Yesterday evening on my way home from work, I made an observation.
I frequently make observations on my travels through the city every day, but these are usually along the lines of "Slow people are the ones who drift into the middle too much" and "Tourists like to take photographs of the rats on the underground, and sometimes of me eating my lunch, too". But the observation I made yesterday was very unlike me; rather than making an angry, sarcastic or bitter observation, I made a sad one: people are lonely.
I was sitting on the train staring out the window with, ironically enough, P!nk's Leave Me Alone (I'm Lonely) blaring into my ears, when I caught sight of a man's reflection in the darkened glass. He was staring at his mobile phone.
My eyes drifted to the reflection of the woman sitting across the aisle from me, and she too was staring at her phone.
I moved my gaze from the window to the woman sitting across from me, and yep, another one was scrolling through her Blackberry. A quick look around the carriage confirmed that everyone (yes, literally everyone) was either talking on their phone, pressing buttons on their phone or staring at the screen of their phone intently. (And to top things off, on my way to work this morning, a woman staring at her phone let out a loud, involuntary "Awwww!" It warmed my heart for about two seconds, and then I got irritated by the man standing next to me, breathing too loudly.)
Maybe loneliness isn't the right word, because that sort of suggests that these people are missing some fundamental social proximity in their lives, while in fact it is entirely plausible that they all have big, loud families, doting partners, hyperactive children, crowds of friends and a surplus of various other acquaintances. In fact, if all of them are finding people to talk to at 8:30 in the evening, then that must mean they have someone to fill that void in their life. What interested me is the fact that so many people crave social proximity.
I know humans are supposed to be social creatures, but I didn't realise until yesterday evening just how social we are. Or they are, anyway; somehow, I don't quite get it. Sometimes I drive myself crazy with all my Mini Maaarfers running around up in my brain, bumping into one another and causing chaos, but then there are also occasions where all the Mini Maaarfers sit round a table together and have a civilised discussion about whatever the topic of the day happens to be. And I love occasions like those.
Sometimes, there's nothing I love more than to be alone. I used to think that everyone felt like that, but as I sat there on the train yesterday evening, it suddenly dawned on me how little I see people simply being these days. No one sits in a park alone and stares at the ducks; no one sits under a tree and writes a poem; no one goes out for a walk anymore unless they have a dog to take with them. We are all kept busy with our phones, our Kindles, our iPads and, in my case, our iPods, and in our struggle to keep up with the modern western world, the imagination has become a forgotten tool. And perhaps that is the saddest thing of all.
Wednesday 31 August 2011
Monday 29 August 2011
I'm Arsenal Till I Die
Yesterday I plonked my bum down in front of Sky Sports 1 and subjected myself to Arsenal's worst defeat since 1896. My great-grandmother was 10 in 1896: kinda puts things into perspective.
Given this little statistic, and the fact that I've cried at much narrower defeats before, it's a wonder that, as Young slid the final ball home deep into injury time, I happened to be bouncing about and laughing sadistically at our self-inflicted demise. I think that, as a Gooner, I've reached that place where reality blurs with poo and the only result is hysteria. It's a defence mechanism which kicks in after one's team concedes a sixth goal, and prevents an otherwise highly plausible suicide attempt.
The morning after always feels a bit like a hangover. You wake up, wonder where you are and whether what happened the day before was really real or just some freaky dream. (I dreamt that Robin van Persie moved into a hut made of straw, and he painted the roof orange. Significance, anyone?) You don't want to eat anything, and you avoid looking at yourself in the mirror through fear of what you might see. When the neighbour's dog starts barking, you scream in its general direction to fecking well shut the feck up, and then you hold yourself in agony, before finally collapsing in a heap on your bed again.
I didn't have a hangover this morning, though. Aside from the Robin-van-Persie-living-in-a-straw-hut-with-an-orange-painted-roof dream, there was nothing. I think the situation has become so surreal that it's impossible to feel the way that we felt last season, when we lost 3-2 at home to Tottenham, or when we lost out on the Carling Cup to Birmingham, or when we went from being four goals up at half-time to drawing 4-4 with Newcastle. This is a whole other kettle of fish. This is like when Godzilla is stampeding down the road and he stands on your car, grinding it into dust, but you just wipe your brow and say, "Phew! He didn't get me!" before returning your attention back to his massive dinosaur toe in your struggle to stay alive. Yesterday Godzilla stood on our car, and today we're all crowded behind some dustbin somewhere on a backroad, hoping he doesn't see us and decide we look tasty.
