that had previously failed.

Emergency services were siloed in the West Bank. Police, fire and ambulance services operated independently; they did not routinely talk to one another and never perform each other’s functions. The result was that Palestinian police officers had not even received basic first-aid training. True to my St John Ambulance roots, I found myself in the heart of the Holy Land  - the very place where the Knights of St John had established their first hospital - discovering that police officers were not trained in some of the simplest lifesaving skills.

As a step in the direction of building interagency interoperability, a personal first task was to ensure that first-aid training became part of the core police curriculum. It remains so to this day.

The second involved a graduating class of 300 recruits. We wanted that class to include twenty-five female members of the Palestinian Civil Police Service - the first cohort of women to graduate from the new academy. Getting there required an incredible amount of work behind the scenes. There were long and sometimes protracted conversations. We worked and applied pressure on the PCP through the legal branch and officers from the gender team, building a quiet but undeniable atmosphere of expectation that eventually created pressure up the chain of command.

It was not about publicly confronting anyone. It was about creating the conditions in which the decision could no longer simply be ignored. And eventually, it happened. Our recommendation was supported, the decision made - twenty-five women became part of that graduating class. For me, it was one of the most important achievements of the year.

Our weekly meetings with the Director of the Academy, Lieutenant Colonel Zaher, were unlike meetings I had experienced in Canada. Zaher was a lawyer by training who had become a police officer. He spoke perfect English but demanded the meetings be held in Arabic. He was an intelligent, capable, and engaging man.

Our meetings were always held in his office. It was neat, bright, and airy, and he refused to allow people to smoke in the office.Meetings were conducted through simultaneous translation from Arabic to English. But they did not begin with business. They began with hospitality.

First came a glass of water and conversation. Sometimes that conversation lasted an hour. Then came coffee - the Lieutenant Colonel's personal blend - and another hour of conversation. The third drink was a lovely peppermint tea.

Only after all of that did we begin discussing business. At first, I found this unusual. Eventually, I came to understand that the conversation was the business.

Hospitality is deeply important in Palestinian culture. It is persistent and generous. Sharing food and drink opens the door to exchanging personal stories, family histories, and local heritage. A visitor is treated not simply as a guest, but often as a member of the family. I learned to embrace it.

In fact, we accomplished more through those conversations, and through our remarkable language assistants, than we could have accomplished through formal correspondence alone. For the larger issues, the formal process was considerably different. Letters were written at my level and sent through our command structure. They were translated into Arabic, forwarded to the Palestinian General's office, and then filtered down through their chain of command. The response process was eventually reversed. A formal response would make its way back through their system, arrive on our side, be translated from Arabic into English, and then slowly work its way through our own chain of command. It was painstaking, time-consuming, and often wrought with frustration caused by delay. And sometimes, the most seemingly innocent question could create a significant diplomatic problem. 

One example involved the formal appointment of the Director of the Academy. We had been advised through our chain of command that the Director's position had not been clearly communicated and some confusion existed if it had been designated as a temporary posting. At one point, someone on our side informally asked Lieutenant Colonel Zaher's second-in-command when the Director would be formally appointed. It seemed like a reasonable question. It wasn't. That was another lesson I learned. Questions of policy could be extremely sensitive in a culture where hierarchy and authority carried significant weight. To ask the sitting Director directly when he expected to be formally appointed could easily be interpreted as an insult. It could suggest that we were questioning his legitimacy or his authority. We could have seriously damaged the relationship we had spent months developing. Somewhere along the way, a question that had originated as a simple administrative inquiry had filtered to the highest levels of EUPOL COPPS. Neither the Head nor Deputy Head of Mission had been aware of the circumstances surrounding the Director's appointment or the expected longevity of his position. Eventually, we decided that the safest approach was to seek formal verification through proper channels. A letter was prepared and sent from our Head of Mission to General Hazim Attalah, the senior officer responsible for the Palestinian Civil Police. It was, in retrospect, a rather tactical move. When Lieutenant Colonel Zaher received the formal correspondence through his own chain of command, he was understandably surprised. But the formal process had accomplished something important. It removed ambiguity. It protected everyone. And, perhaps most importantly, it prevented an informal question from becoming a personal insult. The decision to formalize the request actually strengthened our relationship with Zaher rather than damaging it.

That was reinforcement of a lesson in leadership. Sometimes you have to show your work. How you get to a solution matters. Sometimes the most diplomatic thing you can do is understand when not to ask the obvious question. And sometimes the best way to build a relationship is to take the time to understand why the obvious question isn't obvious at all.

On reflection, every time I arrived at the academy, the hospitality was exemplary. There was generosity, warmth, conversation, and respect. Others had been criticized for the delays and we were highly praised for completing the objective. Over time, I came to understand that these were not simply cultural courtesies. They were part of how relationships were built, how trust was developed so business could be achieved.

