Water: Profit for some and poison for others
I recently came across a news story that seems to have appeared one day and vanished nearly as quickly. It didn’t hit the headlines, well not as I recall, it just appeared on my phone and then was gone. The story, well a by now well-rehearsed narrative about the transgressions of our water companies, but with a rather toxic twist. Not just about the untreated effluence released into our rivers and seas, but toxic industrial waste such as ‘cyanide, chromium, cadmium and mercury’ being accepted by the water treatment plants adding to the already overloaded treatment systems. Systems that it seems, in the main, are not designed or capable of dealing with it and consequently the highly toxic chemicals end up in waterways, the sea and on our lands as fertiliser.
Not only are the water companies knowingly accepting and disposing of this waste, but they are making millions of pounds doing so whilst turning a blind eye to the consequences. There is little by way of oversight or regulation and what oversight and regulation there is, is pretty much ineffective and outdated.
To put it simply, industries pay water companies to, I say this tongue in cheek, legitimately, poison our waters and our lands and ultimately, through the food chain poison us. And to rub salt into the wound, all concerned make huge profits which they then dole out to their shareholders and senior management.
On the face of it, much like the raw sewage scandals we’ve seen recently, it is simply a breach of regulation, a mistake, a result of underinvestment, a need for more funding, or quite simply a fuss about not a lot. Nothing to see here. Weather the storm of adverse media reporting for a while and the indignation of interested parties, even celebrities, and then just carry on.
Except, from a criminological point of view, this is not about mere breaches of regulation or mistake or other excuses, this is about harm being done and ultimately, it is about crime. Call it environmental crime, green crime, Zemiology, call it what you like but it still amounts to something pretty devastating for all of us.
Perhaps currently it is about damage to the waterways and landscapes but how long before a link is made between the release of these toxic substances and birth defects, or early mortality rates, firstly in our livestock and then ultimately in humans? How long before there is a call for a public inquiry and calls for reparation? At what point will the government be apologising for not getting to grips with the problem. Of course, it won’t be this government but a government of the future that whilst they can apologise, cannot really be held responsible, after all they weren’t there at the time. The victims will be doubly victimised as they pay the cost of being poisoned and then as taxpayers pay the cost of the cleanup. In the meantime, directors and other responsible parties will have disappeared with golden handshakes and lucrative pensions and shareholders will rapidly be offloading shares, having made significant profits. Former Ministers will be sitting in the House of Lords lamenting at the problem but denying any culpability through inaction. It will, as so many such cases do, just become another story about a historic failure at so many levels with few, if any, held to account.
As an aside, given the enormity of the potential for harm, I wonder why the story just fell by the wayside. If nothing else, surely government needs to take a look. Or maybe money and political manoeuvring are so much more important.
Having read this blog you may be interested in two television broadcasts: Buried with Michael Sheen and Toxic Toiwn
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Murder
The day I first heard about the murder of Damilola Taylor, it sounded like another story of urban violence. The details were shocking but not unusual. A broken glass bottle had been used as a weapon, causing a severe wound to the victim’s thigh. The injury severed a major artery and the victim later died in hospital. The attack took place in Peckham, South London, a place that was already associated in the public imagination with concerns about crime and disorder.
As a criminologist, nothing in the initial reports immediately stood out. Violence is not exclusive to cities, but its concentration and visibility often differ from those found in rural communities. News reports framed the killing as an act of senseless violence, another tragic incident in the broader landscape of urban crime. It was only as the story developed that it became clear this case was about far more than the act itself.
The victim was Damilola Taylor, a ten-year-old boy who never made it home from the library. His family had come to Britain from Nigeria, hoping to secure medical treatment for his sister. Instead, they became the centre of one of the most significant criminal cases in modern British history.
The public reaction was shaped by more than the brutality of the attack. Both the victim and the eventual perpetrators were children. Damilola was ten years old. Those later convicted were only twelve and thirteen at the time of the attack. The case challenged popular assumptions about violence, childhood, and responsibility. It forced the public to confront the uncomfortable reality that serious violence can emerge among the young and that its consequences are often devastating for entire communities.
Yet the criminological significance of the case lies not primarily in the violence itself but in the response to it.
The original trial ended in acquittals. Central prosecution evidence was undermined by concerns regarding witness reliability, while expert testimony suggested that Damilola’s injuries may have resulted from an accident rather than a deliberate attack. Questions emerged about the collection, interpretation, and presentation of evidence. The Taylor family expressed frustration with the criminal justice system, arguing that the investigation lacked the rigour their son’s death deserved.