It's hard to really pinpoint where we went wrong, but if I had to, I'd point a big, fat arrow at 18th April 2007: the day David Dein left the club.
Things were obviously falling apart long before then - hence his departure - but I think that that was the day that something shifted in Arsenal F.C.. Dein was Mr Arsenal; insult his hair and call him Bum Face all you like, but you never doubted his intentions. Chelsea had been bought out by Roman Abramovich four years earlier and it was clear to see that football as we all knew it was evolving; when it came down to it, David Dein wanted to be the fish staggering out of the water on a pair of legs, and the rest of our shareholders chose to be, quite simply, a fish out of water.
It was easy enough to cover it up for awhile: blame the departure of Thierry Henry, pin it all on our new stadium and label it a 'transitional period'; who was to know that the 'transitional period' would last until 2011? But then other clubs began to catch on - the most notable change to occur at Manchester City - and you have to begin to question the machine to which your club belongs. You cannot compete with a club who can throw around £27m, £35m and an alleged fee of £47m for the signatures of Edin Džeko, Sergio Agüero and Carlos Tevez, respectively - especially not when your club's record signing is that of the signature of Andrey Arshavin for £15m. You cannot compete with a club whose players' salaries are so high that you lose decent, experienced players such as Toure, Clichy and Nasri to them. Big clubs do not sell their best players to their rivals. What the hell are we doing?
The only thing I can assume is that Arsenal F.C. no longer considers itself a big club. And why should it? We haven't won a trophy in six years. We spend the entire summer suggesting that we might sign Juan Mata, and then watch him turning up several weeks later at Stamford Bridge in a Chelsea shirt. We smother Cesc Fabregas in our love and adoration for eight years, and then we send him off back home to Barcelona with a packed lunchbox and a pat on the head, saying, "Thanks for the help, Cesc. It was good of you try" with a measley £30m in our (or Silent Stan's) back pocket. It wasn't unreasonable to think that that money might go back into the team, and that even if Arsene Wenger wasn't keen to line up a direct replacement (what with Wilshere and Ramsey breaking their way solidly into the first team) he might still see fit to strengthen the defence or get in a new striker to add some depth to the squad. But nothing has materialised. We have three days left in the transfer market, and we're still dabbling about on the 99p stall wondering if we can haggle a few teenagers for 98p.
I cannot blame Arsene Wenger for this. I may not necessarily be a proud member of AKB (Arsene Knows Best), but nor am I waving about any AMG (Arsene Must Go) banners, and I suggest that those who are find another banner with the name of the replacement manager they would bring in. We can only field the players we have, and we can only buy the players who want to come, who are prepared to stay and who we can afford. The fact that we agreed terms for Juan Mata but the money "didn't arrive" speaks volumes to me. Is there any money? In the past we have sold good players only after we have seen their best: Patrick Vieira, Thierry Henry, Robert Pires and Freddie Ljungberg all left long after their heyday. Now we appear to be prepared not only to sell our best players to our biggest rivals, but also to let them go for a pittance. Why do we need this money? Why are ticket prices being put up by 6%? Why are we charged £5 for a piece of bread and a bottle of water at halftime? Why does the club continuously host events like live screenings of away matches, stinging the fans with ridiculous entrance fees and the offer of a free pie just so that we can watch the team lose, again and again, in the same predictable, boring manner? Why is the board letting Arsene Wenger take the heat for it?
I have been asking myself these questions with increasing frequency and diminishing patience these last few years, and it's reached a point where we the fans need answers. The club (and by the club, I mean the shareholders and those who sit about in the directors box drinking champagne worth more than I earn in a week, whilst twiddling their moustaches and probably farting occasionally) owe it to us, and they especially owe it to the fans who turned up at Old Trafford yesterday, stayed till the very end and out-gloried "glory, glory Man United".
It is very easy to sing when you're winning, but the video above is testament to this brilliant club and its amazing fans. Let's not stop singing until they hear us.
Given this little statistic, and the fact that I've cried at much narrower defeats before, it's a wonder that, as Young slid the final ball home deep into injury time, I happened to be bouncing about and laughing sadistically at our self-inflicted demise. I think that, as a Gooner, I've reached that place where reality blurs with poo and the only result is hysteria. It's a defence mechanism which kicks in after one's team concedes a sixth goal, and prevents an otherwise highly plausible suicide attempt.
