A Tale of Two Departures
Politics is something we're, fortunately, becoming more and more desensitized to. We may approve of one of David Cameron's ties, or at a push, one of Gordon Brown's. Cameron's hair may look especially bouncy and voluminous. But we rarely feel compelled to invest anything in it, or rely upon it at all.
Yet this week, we are all forced to look to our leaders for something, anything, to reassure us that the senseless shooting of an eleven year-old boy is really the bottom of society's trajectory. That this, after all things, will be the one event that shakes us out of the malaise we find ourselves in.
It says much, and all of it horrendous, that a boy of eleven could be gunned down in a car park, by an assassin making his escape on a bike, weaving his way through the rat-run alleys of the estate he has spent his misspent childhood learning like the back of his hand for just this kind of occasion. Yet are we being foolish to imagine that this could be a turning point? We think back to Damilola Taylor, we think back to Kiyan Prince, and we think back to Sharlene Ellis and Leticia Shakespeare as examples of previous nadirs of our moth eaten social fabric.
Where the real problem lies is that one nadir seems to be quickly eclipsed by another event that we, in our naive blinkered way, can never imagine being outdone. But nothing is ever so quickly rectifiable; the vast estates which form the rat-runs dominated by gangs and their hangers-on will not be swept clean with any kind of political new broom.
The other notable departure this week, an almost polar opposite to the tragic murder of Rhys Jones, was veteran newspaper journalist and former Tory Cabinet member, Bill Deedes. Why I bring up this doyen of journalism now, is that, in 70 years of journalism, he had seen it all. And you can bet that he knew better than to look towards our politicians for real, on-the-ground help with societal evils that we can so scarcely comprehend. It is simply not enough, in this day and age, in our desensitized, apolitical society, to turn our gaze to Westminster and expect help when everything goes wrong. We whinge and we moan. We wax lyrical on the decay of moral fibre, the ease with which weapons can be come by, and the lack of conscience with which they can be used to brutal, savage effect. The problem is not with legislation imposed from the top- though perhaps the swathes of council estates built in the 50s, 60s and 70s, which started their decaying decline in the 1980s, have provided a breeding ground. Legislation and politics in general is a slow, reactionary process; to be proactive, people need to convince themselves of the necessity of change.
When Deedes visited South Wales, West Cumbria and Tyneside in the eighties, to compare these places with a previous visit decades earlier, he lamented that while jobs had gone, and new industries were slowly taking root with some hope for the future, the family bonds that had kept previous generations together were irreparably damaged. He also wrote, "our way out, our way to improve order in society, lies in a willingness to rethink attitudes and policies, and to admit that wherever each of us have has taken our stand on law and order, conceivably we have been wrong." We need neither strong bombastic leadership, nor aggressive militant Neighbourhood Watch zealots patrolling with pitch forks. Both of those approaches are too rigid; flexibility is what we, evidently, need. To persuade people that, for instance, a young black male from a single parent family in a London council estate is not a lost cause or an inevitable foot soldier of the future. Stereotypes help nobody. Arguably the most depressing thing is that Deedes wrote that in 1971. Here, in 2007, we are only just starting to see his sense.
Attitudes can change. People can stand up for their communities, once they are given the reassurance that they will have support from the police to do so. So what we need, as we inevitably and misguidedly look towards PM Brown for a thunderbolt of a quick-fix, is less debate, and more encouragement. More promises of support for initiatives that can change attitudes and futures. More support for police and communities to stand up and do what they can to protect their communities; hopefully some erosion of the gangs' power, and some viable alternatives for the next generation of 11 and 12 year olds being recruited, can be the first step in reversing a steep decline. Deedes spotted it.
Yet this week, we are all forced to look to our leaders for something, anything, to reassure us that the senseless shooting of an eleven year-old boy is really the bottom of society's trajectory. That this, after all things, will be the one event that shakes us out of the malaise we find ourselves in.
It says much, and all of it horrendous, that a boy of eleven could be gunned down in a car park, by an assassin making his escape on a bike, weaving his way through the rat-run alleys of the estate he has spent his misspent childhood learning like the back of his hand for just this kind of occasion. Yet are we being foolish to imagine that this could be a turning point? We think back to Damilola Taylor, we think back to Kiyan Prince, and we think back to Sharlene Ellis and Leticia Shakespeare as examples of previous nadirs of our moth eaten social fabric.
Where the real problem lies is that one nadir seems to be quickly eclipsed by another event that we, in our naive blinkered way, can never imagine being outdone. But nothing is ever so quickly rectifiable; the vast estates which form the rat-runs dominated by gangs and their hangers-on will not be swept clean with any kind of political new broom.
The other notable departure this week, an almost polar opposite to the tragic murder of Rhys Jones, was veteran newspaper journalist and former Tory Cabinet member, Bill Deedes. Why I bring up this doyen of journalism now, is that, in 70 years of journalism, he had seen it all. And you can bet that he knew better than to look towards our politicians for real, on-the-ground help with societal evils that we can so scarcely comprehend. It is simply not enough, in this day and age, in our desensitized, apolitical society, to turn our gaze to Westminster and expect help when everything goes wrong. We whinge and we moan. We wax lyrical on the decay of moral fibre, the ease with which weapons can be come by, and the lack of conscience with which they can be used to brutal, savage effect. The problem is not with legislation imposed from the top- though perhaps the swathes of council estates built in the 50s, 60s and 70s, which started their decaying decline in the 1980s, have provided a breeding ground. Legislation and politics in general is a slow, reactionary process; to be proactive, people need to convince themselves of the necessity of change.
When Deedes visited South Wales, West Cumbria and Tyneside in the eighties, to compare these places with a previous visit decades earlier, he lamented that while jobs had gone, and new industries were slowly taking root with some hope for the future, the family bonds that had kept previous generations together were irreparably damaged. He also wrote, "our way out, our way to improve order in society, lies in a willingness to rethink attitudes and policies, and to admit that wherever each of us have has taken our stand on law and order, conceivably we have been wrong." We need neither strong bombastic leadership, nor aggressive militant Neighbourhood Watch zealots patrolling with pitch forks. Both of those approaches are too rigid; flexibility is what we, evidently, need. To persuade people that, for instance, a young black male from a single parent family in a London council estate is not a lost cause or an inevitable foot soldier of the future. Stereotypes help nobody. Arguably the most depressing thing is that Deedes wrote that in 1971. Here, in 2007, we are only just starting to see his sense.
Attitudes can change. People can stand up for their communities, once they are given the reassurance that they will have support from the police to do so. So what we need, as we inevitably and misguidedly look towards PM Brown for a thunderbolt of a quick-fix, is less debate, and more encouragement. More promises of support for initiatives that can change attitudes and futures. More support for police and communities to stand up and do what they can to protect their communities; hopefully some erosion of the gangs' power, and some viable alternatives for the next generation of 11 and 12 year olds being recruited, can be the first step in reversing a steep decline. Deedes spotted it.
Labels: Politics
posted by Matt at 9:57 pm
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