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2024: the year for community and kindness?
The year 2023 was full of pain, loss, suffering, hatred and harm. When looking locally, homelessness and poverty remain very much part of the social fabric in England and Wales, when looking globally, genocide, terror attacks and dictatorships are evident. Politics appear to have lost what little, if any, composure and respect it had: and all in all, the year leaves a somewhat bitter taste in the mouth.
Nevertheless, 2023 was also full of joy, happiness, hope and love. New lives have been welcomed into the world, achievements made, milestones met, communities standing together to march for a ceasefire and to protest against genocide, war, animal rights, global warming and violence against women to name but a few. It is this collective identity I hope punches its way into 2024, because I fear as time moves forward this strength in community, this sense of belonging, appears to be slowly peeling away.
When I recollect my grandparents and parents talking about ‘back in the day’ what stands out most to me is the community identity: the banding together during hard times. The taking an interest, providing a shoulder should it be required. Today, and even if I think back critically over the pandemic, the narrative is very singular: you must stay inside. You must be accountable, you must be responsible, you must get by and manage. There is no narrative of leaning on your neighbours, leaning on your community to the extent that, I’m under the impression, existed before. We have seen and felt this shift very much so within the sphere of criminal justice: it is the individual’s responsibility for their actions, their circumstances and their ‘lot in life’. And the Criminologists amongst you will be uttering expletives at this point. I think what I am attempting to get at, is that for 2024 I would like to see a shared identity as humankind come front and central. For inclusivity, kindness and hope to take flight and not because it benefits us as singular entities, but because it fosters our shared sense of, and commitment to, community.
But ‘community’ exists in so much more than just actions, it is also about our thoughts and beliefs. My worry: whilst kindness and support exist in the world, is that these features only exist if it does not disadvantage (or be perceived to disadvantage) the individual. An example: a person asks me for a sanitary product, and having many of them on me the vast majority of the time, means I am able and happy to accommodate. But what if I only had one left and the likelihood of me needing the last one is pretty high? Do I put myself at a later disadvantage for this person? This person is a stranger: for a friend I wouldn’t even think, I would give it to them. I know I would, and have given out my last sanitary product to strangers who have asked on a number of occasions. And if everyone did this, then once I need a product I can have faith that someone else will be able to support me when required. The issue, in this convoluted way of getting there, is for most of us (including me as evidenced) there is an initial reaction to centralise ‘us’ as an individual rather than focus on the community aspect of it. How will, or even could, this impact me?
Now, I appreciate this is overly generalised, and for those that foster community to all (not just those in their community and are generally very selfless) I apologise. But in 2024, I would like to see people, myself included, act and believe in this sense of community rather than the individualised self. I want people to belong, to support and to generally be kind and not through thinking about how it impacts them to do so. We do not have to be friends with everyone, but just a general level of kindness, understanding and a shared want for a better, inclusive, and safe future would be great!
So Happy New Year to everyone! I hope our 2024 is full of peace, prosperity, community, safety and kindness!
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Pregnancy and Lavender Fields
If being a women means that you will experience harm due to your socially constructed sex/gender, being pregnant and a mother certainly adds to this. The rose-tinted view of pregnancy implies that pregnancy is the most wonderful of experiences. There is imagery of the most privileged of mothers with their pregnancy ‘glow’, in fields of [insert flower here] holding their bumps with the largest of smiles. Outside of smiles and lavender field imagery, judgment is reserved for pregnant women who do not enjoy pregnancy. In a world of ‘equality gone mad’, it seems that whilst some pregnant women may have a variety of hurdles to face, it is presumed that they should carry on living in the exact same way as those who are not pregnant.
Maybe you lose your job upon becoming pregnant and your workplace does not provide you with sick pay when needed. Maybe it is harder for you to access healthcare and screenings due to racism and xenophobia. Perhaps it is a Covid-19 pandemic, your boss is a bit disgruntled that you are pregnant and despite the legal guidance stating that pregnant people should isolate you are told that you need to work anyway. Or perhaps you are quite ill during your pregnancy, you must try to cope and continue to work regardless, but must also hide this sickness from your customers and colleagues. Whilst at the same time it is unlikely that there are places for you to rest or be sick/ill in peace. If any time is taken off work you may then be considered as being work-shy by some. Despite it being well documented that some pregnancy related ill-health conditions, like hyperemesis, have serious consequences, such as the termination of pregnancy, death and mothers taking their own lives (with or without suitable interventions).