The morning after always feels a bit like a hangover. You wake up, wonder where you are and whether what happened the day before was really real or just some freaky dream. (I dreamt that Robin van Persie moved into a hut made of straw, and he painted the roof orange. Significance, anyone?) You don't want to eat anything, and you avoid looking at yourself in the mirror through fear of what you might see. When the neighbour's dog starts barking, you scream in its general direction to fecking well shut the feck up, and then you hold yourself in agony, before finally collapsing in a heap on your bed again.
I didn't have a hangover this morning, though. Aside from the Robin-van-Persie-living-in-a-straw-hut-with-an-orange-painted-roof dream, there was nothing. I think the situation has become so surreal that it's impossible to feel the way that we felt last season, when we lost 3-2 at home to Tottenham, or when we lost out on the Carling Cup to Birmingham, or when we went from being four goals up at half-time to drawing 4-4 with Newcastle. This is a whole other kettle of fish. This is like when Godzilla is stampeding down the road and he stands on your car, grinding it into dust, but you just wipe your brow and say, "Phew! He didn't get me!" before returning your attention back to his massive dinosaur toe in your struggle to stay alive. Yesterday Godzilla stood on our car, and today we're all crowded behind some dustbin somewhere on a backroad, hoping he doesn't see us and decide we look tasty.
It's hard to really pinpoint where we went wrong, but if I had to, I'd point a big, fat arrow at 18th April 2007: the day David Dein left the club.
Things were obviously falling apart long before then - hence his departure - but I think that that was the day that something shifted in Arsenal F.C.. Dein was Mr Arsenal; insult his hair and call him Bum Face all you like, but you never doubted his intentions. Chelsea had been bought out by Roman Abramovich four years earlier and it was clear to see that football as we all knew it was evolving; when it came down to it, David Dein wanted to be the fish staggering out of the water on a pair of legs, and the rest of our shareholders chose to be, quite simply, a fish out of water.
It was easy enough to cover it up for awhile: blame the departure of Thierry Henry, pin it all on our new stadium and label it a 'transitional period'; who was to know that the 'transitional period' would last until 2011? But then other clubs began to catch on - the most notable change to occur at Manchester City - and you have to begin to question the machine to which your club belongs. You cannot compete with a club who can throw around £27m, £35m and an alleged fee of £47m for the signatures of Edin Džeko, Sergio Agüero and Carlos Tevez, respectively - especially not when your club's record signing is that of the signature of Andrey Arshavin for £15m. You cannot compete with a club whose players' salaries are so high that you lose decent, experienced players such as Toure, Clichy and Nasri to them. Big clubs do not sell their best players to their rivals. What the hell are we doing?
The only thing I can assume is that Arsenal F.C. no longer considers itself a big club. And why should it? We haven't won a trophy in six years. We spend the entire summer suggesting that we might sign Juan Mata, and then watch him turning up several weeks later at Stamford Bridge in a Chelsea shirt. We smother Cesc Fabregas in our love and adoration for eight years, and then we send him off back home to Barcelona with a packed lunchbox and a pat on the head, saying, "Thanks for the help, Cesc. It was good of you try" with a measley £30m in our (or Silent Stan's) back pocket. It wasn't unreasonable to think that that money might go back into the team, and that even if Arsene Wenger wasn't keen to line up a direct replacement (what with Wilshere and Ramsey breaking their way solidly into the first team) he might still see fit to strengthen the defence or get in a new striker to add some depth to the squad. But nothing has materialised. We have three days left in the transfer market, and we're still dabbling about on the 99p stall wondering if we can haggle a few teenagers for 98p.
I cannot blame Arsene Wenger for this. I may not necessarily be a proud member of AKB (Arsene Knows Best), but nor am I waving about any AMG (Arsene Must Go) banners, and I suggest that those who are find another banner with the name of the replacement manager they would bring in. We can only field the players we have, and we can only buy the players who want to come, who are prepared to stay and who we can afford. The fact that we agreed terms for Juan Mata but the money "didn't arrive" speaks volumes to me. Is there any money? In the past we have sold good players only after we have seen their best: Patrick Vieira, Thierry Henry, Robert Pires and Freddie Ljungberg all left long after their heyday. Now we appear to be prepared not only to sell our best players to our biggest rivals, but also to let them go for a pittance. Why do we need this money? Why are ticket prices being put up by 6%? Why are we charged £5 for a piece of bread and a bottle of water at halftime? Why does the club continuously host events like live screenings of away matches, stinging the fans with ridiculous entrance fees and the offer of a free pie just so that we can watch the team lose, again and again, in the same predictable, boring manner? Why is the board letting Arsene Wenger take the heat for it?