In the end, relationships were what allowed us to get the work done. I had arrived in Palestine with considerable experience in policing and police training, but experience alone was not enough. I had to learn their culture, their history, their expectations, and their way of doing business. The most important thing I could bring to the table was not an answer.

It was a willingness to listen.

As we approached official opening day, from the point of my team becoming involved, there had been fifty courses running at school with hundreds of officers being trained.  Leadership, criminal investigations, traffic safety, interviewing, defensive tactics instruction, crowd control, motorcycle operation.  The list was extensive as was the money flowing from donor countries.

On 8 July 2012, we met our objective - the academy officially opened. 

This was but one example of a thousand that I could share in answering what, on the surface, appeared to be a very simple question. The work was slow and intricate. Progress was measured in weeks and months rather than hours and days. We moved forward through layers of consultation, hierarchy, culture, protocol, and relationship-building, always in simultaneous translation from English to Arabic and from Arabic back to English.

Calendars, not clocks, measured our progress. Patience measured our effectiveness. And relationships made the work possible.

These experiences profoundly influenced me - my perspective, how I defined who I was, what I considered important, and how I approached my work. More than anything, they strengthened my commitment to community service and deepened my understanding of the importance of listening before leading.

When I returned to Canada, those lessons significantly re-shaped my appreciation of Truth and Reconciliation. They reminded me that meaningful reconciliation begins with acknowledging difficult truths, listening with humility, building authentic relationships, and working together to create communities where every person feels valued and respected. That philosophy continues to guide everything I do.

It is reflected in my work at Lakehead University, in my volunteer service, and in the creation of I WAS THIRSTY, an initiative founded on the belief that meeting basic human needs is one meaningful way to express our shared humanity. Providing clean drinking water cannot solve homelessness or erase generations of injustice. But it can demonstrate compassion. It can restore a measure of dignity. And it can remind someone that they have not been forgotten.

My international service also taught me something else. While cultures, languages, histories, and political realities may differ, the hopes people hold for themselves and their families are remarkably similar. Everywhere I have served, people have wanted safety. Justice. Opportunity. Security. A better future for their families. And, ultimately, the opportunity to live with dignity. Those are not Palestinian aspirations. They are not Canadian aspirations.

They are human aspirations.

Those universal hopes continue to inspire my commitment to public service and reinforce my belief that each of us has both the ability - and the responsibility - to contribute to a more compassionate and just world. Perhaps that is one of the most important lessons my career has given me: we may not always be able to change the circumstances people find themselves in. But we can choose how we respond to them.

We can show up.

We can listen.

We can treat people with dignity.

And, whenever we have the opportunity, we can leave the place - and the people - we encounter a little better than we found them

Arguably the hardest task I have ever had the honour of leading was the work we completed in Palestine.

My final letter of reference reads;

"Between 11 September 2011 and 10 September 2012, Mr Clifford held the position of Police Adviser within the European Union Police and Rule of Law Mission in the Occupied Palestinian Territories (EUPOL COPPS), which remains widely considered as one of the most challenging and difficult of the ten missions that EU currently conducts.

Throuout Mr. Clifford's deployment, he consistently demonstrated strong organisational and delivery skills.  His work ethic, dedication and innate motivation were well recognized, both within the mission itself and within the headquarter European External Action Service in Brussels.  In fact, it was this level of commitment and professionalism that saw Mr Clifford soon appointed as Team Leader of the Police Advisory Training Team, and by doing so assuming responsibility for all training policies, and strategies on the mission's behalf.  Of particular note was Lorne's role in the establishment of a completely updated, refurbished and professional police training college for the Palestinian Civil Police.

In addition to his training expertise and focus, Mr Clifford often, and willingly proffered advice to mission and Palestinian colleagues alike on a whole range of general policing issues, such was his commendable operational knowledge, expertise and credibility.

Throughout his tenure, Mr Clifford consistently demonstrated outstanding communication and interpersonal skills and quickly, and deservedly, gained the respect of both senior management and peers alike; his pleasant warm and pleasant personality made him a very popular colleague, both within the emission and indeed within the wider national and international community.

In short, Mr Clifford proved to be a resourceful, creative and problem solving person who frequently managed to come up with new and innovative approaches to complex situations. Other notable skills included and ability to remain calm and objective during extremely challenging situations, whether political or operational in nature, and to deliver nonetheless.  His commitment and loyalty remained second to none, both to the mission mandate and to the senior management team; a truly inspiring team player.

It was often commented that with Lorne 'things got done'. And that is how one can best sum up Mr Clifford: He got things done, and in a manner that was both respectful to colleagues and national counterparts alike.

A true gentleman and professional  colleague with whom it was indeed and honour and a pleasure to work. I have no hesitation whatsoever in strongly recommending Mr Clifford's employ as he will undoubtedly remain a resourceful and valuable asset to any organsation or team.

Yours sincerely,

Kenneth Deane

Head of Mission

EUPOL COPPS

August 2012"