Before labour, if you go to the triage room screaming in pain, maybe you will need to wait some time at the reception for staff to assist you, and perhaps you may be asked to ‘be quiet’ so as to not disturb the equilibrium of the waiting room. Maybe your labour is incredibly painful but apparently you must ‘take it like a champ’ and pain relief medication may be withheld. Maybe you will receive a hefty bill from the NHS for their services due to your undocumented migrant status, refused asylum application or have no recourse to public funds. If experiencing pain post-labour, maybe your pain is disregarded, and you face life-threatening consequences due to this.
Once you become a mother maybe you are more exhausted than your partner, maybe your partner is a abusive, maybe they cannot push a pram, change nappies, calm a crying baby because of toxic masculinity. If your baby becomes upset (as they do sometimes) whilst out and about you may need a quite low sensory place to feed them, or for them to relax but there is nowhere suitable to go. If looking flustered or a bit dishevelled whilst out maybe you are treated as a shop-lifting suspect by security and shop assistants.
If you have the privilege of being able to return to work, ensure that you return within the optimum time frame as having too much or too little time off work is not viewed as desirable. Also, make sure you have some more babies but not too many as both would be deemed selfish. Whether you breastfeed or provide formula both options are apparently wrong, in different ways. If you do breastfeed and need to use a breast pump whilst returning to work you may find that there are no/or a limited amount of suitable rooms available on public transport, at transport hubs, in public venues and workplaces for using a breast pump. This, among with other factors, such as the state of the economy, the lack of/a poor amount of maternity pay, and childcare costs, make the ability to both maintain formal employment and be present as a healthy mother difficult. Notably, the differences, extent and severity of harmful experiences differ depending on power, your status and identity attributes, if your gender does not neatly fit into the white privileged/women/female/mother box you will face further challenges.
It seems that society, its institutions and people want babies to be produced but do not want to deal with the realities that come with pregnancy and motherhood.
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Here to serve but not your slave
My wife and I were fortunate enough to go on holiday this year to a beautiful island in the Caribbean. Palm Island, a stone’s throw, well 10-minute boat ride (I’m not prone to exaggeration you understand) from Union Island, and some 45 minutes by plane to Barbados is a unique paradise described as the Maldives in the Caribbean.
The circumstances of the people that work on Palm Island (and history) are perhaps not too dissimilar to those that work in Cape Verde, a subject of a previous blog. Wages are poor, the staff are not exactly affluent, and work is hard to come by. Many have gravitated to Palm Island from nearby islands to find work and have subsequently stayed on Union Island, commuting every day after a long shift. Others stay on Palm Island in staff accommodation, returning home to their families every few months in St. Vincent and elsewhere. Whilst guests enjoy luxurious accommodation, great food and plentiful drinks, the workers receiving low wages, relying on a percentage of the service charge and tips, do not even have the luxury of a constant water supply on Union Island. Palm Island has its own water processing plant, Union Island does not. Hence the gardener telling me he had to pay $250 dollars to have water delivered to his home; £100 for the water and $150 for the delivery. The dry season is hard going and financially precarious.
The Island shut down during Covid and many of the workers returned home with no wages for the duration. Poverty is not an alien concept to them. Their lives and that of the visitors couldn’t be further apart and yet are intertwined by capitalism in the form of tourism. They need the tourists to sustain the jobs, the more tourists, the more in service charges and tips. Of course, the owners of the island want more tourists because it brings in more revenue. A moral dilemma for some perhaps, well for me anyway. I won’t be pretentious and state that I go to the island to support the local economy, vis-a-vie the poor people, I go there for a really good holiday. But here is the crux of the matter, and hence the title, I try my utmost to treat the staff with respect. I recognise that they are paid to serve me and other guests, and they do a brilliant job, but they are not my servants or slaves (the historical significance should be obvious). And yet I have witnessed people demanding drinks without a please or thank you, “give me a vodka”, “she wants a rum and coke”. I have seen people coming off yachts with day passes for the island, they came, they saw, they made a complete mess and they left…. You can clear up our mess! Glasses left all over the beach, beach towels left wherever, they last used them. “What did your last servant die of”, I ask, as they slope off into the rum filled sunset? “It certainly wasn’t old age” I shout after them. But it just seems lost on them.
I ask myself would they have treated me like that had I been the one behind the bar? I think not, perhaps the lighter colour of my skin may have persuaded them that I am worthy of some courtesy. But then who knows, it seems that some people that have money have a certain arrogance and disregard for anyone else.