I have been asking myself these questions with increasing frequency and diminishing patience these last few years, and it's reached a point where we the fans need answers. The club (and by the club, I mean the shareholders and those who sit about in the directors box drinking champagne worth more than I earn in a week, whilst twiddling their moustaches and probably farting occasionally) owe it to us, and they especially owe it to the fans who turned up at Old Trafford yesterday, stayed till the very end and out-gloried "glory, glory Man United".
It is very easy to sing when you're winning, but the video above is testament to this brilliant club and its amazing fans. Let's not stop singing until they hear us.
Wednesday 17 August 2011
Where Did 'Girl Power' Go?
A few days ago I stumbled across a quote from my favourite former Spice Girl Melanie C, on the ever-increasing emphasis on sex in mainstream music and how artists such as Rihanna need to take greater responsibility for the image that they put out. This is what she said:
From The Mirror
I didn't blog about it at the time because I thought that Sporty had said it all, but after reading this article today, I feel the need to clarify a few things.
The author implies that the Spice Girls were socially damaging for young girls, citing their (or, rather, Posh and Ginger Spices') donning of PVC in one music video, and while he admits that Sporty was one of the more modest Spices, there's the suggestion of hypocrisy on Melanie C's part, undermining her argument completely.
I've heard a lot of negative feminist commentary on the Spice Girls, but speaking as someone who was an impressionable young girl at the time of their reign, I found them to be nothing but a positive influence. When the Spice Girls were at their height, I was 8-years-old, and I was challenging the boys in the playground to races; I was campaigning at school for the girls to get as much football time as the boys; I was proud of who I was, and proud to be a girl. And while some feminists might argue that Ginger, Posh and at times Scary were heavily sexualised (for their time, anyway), I argue this: there was always choice with the Spice Girls. That's precisely what made them such a roaring success. If you reckoned yourself to be a bit cute, there was Baby. If you were feisty, there was Scary. If you thought you were more the classy kind, there was Posh. If you wanted to be sexy, there was Ginger. And if, like me, you liked football and trainers, there was Sporty. Being a fan of the Spice Girls didn't just mean that you were a fan of their music; it meant you were a fan of yourself. You, as a girl, were represented. You were told that it was OK for you to be cute, to be feisty, to be classy, to be athletic, and it was OK to be sexy, without ever indicating that to be sexy was the only way to be successful. These were normal women, with normal bodies and admittedly quite normal vocals; they were never the unobtainable, impossibly perfect and highly saturated pictures of women that we see on TV, in film and in music videos today.
As a young girl, I enjoyed a freedom I don't think young girls get to experience today. My morning battle with my wardrobe revolved around which tracksuit went best with which trainers, and the biggest problem my hair ever encountered was whether my ponytail was high enough. Now, I see girls as young as five being sent off to school in the winter months in just a little skirt and pair of socks, and it's easier finding a bikini for a young girl than it is finding a regular swimming costume. Why do we encourage this fashion upon young girls? Why are girls slapping on makeup with such inexpertise from as young an age as 11? Why are there so many pre-teen girls posing in front of their bedroom mirror in basques and then posting these photographs on social networking sites for the entire world to see, clearly oblivious to just who might see them? There are probably a lot of reasons why, but these few reasons in particular jump to mind: because it has become mainstream; because everyone else is doing it; because successful women they admire and aspire to be like are doing it; because we are not presenting these young girls with choice anymore. Sex sells, and kids have bought it.
Then the problem continues like a vicious circle: as popstars get younger and younger, with notables such as Willow Smith and Rebecca Black making the charts and the headlines respectively, we run the risk of exposing these already heavily-influenced kids to a darker reality. Tell an ordinary school-going young teenage girl to fit in, and she will likely put on a bit of makeup (badly) and wear clothes intended for a twenty-something. Tell a young teeange popstar to fit in, and she will likely turn into Miley Cyrus. Case in point.