What followed was a prolonged struggle over competing versions of events. Forensic evidence became a central battleground. Experts disagreed. Investigators faced criticism. Public confidence was tested. Eventually, a retrial produced convictions after DNA evidence linked two brothers to the attack. The criminal justice system ultimately secured guilty verdicts, but the process revealed the difficulties of investigating serious crime and maintaining public trust when institutional performance is called into question.
For local residents, the case became symbolic of wider concerns about neglect and marginalisation. Community members organised protests and campaigns demanding justice. They were not simply asking for convictions. They were questioning whether institutions were responding adequately to the needs of communities already struggling with poverty, violence, and limited political influence.
As public debate intensified, the murder became associated with broader discussions of knife crime and youth violence. Politicians, journalists, and commentators searched for explanations. Some focused-on culture. Others pointed to family breakdown, social exclusion, or failures of policing. In doing so, the discussion often moved away from the specific circumstances of Damilola’s death and towards competing political narratives about crime.
This is where criminology offers a different perspective.
For much of the public, murder is often understood through the lens of mystery and resolution. Who committed the offence? How was it done? Will justice be served? These questions dominate media coverage because they provide a compelling narrative. Criminology, however, asks different questions. What social conditions surround acts of violence? How do institutions respond to harm? Which voices are taken seriously, and which are ignored? What political interests shape public understandings of crime?
Viewed through this lens, the case becomes about much more than identifying offenders. It reveals how crime can expose institutional weaknesses, generate political controversy, and deepen existing social divisions. The debates surrounding Damilola’s murder were not only about individual responsibility. They were also about policing, justice, community trust, race, and belonging.
More than two decades later, what remains most important is not the symbolism attached to the case but the human tragedy at its centre. Damilola Taylor was a ten-year-old Yoruba boy who spent his final moments bleeding to death in a stairwell. Behind every discussion of policy, forensic evidence, and criminal justice reform stands a child who never returned home, and a family forced to live with unimaginable loss.
That is perhaps the most important lesson criminology can offer. Crime is not interesting because it is sensational. Crime matters because it causes harm. The true significance of Damilola Taylor’s murder lies not in its notoriety, but in what it reveals about the ways societies respond to suffering, the institutions entrusted with delivering justice, and the communities left to carry the consequences when they fail.
If you would like to find out more about Damilola Taylor and get involved with the trust which bears his name, more information can be found here.
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Screen Time and Square Eyes
Whilst I was on maternity leave the government guidance on screen time, Screen time guidance for under 5s was published. This included the phrase: ‘Juggling family life and raising children in a digital world can be challenging. Find out more about how to support healthy screen habits for children under 5’. The key points from the guidance are that if your child is under 2 screen time should be mostly avoided and if your child is 2-5 years old you should try to ensure that they have no more than an hour of screen time per day. There is also some screen time guidance for parents, with the suggestion that you should ‘be mindful’ of your own screen usage when with your child/children.
The reasons cited for this and the images provided seem to suggest that too much screen time is bad for children’s brains. I think for some parents there is probably a sense of relief that their concerns with screen time and there attempts at trying to limit this are validated by the government. I am sure others are probably not aware of the guidance at all.
Yet, this is another lot of guidance that is focused on the parents and perhaps another justification for the judgment of ‘bad parenting’. Yet, parents are sold screens of many varieties, phones, T.Vs, laptops, ipads etc. Children may notice that the lives of parents can sometimes revolve around screens because of screen usage when working at home, when communicating with people or when paying bills and using email for a variety of reasons. There are screens specifically marketed for children, such as kids electronic tablets, plus we are inundated with content aimed at children. There are whole franchises (like Disney) which are aimed at entertaining children via screens. For example, a browse of Disney Plus shows me that each Disney film tends to have a duration that exceeds the daily 1 hour screen time limit recommended by this guidance.
There is some brief reference to SEN children within the guidance but screen usage might also depend on different families. I.e., screen time might be useful sometimes within families that are navigating disabilities, single parenthood or the work and childcare juggle. It might also be a bit more difficult to limit screen time if you do not have a garden or have less money to pay for days out or frequently buy toys, books and activities to keep children entertained. We also seem to have a terrible issue within our mainstream culture in that the spaces that we frequent are not very family or child friendly so a screen may be a filler for those missing spaces or missed opportunities to go to the park in the winter as there’s no shelter, toilets and breastfeeding spaces etc.
Whilst growing up in the 90s I remember people telling me that I should not stand to near to the television because I will get ‘square eyes’, it is clear that we have a long standing culture of screen usage. The issue presented leave me to wonder how realistic is it to stick to this blanket style of guidance within our given context. Surely changes that could be made are not just about providing parents with guidance but also creating a better society?