Not all of the customers were like that, most were polite and some very friendly with the staff. But we shouldn’t forget the power dynamics, and above all else the privilege that some of us enjoy. Above all else it is a useful reminder that when people are there to serve, they are not your servant nor your slave and they and the job they do deserves respect.
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The decline of social interaction
I am writing about the decline of social interaction today – not because of my interest in sociological interactionist perspectives but because of the declining state of social interactions and the general lack of engagement in societies lately. Additionally, as we come to the end of Mental Health Awareness Week, it is important to reflect on the relationship between social interaction and mental health.
Previously, I have written about the students’ lack of engagement in classrooms and their unwillingness to participate and commit to their studies. In that blog, I tried to understand why students are becoming increasingly disinterested in their studies and why attendance has plummeted. I identified some interconnected issues that might be causing these problems, including anxiety, financial difficulties, lack of sense of belonging and the difficulties of readjusting to life after the pandemic. Furthermore, I have also tried to proffer some solutions for how I think students can resolve these challenges and detailed the importance of being part of a community. However, upon reflection, I realised that I might have underestimated the impact of social interactions in societies today.
First, I’d like to define social interactions as a meaning-making process. It is a process through which individuals exchange ideas, relate, manage information, and react to each other’s dealings. Of course, social interaction encompasses communication but constitutes characteristics like mannerisms, gesticulations, eye contact, smiling, slang, etc. Blumer (1969) lays bare the fundamental premise of this approach (and for the sociologists reading, I recognise the work of Mead, so don’t worry) by exploring some basic premises through which interactions form human character. While these characteristics are more appreciated physically, even though they may be passive sometimes, they create a different feel and richness for socialisation, relationships, and interaction. Not only that, they all constitute the genetic makeup of our social behaviour which invariably translates to our social character. However, in recent times, the nuances that we enjoy being physically engaged with one another seem to be slowly disappearing. Our digital presence, emoticons, Gifs, stickers and memes have replaced many of these characteristics and nuances.
It is important to note, though, that being among people, participating in discussions physically and forming peer relationships all provide us with a good recipe through which we can use to improve our psychological well-being, social interactions and skills. Take a ride on the underground trains in London during peak periods, for example, and you will hear how loud the silence is despite the crowded setting.
I believe that we are living in a time when people are becoming more and more disconnected from one another, and part of the problem also has to do with the consequences of the pandemic social distancing/quarantine rules – which was a necessary evil.
While the social distancing guidance may have been withdrawn, I think there seems to be a continuous trend where people keep each other’s distance even after the pandemic. Loneliness is becoming more perverse; people are becoming removed from social life, and procrastination seems to have taken centre stage.
Again, the rise and usage of multiple social media platforms have also put us where we are slowly replacing our physical presence with our digital presence. We can easily sit behind our WhatsApp, Twitter or TikTok for hours without speaking – but submerged in this digital world. While I am not in any way condemning the use of social media, I think we risk our physical interactions being replaced with digital interactions, which I also consider a contributing factor to the decline of social interactions we face today.
I agree that we all must move with time; we have to adjust ourselves to this new world, or else we will be left behind. However, I suggest not letting our physical engagement dissipate, nor should we allow our digital presence to become more important than our in-person presence. As indicated earlier, we are witnessing a decline in social interactions, but the task ahead of us as a society is to begin to consider ways to ameliorate this problem. There is value in social interaction, even if some might not see the benefits of it. Some studies in the past have found that ensuring good social interactions can improve psychological well-being. Thus, my assignment for everyone reading this blog today is to pick up your phone and check up on a loved one! The sun is out (well, for now); take a break and go out with your friends, have some food and drinks over the weekend, exchange some jokes, and smile!
Life, indeed, is a beautiful thing to have.
Reference
Blumer, H. (1969). Symbolic interactionism: Perspective and methods. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall.
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When This is Over: Reflections on an Unequal Pandemic
This week a book was released which I both co-edited and contributed to and which has been two years in the making. When This is Over: Reflections on an Unequal Pandemic is a volume combining a range of accounts from artists to poets, practitioners to academics. Our initial aim of the book was borne out of a need for commemoration but we cannot begin to address this without considering inequalities throughout the pandemic.