But it's not all doom and gloom. There are probably almost as many Spice Girl-type role models as there are Rihanna-type role models: P!nk, Jessie J, Adele, Katy B and Kelly Clarkson to name just a few. The only problem is that sometimes we choose to watch a mute, expressionless, half-naked woman grinding herself against a fully-clothed male artist before we listen to the honest lyrics of those worth watching and listening to.
People have to take some responsibility because we’ve got to a point where over-sexualisation of young children has gone too far... I think music is a big part of that. Women in music, very successful women, are extremely sexual and they have young fans. It is inappropriate... Rihanna has responsibility and although culture’s always changing, it’s changed too much. It needs to be dealt with. It’s reached saturation point, we owe it to our kids to protect them.
From The Mirror
I didn't blog about it at the time because I thought that Sporty had said it all, but after reading this article today, I feel the need to clarify a few things.
The author implies that the Spice Girls were socially damaging for young girls, citing their (or, rather, Posh and Ginger Spices') donning of PVC in one music video, and while he admits that Sporty was one of the more modest Spices, there's the suggestion of hypocrisy on Melanie C's part, undermining her argument completely.
I've heard a lot of negative feminist commentary on the Spice Girls, but speaking as someone who was an impressionable young girl at the time of their reign, I found them to be nothing but a positive influence. When the Spice Girls were at their height, I was 8-years-old, and I was challenging the boys in the playground to races; I was campaigning at school for the girls to get as much football time as the boys; I was proud of who I was, and proud to be a girl. And while some feminists might argue that Ginger, Posh and at times Scary were heavily sexualised (for their time, anyway), I argue this: there was always choice with the Spice Girls. That's precisely what made them such a roaring success. If you reckoned yourself to be a bit cute, there was Baby. If you were feisty, there was Scary. If you thought you were more the classy kind, there was Posh. If you wanted to be sexy, there was Ginger. And if, like me, you liked football and trainers, there was Sporty. Being a fan of the Spice Girls didn't just mean that you were a fan of their music; it meant you were a fan of yourself. You, as a girl, were represented. You were told that it was OK for you to be cute, to be feisty, to be classy, to be athletic, and it was OK to be sexy, without ever indicating that to be sexy was the only way to be successful. These were normal women, with normal bodies and admittedly quite normal vocals; they were never the unobtainable, impossibly perfect and highly saturated pictures of women that we see on TV, in film and in music videos today.
As a young girl, I enjoyed a freedom I don't think young girls get to experience today. My morning battle with my wardrobe revolved around which tracksuit went best with which trainers, and the biggest problem my hair ever encountered was whether my ponytail was high enough. Now, I see girls as young as five being sent off to school in the winter months in just a little skirt and pair of socks, and it's easier finding a bikini for a young girl than it is finding a regular swimming costume. Why do we encourage this fashion upon young girls? Why are girls slapping on makeup with such inexpertise from as young an age as 11? Why are there so many pre-teen girls posing in front of their bedroom mirror in basques and then posting these photographs on social networking sites for the entire world to see, clearly oblivious to just who might see them? There are probably a lot of reasons why, but these few reasons in particular jump to mind: because it has become mainstream; because everyone else is doing it; because successful women they admire and aspire to be like are doing it; because we are not presenting these young girls with choice anymore. Sex sells, and kids have bought it.
Then the problem continues like a vicious circle: as popstars get younger and younger, with notables such as Willow Smith and Rebecca Black making the charts and the headlines respectively, we run the risk of exposing these already heavily-influenced kids to a darker reality. Tell an ordinary school-going young teenage girl to fit in, and she will likely put on a bit of makeup (badly) and wear clothes intended for a twenty-something. Tell a young teeange popstar to fit in, and she will likely turn into Miley Cyrus. Case in point.
But it's not all doom and gloom. There are probably almost as many Spice Girl-type role models as there are Rihanna-type role models: P!nk, Jessie J, Adele, Katy B and Kelly Clarkson to name just a few. The only problem is that sometimes we choose to watch a mute, expressionless, half-naked woman grinding herself against a fully-clothed male artist before we listen to the honest lyrics of those worth watching and listening to.
Monday 15 August 2011
The Theory of Evolution
If you're a fan of any given football club for long enough, there will come a point where things will change, and you will have to accept those changes.
