Why we should stop asking, and start explaining

When comprehension, shame, and social pressure hinder a fair process

Police officers, custody staff, lawyers and magistrates all reach for the same phrase at the same moments: after the caution, during booking-in, before a signature, before a plea, before conditions are explained. “Do you understand?” sounds like fairness, but it often functions as a ritual rather than a test.

The argument here is straightforward. In everyday practice, the question is poorly designed for the environment it lives in. It invites a yes that keeps the system moving, while quietly failing the people who most need clarity. When that happens, the legitimacy of the interview, custody decision or court process rests on a nod or a quick “Yeah”.

A yes/no question that isn’t really a question

“Do you understand?” is a closed question asked inside a power imbalance. In a police station or courtroom, people are often tired, frightened, angry, intoxicated, medicated, withdrawn, or simply overwhelmed. Many are trying to appear competent. Many want the interaction to end.

Judicial guidance is unusually direct about the social mechanics at work. The Equal Treatment Bench Book repeatedly warns that asking “Do you understand?” is unreliable, because people may say “yes” to save face, to avoid appearing stupid, or because they do not recognise their own difficulties. It recommends checking understanding by asking the person to feed back what they have understood, in their own words.

Why officers often don’t listen for the answer

This is not usually a story about indifferent officers. It is a story about a system that makes a genuine “no” operationally expensive.

A real “no” disrupts the script. It forces immediate decisions: what exactly was misunderstood; whether this is vulnerability; whether an appropriate adult or interpreter is needed; whether interview or charging must pause; and how to record the answer and situation correctly. Many officers have never been given any guidance or training for that moment, and few people enjoy discovering gaps in their own competence in front of a detainee, a custody sergeant, or a solicitor.

So the system drifts towards the path of least resistance: ask the question, accept the nod, move on and get on with the job.

Not understanding is not one thing

When someone does not understand, the cause is rarely abstract. It is usually one (or more) of the following:

⦁ Literacy and reading confidence: A significant minority of adults have very poor literacy skills. That turns written rights notices, bail sheets, charge paperwork and conditions into a shame-trigger. People often mask this by agreeing, not by asking for help.

⦁ Neurodivergence and communication style: Autism, ADHD and social communication differences can make comprehension harder to spot. A person may mirror language, appear to agree, interpret phrases literally, or need extra processing time that is misread as defiance.

⦁ Learning disability or cognitive impairment: Some people cannot reliably track conditional statements, long sentences or legal vocabulary under pressure. (Who actually understands the olde world legal jargon anyway?)

⦁ Mental health crisis, trauma, and acute distress: Panic, psychosis, severe depression, dissociation and trauma responses can reduce working memory and attention. People may hear words without integrating meaning, or be so overwhelmed that they just agree and say yes to move the process on.

⦁ Language and cultural factors: Legal English is not everyday English. Even fluent speakers can struggle with formal phrasing when stressed. For those who need interpretation, “Do you understand?” can become theatre unless communication is genuinely supported, or encouraged in a compassionate and supportive environment.

The framework already assumes understanding needs effort and active clarification

This is not a soft-skills add-on. The rules already build in safeguards for people who do not understand what is being said to them.

PACE Code C is explicit about the purpose of the appropriate adult in interview: not to sit quietly as a witness to process, but to advise, to observe fairness, and to facilitate communication. The Notes for Guidance also spell out the logic: the protections exist to safeguard vulnerable people who do not understand the significance of what is said to them, and to reduce the risk of unreliable or self-incriminating accounts.

In court, the Criminal Practice Directions (2023, as amended November 2025) require the court to take “every reasonable step” to facilitate participation, including enabling an accused to comprehend proceedings, and they direct that proceedings should be adapted so far as necessary. They also emphasise that, at trial, the court must consider the need to ensure the defendant can comprehend and participate effectively.

The Criminal Procedure Rules also contain a mechanism for appointing an intermediary to facilitate a defendant’s effective participation, including communication with their legal representatives.

A better test: stop asking, start checking

The simplest change is to stop asking whether someone understands and instead ask them to demonstrate what they think the words mean. This can be done simply, in a non-judgmental conversational way that works in custody and in court:

⦁ “Tell me, in your own words, what the caution means.”

⦁ “What do you think your options are right now?”

⦁ “What do you think happens if you choose not to answer questions?”

⦁ “Explain your bail conditions back to me, as you understand them.”

⦁ “What is the next thing you think you have to do, and by when?”

This is sometimes called “teach-back” in healthcare and safeguarding contexts. The aim is not to trap someone, but to check whether the message landed. It also gives the officer (or the bench) something concrete to work with: you can hear where the misunderstanding sits and fix that piece, rather than repeating the entire script louder. (Did someone say Brits on holiday?)

Make “no” safe to say

People hide confusion because confusion is humiliating in front of authority. The quickest way to improve honesty is to normalise difficulty and take responsibility for clarity.

⦁ “This wording trips loads of people up. If it didn’t make sense, that’s on me pal— we’ll go it again.”

⦁ “OK no worries. Which bit: the first part, or the bit about court?”

⦁ “Do you want me to break it into smaller chunks?”

This is not about being ‘nice’. It is about building a process that yields reliable decisions, reliable evidence and reliable compliance with conditions; and, most importantly, one that is fair and doesn’t discriminate against people who do not have the education and upbringing that some who read articles like this one might have had.

What this looks like as policy, not just good intentions

If a force wants fewer failed interviews, fewer misunderstandings, fewer complaints, and a fairer system, there are three concrete changes that can be considered:

1. Replace the checkbox question in risk assessments and booking in procedures: Swap “Do you understand?” for a brief comprehension check (“Explain back what you’ve understood about X”). Record what the person actually said, not just “DP states they understand”.

2. Create a clear escalation process when comprehension fails: If the person cannot explain back: rephrase; slow down; offer legal advice (see my blog on the legal aid paradox); consider an interpreter or appropriate adult. Make this ladder explicit in local custody/interview guidance.

3. Train for the awkward bit: The least educated, the neurodivergent, the abused and the confused within our communities are far more likely to be arrested by the police than to be working for the police. The more we recognise that, the better we will become at helping people to understand, rather than assuming they already do.

Where this leaves us?

“Do you understand?” survives because it lets the organisation move at speed whilst feeling fair and “Pace compliant”. But when the question becomes a ritual, it turns into a small institutional fiction: we asked, they understood - job done.

A system that cares about legitimacy should treat understanding as something you verify, not something you invite someone to perform. PACE already expects this in custody; the court directions expect it at trial. The cultural shift the writer suggests is simply to give those we deal with in our working lives the time and importance that they deserve.