Each of the four editors had both personal and professional reasons for starting the project. I – like many – was (and still is) deeply affected by the COVID-19 pandemic. When we first went into lockdown, we were shown the data every day, telling us the numbers of people who had the virus and of those who had died with COVID-19. Behind these numbers, I saw each and every person. I thought about their loved ones left behind, how many of them died alone without being able to say goodbye other than through a video screen. I thought about what happened to the bodies afterwards, how death rites would be impacted and how the bereaved would cope without hugs and face to face social support. Then my grandmother died. She had overcome COVID-19 in the way that she was testing negative. But I heard her lungs on the day she died. I know. And so, I became even more consumed with questions of the COVID-19 dead, with/of debates. I was angry at the narratives surrounding the disposability of people’s lives, at people telling me ‘she had a good innings’. It was personal now.
I now understood the impact of not being able to hug my grandpa at my grandmother’s funeral, and how ‘normal’ cultural practices surrounding death were disturbed. My grandmother loved singing in choirs and one of the traumatic parts of our bereavement was not being able to sing at her funeral as she would have wanted and how we wanted to remember her. Lucy Easthope, a disaster planner and one of my co-authors speaks of her frustrations in this regard:
“we’ve done something incredibly traumatising to the families that is potentially bigger than the bereavement itself. In any disaster you should still allow people to see the dead. It is a gross inhumanity of bad planning that people couldn’t’t visit the sick, view the deceased’s bodies, or attend funerals. Had we had a more liberal PPE stockpile we could have done this. PPE is about accessing your loved ones and dead ones, it is not just about medical professionals.”
The book is divided into five parts, each addressing a different theme all of which I argue are relevant to criminologists and each part including personal, professional, and artistic reflections of the themes. Part 1 considered racialised, classed, and gendered identities which impacted on inequality throughout the pandemic, asking if we really are in this together? In this section former children’s laureate Michael Rosen draws from his experience of having COVID-19 and being hospitalised in intensive care for 48 days. He writes about disposability and eugenics-style narratives of herd immunity, highlighting the contrast between such discourse and the way he was treated in the NHS: with great care and like any other patient.
The second part of the book considers how already existing inequalities have been intensified throughout the pandemic in policing, law and immigration. Our very own @paulsquaredd contributed a chapter on the policing of protests during the pandemic, drawing on race in the Black Lives Matter protests and gender in relation to Sarah Everard. As my colleagues and students might expect, I wrote about the treatment of asylum seekers during the initial lockdown periods with a focus on the shift from secure and safe self-contained housing to accommodating people seeking safety in hotels.
Part three considers what happens to the dead in a pandemic and draws heavily on the experiences of crematoria and funerary workers and how they cared for the dead in such difficult circumstances. This part of the book sheds light on some of the forgotten essential workers during the pandemic. During lockdown, we clapped for NHS workers, empathised with supermarket workers and applauded other visible workers but there were many less visible people doing valuable unseen work such as caring for the dead. When it comes to death society often thinks of those who cared for them when they were alive and the bereaved who were left to the exclusion of those who look after the body. The section provides some insight into these experiences.
Moving through the journey of life and death in a pandemic, the fourth section focusses on questions of commemoration, a process which is both personal and political. At the heart of commemorating the COVID-19 dead in the UK is the National COVID Memorial Wall, situated facing parliament and sat below St Thomas’ hospital. In a poignant and political physical space, the unofficial wall cared for by bereaved family members such as Fran Hall recognises and remembers the COVID dead. If you haven’t visited the wall yet, there will be a candlelit vigil walk next Wednesday, 29th March at 7pm and those readers who live further afield can digitally walk the wall here, listening to the stories of bereaved family members as you navigate the 150,837 painted hearts.
The final part of the book both reflects on the mistakes made and looks forward to what comes next. Can we do better in the next pandemic? Emergency planner Matt Hogan presents a critical view on the handling of the pandemic, returning to the refrain, ‘emergency planning is dead. Long live emergency planning’. Lucy Easthope is equally critical, developing what she has discussed in her book When the Dust Settles to consider how and what lessons we can learn from the management of the pandemic. Lucy calls out for activism, concluding with calls to ‘Give them hell’ and ‘to shout a little louder’.
Concluding in his afterword, Gary Younge suggests this is ‘teachable moment’, but will we learn?
When This is Over: Reflections on an Unequal Pandemic is published by Policy Press, an imprint of Bristol University Press. The book can be purchased directly from the publisher who offer a 25% discount when subscribing. It can also be purchased from all good book shops and Amazon.
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World Mental Health Day 2022
Monday marked World Mental Health day, that one day of the year when corporations and establishments which act like corporations tell us how much mental health matters to them, how their worker’s wellbeing matters to them. Given many sectors are affected by industrial action, or balloting for industrial action, this seems like a contradiction. Could it be possible that these industries and government are causing mental ill health, while paying lip service as a PR tool? Could it be that capitalism and inequalities associated with it are both the cause of mental health conditions and the very thing that prevents recovery from it?