In the 13 years I've been an Arsenal fan, I've seen: a solid back four; a club almost as good as Manchester United; an invincible team who plays the most scintillating football the Premier League has ever seen and probably ever will see; a promising team full of young talent, and a frustrating team who just can't quite do it. Now I'm seeing the result of a gradual realisation that football itself is not what it once was. It is not possible to compete at the highest level without the funds of Chelsea and Manchester City, or the debt of Manchester United. You can create a good team with a combination of young talent and foreign players plucked from relative obscurity, but you cannot create maturity, leadership or loyalty from these two things - and that is, essentially, what is required to compete at the top, top level.
So Cesc Fabregas leaves Arsenal, and as huge a fan I was (is?) of his, I'm glad. Nasri completes the season of his career (so far) and he starts heading for the exit door on the argument that we refuse to pay him enough (yeah, I earn £8 an hour - shove it, Samir). Again, I'm glad. Because as much as it pains me to admit it, even if we'd kept Fabregas and Nasri decided to stay, I still don't believe we'd win anything this year. I don't think we're good enough to win the Premier League and Champions League, and I don't think we pay enough respect to the FA Cup or Carling Cup to win either of those, even though both are within our capabilities. So if we're going to win nothing, as far as I'm concerned, we may as well win nothing with some players of integrity, and maybe those players will soon grow into men with experience: men who can deliver trophies. It may take a few years, but if the alternative is to surrender my beloved club to some rich billionaire American moustache-encrusted bastard, then I know which one I'd rather.
The club needs to start being honest with the fans, and this needs to be reflected in what are currently over-inflated ticket and merchandise prices; the media needs to stop putting such heavy emphasis on Arsenal's trophy drought, but most importantly, we the fans needs to stop comparing ourselves to Chelsea, Manchester City and Manchester United. Because quite frankly, though we might suck sometimes, we're still by far the greatest team the world has ever seen.
In the 13 years I've been an Arsenal fan, I've seen: a solid back four; a club almost as good as Manchester United; an invincible team who plays the most scintillating football the Premier League has ever seen and probably ever will see; a promising team full of young talent, and a frustrating team who just can't quite do it. Now I'm seeing the result of a gradual realisation that football itself is not what it once was. It is not possible to compete at the highest level without the funds of Chelsea and Manchester City, or the debt of Manchester United. You can create a good team with a combination of young talent and foreign players plucked from relative obscurity, but you cannot create maturity, leadership or loyalty from these two things - and that is, essentially, what is required to compete at the top, top level.
So Cesc Fabregas leaves Arsenal, and as huge a fan I was (is?) of his, I'm glad. Nasri completes the season of his career (so far) and he starts heading for the exit door on the argument that we refuse to pay him enough (yeah, I earn £8 an hour - shove it, Samir). Again, I'm glad. Because as much as it pains me to admit it, even if we'd kept Fabregas and Nasri decided to stay, I still don't believe we'd win anything this year. I don't think we're good enough to win the Premier League and Champions League, and I don't think we pay enough respect to the FA Cup or Carling Cup to win either of those, even though both are within our capabilities. So if we're going to win nothing, as far as I'm concerned, we may as well win nothing with some players of integrity, and maybe those players will soon grow into men with experience: men who can deliver trophies. It may take a few years, but if the alternative is to surrender my beloved club to some rich billionaire American moustache-encrusted bastard, then I know which one I'd rather.
The club needs to start being honest with the fans, and this needs to be reflected in what are currently over-inflated ticket and merchandise prices; the media needs to stop putting such heavy emphasis on Arsenal's trophy drought, but most importantly, we the fans needs to stop comparing ourselves to Chelsea, Manchester City and Manchester United. Because quite frankly, though we might suck sometimes, we're still by far the greatest team the world has ever seen.
Wednesday 10 August 2011
UK Riots
On Monday evening, I watched on the news a shop around the corner from my home go up in flames. I was lucky. Some people have lost their businesses; some people have lost their homes; some people have lost their lives. And for what? A flat-screen TV, an iPod and a solitary trainer from Foot Locker, apparently.