Capitalism, I argue, is the root of a lot of society’s problems. The climate crisis is largely caused by consumerism and our innate need for stuff. The cost of living crisis is more like a greed crisis, since the rich are getting richer and the corporations are making phenomenal profits while small business struggle to make ends meet and what used to be the middle class are relying on food banks, getting second jobs and wondering whether they can afford to put the heating on. No wonder swathes of us are suffering with anxiety, depression and other mental health conditions. Of course, I cannot argue that capitalism is to blame for all manner of mental health conditions as that is simply not the case. There are many causes of mental health conditions which simply cannot be blamed on the environment. The mental health conditions I discuss here are the depression and anxiety that so many of us suffer as a result of environmental stressors, namely capitalist embedded society.
The mental health epidemic did not start with the current ‘crises’[1] though. Yes, the COVID-19 pandemic contributes and exacerbates already existing inequalities and the UK saw an increase in adults reporting psychological distress during the first two years of the pandemic, yet fewer were being diagnosed, perhaps due to inaccessibility of GPs during this time. Even before all these things which have exacerbated mental health conditions, prevalence of common mental disorders has been increasing since the 1990s. At the same time, we have seen in the UK, neoliberal ideology and austerity politics privatise parts of the NHS and decimate funding to services which support those with needs relating to their mental health.
I am not a psychologist but I know a problem when I see or experience one. Several months ago, I was feeling a bit low and anxious so I sought help from the local NHS talking therapies service. The service was still in restrictions and I was offered a series of six DBT-based telephone appointments. After the first appointment, I realised that this was not going to help. It was suggested to have a structure in my life. I have a job, doctoral studies, dog, home educated teenager, and I go to the gym. Scheduling and structure was already an essential part of my life. Next, I was taught coping skills. ‘Get some exercise’, ‘go for a walk’. Ditto previous session – I’m gym obsessed, with a dog I walk every day, mostly in green spaces. My coping skills were not the problem either. What I realised was that I didn’t need psychological help, I needed my environment to change. I needed my workload to be reduced, my PhD to finally end, my teenage daughter not to have any teenage problems, my dog to behave, for someone to pay my mortgage off, and a DIY fairy to fix the house I don’t have time to fix. No amount of therapy could ever change these things. I realised that it wasn’t me that was the problem – it was the world around me.
I am not alone. The Mental Health Foundation have published some disturbing statistics:
- In the past year, 74% of people (in a YouGov survey of 4,619) have felt so stressed they have been overwhelmed or unable to cope.
- Of those who reported feeling stressed in the past year, 22% cited debt as a stressor.
- Housing worries are a key source of stress for younger people (32% of 18-24-year-olds cited it as a source of stress in the past year). This is less so for older people (22% for 45-54-year-olds and just 7% for over 55s).
The data show not only the magnitude of the problem, but they also indicate some of the prevalent stressors in these respondents’ lives. Over 1 in 5 people cited debt as a stressor, and this survey was undertaken long before the cost of greed crisis. It is deeply concerning, particularly considering the anticipated increase in interest rates and the cost of energy bills at the moment.
The survey also showed that young people are concerned about housing, and this will have a disproportionate impact on care leavers who may not have family to support them and working class young people who cannot afford housing.
The causes of both these issues are predominantly fat cat employers who can afford to pay sufficient and fair wages, fat cat landlords buying up property in droves to rent them out at a huge profit, not to mention the fat cat energy suppliers making billions when half the country is now in fuel poverty. All the while, our capitalism loving government plays the game, shorting the pound to raise profits for their pals while the rest of us struggle to pay our mortgages after the Bank of England raised interest rates. No wonder we’re so stressed!
For work-related stress, anxiety and depression, the Labour Force Survey finds levels at the highest in this century, with 822,000 suffering from such mental health conditions. The Health and Safety Executive show that education and human, health and social work are the industries with the highest prevalence of stress, anxiety and depression. It is yet another symptom of neoliberalism which applies corporate values to education and public services, where students are the cash cow, and workers are exploited; and health and social work being under funded for years. Is it any wonder then that both nurses and lecturers are balloting for industrial action right now?
Despite all this, when World Mental Health Day arrives, it becomes the perfect PR exercise to pay lip service to staff wellbeing. The rail industry are in a period of industrial action, yet I have seen posts on rail companies’ social media promoting World Mental Health Day. Does the promotion of mental health initiatives include fair pay and conditions for staff? I think not.
Something needs to give, but what?
As a union member and representative, I argue for the need for employers to pay staff appropriately for the work they do, and to treat them fairly. This would at least address work and finance related stressors. Sanah Ahsan argues for a universal basic income, for safe and affordable housing and for radical change in the structural inequalities in the UK. Perhaps we could start with addressing structural inequalities. Gender, race and class all impact on mental health, with women more likely to be diagnosed with depression, Black women at an increased risk of common mental health disorders and the poor all more likely to suffer mental health conditions yet less likely to receive adequate and culturally appropriate support. In my research with women seeking asylum, there is a high prevalence of PTSD, yet therapy is difficult to access, in part due to language difficulties but also due to cultural differences. Structural inequalities then not only contribute to harm to marginalised people’s mental health, but also form a barrier to support.
I do not have a realistic solution, but I have the feeling society needs a radical social change. We need an end to structural inequalities, and we need to ensure those most impacted by inequalities get adequate and appropriate support. When I look to see who is in charge, and who could be in charge if the tides were to turn, and I don’t see this happening anytime soon.
[1] I’m hesitant to call them crises. As Canning (2017:9) explains in relation to the refugee ‘crisis’, a crisis is unforesessable and unavoidable. The climate crisis has been foreseen for decades, and the cost of living crisis is avoidable if you compare other European countries such as France where the impact has been mitigated by the government. The mental health crisis has also been growing for a long time and the extent to which we say today could be both foreseen and avoided.
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Criminology First Week Activity (2021)
Before embarking on a new academic year, it is always worth reflecting on previous years. In 2020, the first year we ran this activity, it was a response to the challenges raised by the Covid-19 pandemic and was designed to serve two different aims. The first of these, was of course, academic, we wanted students to engage with a activity designed to explore real social problems through visual criminology, inspiring the criminological imagination for the year ahead. Second, we were operating in an environment that nobody was prepared for: online classes, limited physical contact, mask wearing, hand sanitising, socially distanced. All of these made it very difficult for staff and students to meet and to build professional relationships. The team needed to find a way for people to work together safely, within the constraints of the Covid legislation of the time and begin to build meaningful relationships with each other.
The start of the 2021/2022 academic year had its own pandemic challenges with many people still shielding, others awaiting covid vaccinations and the sheer uncertainty of going out and meeting people under threat of a deadly disease. After taking on board student feedback, we decided to run a similar activity during the first week of the new term. As before, students were placed into small groups, advised to take the default approach of online meetings (unless all members were happy to meet physically), provided with a very short prompt and limited guidance as to how best to tackle the project. The prompts were as follows:
Year 1: Femicide
Year 2: Mandatory covid vaccinations
Year 3: Revoking British citizenship
Many of the students had never physically met, yet managed to come together in the midst of a pandemic, negotiate a strategy, carry out the work and produce well designed and thoughtful, criminological posters.
As can be seen from the collage below, everyone involved embraced the challenge and created some remarkable posters. Some of these have been shared previously across social media but this is the first time they have all appeared together in one place.
I am sure everyone will agree our students demonstrated knowledge, understanding, resilience and stamina. We will be running a similar activity for the first week of the academic year 2022-2022, with different prompts to provoke thought and encourage dialogue and team work. We’ll also take on board student and staff feedback from the previous two activities. Plato once wrote that ‘our need will be the real creator’, put more colloquially, necessity is the mother of all invention, and that is certainly true of our first week activity.
Who knows what exciting ideas and posters will be demonstrated this time, but one thing is for sure Criminology students have the opportunity to flex their activism, prepare to campaign for social justice, in the process becoming real #Changemakers.
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Food Banks: The Deserving vs Undeserving
A term that has been grating on me recently is ‘hard work’. I have had a recent bout of watching lots of television. From my observations it appears that more commentators within the media have grasped the idea that the continued need for Food Banks in the United Kingdom is awful. Yet commentators still continue with the same old deserving/undeserving tripe which has existed for centuries (which CRI2002 students are well-aware of). That being, that we should be concerned about food banks… ‘because now even hard-working people are using them!’, aka those within formal (preferably full-time) employment.
What is it that is not being said by such a statement? That being unable to survive off benefits is perfectly fine for people who are unemployed as they do not deserve to eat? If that is the case perhaps a reconsideration of the life experiences of many unemployed people is needed.