While the violence and acts of crime that we have seen reported on the news and in newspapers these last few days are disgusting and inexcusable, I am struggling to really align myself with the police or the government on this one. Somewhere beneath the burning buildings and smashed-in shop windows, I can see a deep-rooted anger towards the state for the prejudice, stereotyping and vilification certain groups have faced over the years. Stealing a mobile phone is not a direct result of Mark Duggan being shot last Thursday in Tottenham, nor is it a direct result of being stopped and searched by the police more times than you could count on one hand; it is a result of a combination of things: poverty, capitalism being shoved down our throats at every given opportunity, in the form of the phone we must use, the trainers we must wear and the music we must listen to, and a total lack of understanding and appreciation this government has for anything less than a two-parent family with 2.4 kids and a dog named Fluffy.
Poverty breeds contempt. Whether people realise it or not, we have been conditioned to want things that we can’t have and to expect lifestyles usually reserved for Hollywood actors, popstars and footballers. We live in a culture where everyone wants to be a singer, a rap artist, a footballer or a WAG, and yet we live in a society where if you are not born into money, you will struggle. You will struggle in school because schools will not encourage you, you will struggle to get into higher education either because you don’t have the self-belief or because you can’t afford the extortionate tuition fees, and you will struggle to find work because there is no work, and those few existing poorly-paid jobs are now open to graduates only. You might overcome these struggles, but then again you might not, and if you don’t, you will personally be blamed for your ‘failings’ and everyone will call you a ‘chav’ and a ‘pikey’; they will make you feel ashamed of your ranking in the social hierarchy, and the same fortune will be written out for your children. At the same time, we are ever-increasingly faced with influences from the Unites States, which makes coming from ‘the ghetto’ seem like something to be proud of, and even if you live in a nice four-bedroom house in Ealing, you are still ‘hard’ if you pull on a hoodie and fake a South-London accent.
I must reiterate that I do not condone the rioting, and it is important that those guilty are stopped and punished accordingly for their crimes. But this is only a short-term solution to the problem; if we really want to address why this happened and stop it from happening again, we seriously need to take a look at those in positions of power and question whether they are doing enough for those who weren’t given a head-start in life, or whether they are simply perpetuating the problem with their constant vilification of anyone out of work, on benefits, from a single-parent family or of an ethnic minority.
While the violence and acts of crime that we have seen reported on the news and in newspapers these last few days are disgusting and inexcusable, I am struggling to really align myself with the police or the government on this one. Somewhere beneath the burning buildings and smashed-in shop windows, I can see a deep-rooted anger towards the state for the prejudice, stereotyping and vilification certain groups have faced over the years. Stealing a mobile phone is not a direct result of Mark Duggan being shot last Thursday in Tottenham, nor is it a direct result of being stopped and searched by the police more times than you could count on one hand; it is a result of a combination of things: poverty, capitalism being shoved down our throats at every given opportunity, in the form of the phone we must use, the trainers we must wear and the music we must listen to, and a total lack of understanding and appreciation this government has for anything less than a two-parent family with 2.4 kids and a dog named Fluffy.
Poverty breeds contempt. Whether people realise it or not, we have been conditioned to want things that we can’t have and to expect lifestyles usually reserved for Hollywood actors, popstars and footballers. We live in a culture where everyone wants to be a singer, a rap artist, a footballer or a WAG, and yet we live in a society where if you are not born into money, you will struggle. You will struggle in school because schools will not encourage you, you will struggle to get into higher education either because you don’t have the self-belief or because you can’t afford the extortionate tuition fees, and you will struggle to find work because there is no work, and those few existing poorly-paid jobs are now open to graduates only. You might overcome these struggles, but then again you might not, and if you don’t, you will personally be blamed for your ‘failings’ and everyone will call you a ‘chav’ and a ‘pikey’; they will make you feel ashamed of your ranking in the social hierarchy, and the same fortune will be written out for your children. At the same time, we are ever-increasingly faced with influences from the Unites States, which makes coming from ‘the ghetto’ seem like something to be proud of, and even if you live in a nice four-bedroom house in Ealing, you are still ‘hard’ if you pull on a hoodie and fake a South-London accent.
I must reiterate that I do not condone the rioting, and it is important that those guilty are stopped and punished accordingly for their crimes. But this is only a short-term solution to the problem; if we really want to address why this happened and stop it from happening again, we seriously need to take a look at those in positions of power and question whether they are doing enough for those who weren’t given a head-start in life, or whether they are simply perpetuating the problem with their constant vilification of anyone out of work, on benefits, from a single-parent family or of an ethnic minority.
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