To provide some examples, a person might claim unemployment benefits because they are feeling mentally unwell or harmful to themselves but a variety of concerns have prevented them from seeking additional support and claiming sickness benefits, in this situation working hard on survival might be prioritised over formal employment. Another person might sacrifice their work life to work hard to unofficially care for relatives who have slipped through cracks and are unknown to social services, whilst not reaching out for support due to fear/a lack of trust social services – they have good reasons to be concerned. Some people might have dropped out of formal employment due to experiencing a traumatic life event(/s) which means that they now need to work hard on their own well-being. Or, shock-horror, people may be claiming unemployment benefits because they are working hard post-pandemic to find a job which pays enough for them to survive.
Let’s not forget that many of those who access Food Banks are on sickness benefits because they cannot work due to experiencing a physical and/or mental health disability. The underserving/deserving divide appears to be further blurred these days as those who claim sickness benefits are frequently accused of being benefits cheats and therefore undeserving of benefits and Food Bank usage. Even so, the acknowledgement of disability and Food Bank usage within the media is rare.
Is it really ok to perceive that the quality of a person’s life and deserved access to necessities should depend on their formal employment status?
There is twisted logic in the recent conservative government discourse about hard work. There is the claim that if we all work hard we will reap the rewards, yet in the same breath ‘deserving hard workers’ are living from payslip to payslip due to the cost of living crisis, poor quality pay and employment. Hence the need to use Food Banks.
The conservatives hard working mantra that all people can easily gain employment is certainly a prejudiced assumption. With oppressive, profit seeking, exploitative and poor quality employment there is little room allowed for humans to deal with their personal, family life pains and struggles which makes job retention very difficult. Perhaps the media commentators need a re-phrase: It is awful that any person needs to use a Food Bank!
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‘Gentleminions’: the rise of…media demonisation?
Recently one of the main ‘stories’ which appear to be filling up my newsfeeds on social media, is around the latest TikTok trend: ‘Gentleminions’ and the havoc this appears to be causing Cinemas. I am yet to see the film Minions 2: The Rise of Gru but have no doubt I will as a fan of the little, yellow and mischievous title characters, and their ‘villainous’ boss. However, what has become apparent from reading the news articles which have come about from the TikTok trend and the “terrible menace” these ‘gentleminions’ pose (Heritage, 2022), is that yet again, the media appear to be demonising young people and their pastimes, something which has been fairly consistent since the emergence of the independent press back in Victorian England.
The trend involves, “teenagers”, “young people”, “youngsters” and/or “kids” watching Minions 2 dressed in formalwear as an imitation of some ‘famous’ TikTok users (Gill, 2022; Heritage, 2022; Hirwani, 2022). Seems pretty harmless, however there have been reports of “shouting and mimicking the minions” (Hirwani, 2022), “honk full volume gibberish” (Heritage, 2022), “rowdy behaviour from groups of teens” (Gill, 2022). Again, all seems fairly harmless, albeit possibly annoying. Yet, there have also been reports of “vandalism, throwing objects and abusing staff” (Gill, 2022). What I can’t help but utter is a sense of: here we go again, in relation to young people and the next wave of nuisance or harm they pose to society. It verges on the notion of demonising young people for being young people… something the British media is all to well versed in.
My thoughts wonder back to the infamous media portrayal of events which occurred on the Bank Holiday weekend back in 1964 with those violent and dangerous young people affiliated with the Mods and Rockers… oh wait a minute! That was a misrepresentation and portrayal of events which lead to what we know recognise as a moral panic (excuse the oversimplification). I wonder if this ‘gentleminion’ trend will follow suit? The media has consistently reported on the nuisance these young people are causing and the refunds given by cinemas to unhappy customers who have been unable to enjoy the film. Focusing on the damage caused by these youngsters in vague terms and without any real evidence. It is interesting that the media flocks to the negative portrayal of these youth, mirroring Hendrick’s (2015) point that children and their pastimes represent a moral threat to society, hence the continual interest in them.
The Guardian’s portrayal is slightly more positive, whilst including the narrative of the “terrible menace” these ‘Gentleminions’ pose, Heritage (2022) also presents the idea that this trend could be a positive trend for cinema and film considering the struggles they faced with the pandemic and the uprising of streaming services. Who knows: maybe cinema will take Heritage’s (2022) idea about having select screenings to allow and encourage young people to attend the film and practice their ‘gibberish’, whilst allowing other film goers the chance to view the film without the distraction? More than likely, true to form, this will all blow over in a week or so, but it does make you wonder why the media haven’t learned from previous experience and doesn’t just “leave them kids alone” (Pink Floyd, 1972).
References:
Cohen, S. (2002) Folk Devils and Moral Panics, 3rd edn. London: Routledge.
Gill, E. (2022) Cinemas banning teens in suits from watching Minions amid TikTok #gentleminions trend, Manchester Evening News, 6th July [online], Available at: https://www.manchestereveningnews.co.uk/news/greater-manchester-news/minions-movie-wearing-suits-banned-24411350 [Accessed 6th July 2022].
Hendrick, H. (2015) Histories of youth crime and youth justice. In: Goldson, B. and Muncie, J. (eds.) Youth Crime and Justice. 2nd ed. London: Sage Publications, pp.1-16.
Heritage, S. (2022) The teens disrupting Minions screenings might actually be the saviours of cinema, The Guardian, 5th July [online], Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2022/jul/05/teens-disrupting-minions-screenings-gentleminions-despicable-me-rise-of-gru [Accessed 6th July 2022].
Hirwani, P. (2022) Minions: Cinemas ban teens in suits following the ‘gentleminions’ TikTok trend, The Independent, 5th July [online], Available at: https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/films/news/minions-theatres-ban-gentleminions-teens-b2115800.html [Accessed 6th July 2022].
Pink Floyd (1972) Another Brick in the Wall, Pt 2 (2011 Remastered), Available from: Amazon Music [Accessed 6th July 2022].
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Capitalism and tourism: an ethical conundrum
After a two-year delay in our holiday booking due to the Covid pandemic, my wife and I were fortunate enough to spend a two-week holiday in Cape Verde (Cabo Verde) on the island of Sal. We’ve been lucky enough to visit the islands several times over the last ten years. Our first visit was to Boa Vista but since the hotel that we liked no longer seemed to be available through our tour operators, we ended up going to Sal. When we first visited Boa Vista, there was little to be found outside of the hotel other than deserted beaches and the crashing of the Atlantic waves on the seashore. There was a very large hotel on the other side of the island and a smattering of smaller hotels dotted around, but that was it. After several visits we began to notice that other hotels were popping up along the seashore and there was a definite sense of development to cater for the holiday trade. The same can be said of Sal. The first hotel we visited had only just been built and there were the foundations of other buildings creeping up alongside but in the main, it seemed pretty deserted. Now though there are hotels everywhere and a fairly new very large one not that far away from where we stayed.
The first thing you notice as a visitor to the islands is that this is not an affluent country, far from it. Take a short trip into the town centre and you very rapidly see and sense the pervading poverty. This is a former Portuguese colony, and it comes as no surprise that it played a strategic role in the slave trade until the late nineteenth century whereupon it saw a rapid economic decline. Tourism has boosted the economy and plays a significant role in the country’s population, and this became even more evident during our latest visit. The country is only just recovering from the pandemic and several of the hotels were still mothballed as were the various businesses along the sea front. I’m not sure what the situation was or is in the country with regards to welfare, but I wouldn’t mind betting that they’d never heard of the word furlough, let alone implemented any such scheme. Quite simply no tourism means no work and no work means no wages, such as they are. In conversation with a number of the staff at the hotel, it became obvious that they were not only pleased we were there, but that they wanted us to return again. We were often asked if we would come back and one person, I spoke to pleadingly asked us to return as ‘we need the job’. Of course, it’s not just us that need to return, it’s all the tourists. Tourism supports so many aspects of the economy, not just jobs in hotels but local businesses as well. I think the fact that we keep going back there says something about the lovely people that we’ve been privileged to meet.
But then as I sat one night contently sipping a gin and tonic, debating whether I should have another before dinner, I began to think about whether all of this was ethical. The hotel we stayed in was part of a large international chain. Nearly all the hotels are part of large multinational corporations servicing their shareholders. Whilst my relaxation and enjoyment is great for me, it is on the back of the exploitative nature of the service industry. A business that probably doesn’t pay high wages, those working in the service industry in this country can probably attest to that, so goodness knows what it’s like in an impoverished place such as Cape Verde. My enjoyment therefore promotes exploitation and yet vis-a- vie enables people to have much needed work and pay. Of course, I may have this all wrong and the companies are pouring millions into the country to improve living standards for the inhabitants, and they may pay wages that are very reasonable. But somehow, because of the nature of business, and the eye on profit margins, I very much doubt it. When businesses consider business ethics, I wonder how far they cast the ethical net? As for me, it’s a bit of Catch 22, damned if you do and damned if you don’t. But then so much of life seems to be like that.
Thoughts from the criminology team 