Whose green? Whose turf? Whose space?

Whose green?  Whose turf?  Whose space? Questions that the summer edition’s editorial article suggested we address in order to explain the violent and threatening behaviour of those youths who drove local residents from Butterfield Green one Sunday afternoon in May.

If, as it plausibly contended, the youths’ actions were a manifestation of their resentment at the encroachment of others onto ‘their turf’, are we expected to empathise with them?  Is the suggestion that, in drawing up plans for community space, residents  ought to respect the boundaries perceived by groups of youths or gangs, and collude with them in making such spaces no-go areas for everyone else?

Although the article claimed not to be seeking to justify the youths’ behaviour, by attaching validity to their perceptions of ‘turf’ this is precisely what it appeared to be doing. And why was it seen as relevant to mention that some of those driven from the Green have their own gardens?  Should they feel guilty about the middle-classed-ness of this fact, and must they be reminded to stick to their own ‘turf’?  If so, there would appear to be no hope for breaking down the boundaries that exist between what the article described as ‘us’ and ‘them’.

People are social creatures, and ‘culture’ is part of our social framework, a means by which we attempt to define ourselves. The places we go, the people we meet, and the things that we do can all reflect and influence our cultural values.

So it is not surprising that people, young and old, attach personal and cultural importance to ‘place’, or ‘turf’.  But this absolute obsession with territory amongst a significant sub-sector of youth, and its use as a vehicle through which to perpetuate an endless list of idiotic actions and concepts, such as ‘repping your hood’ (ie hanging about in a feral kind of way, and sniffing for spoor of unwelcome outsiders), and showing ‘respect’ (ie glorifying fear, and aspiring to be feared) for people whose actions in no way deserve genuine respect, tells an ugly story about the way in which they have chosen to construct their own identities, their own culture.

In order to explain the thuggish behaviour of those youths at Butterfield Green, rather than simply asking, ‘whose turf’, we ought to question other aspects of their culture, such as who their role models are, what values they aspire to, and whose company they seek. We should also ask what these youths actually do with their time (apart from patrolling their turf).  Could it be that their anger stems from the fact that they can no longer engage in undesirable activities whilst respectable families are in the vicinity?  My guess is that the answers might be less than encouraging, but at least they would be illustrative, and they might help inform the beginnings of a constructive solution.

I don’t often visit Butterfield Green, and I wasn’t there on the Sunday in question.  I do, however, live in a house nearby with a little back garden that I can enjoy in the summer.  But I do not believe that the fact of my garden ought to restrict my right of movement beyond it, or that I should feel guilty about having one in the first place.

And its tiny proportions are not my reason for wanting to escape its confines sometimes – it is my desire to enjoy the public space that we are all entitled to.  I love the diversity of Hackney, the buzzing street corners, the limited but much appreciated green spaces; and I want to be part of it.  I want to interact with the people around me, even if this might just mean exchanging a smile with a stranger.

None of us can be blamed for the circumstances and social class into which we were born, and it is natural that we choose to visit places and people with whom we feel comfortable. So if I confide that I don’t personally know any disaffected local youths to invite round for tea, this should not be any more surprising than the probability that they do not know any 40-something middle-classed women like me, and would in all likelihood reject an invitation to tea anyway.

But that does not mean I have any desire to banish these youths to the shadowlands, and nor should it mean that they feel the need to chuck bottles at me if I want to go for a walk in Butterfield Green.  None of us should be satisfied with the degree of segregation in our society, and in order to make this a less dysfunctional one we should be trying to push beyond our comfort zones and get to know the ‘others’ who live in our neighbourhood too.

July’s editorial was right to say that the youths at Butterfield Green are still part of the community towards which residents should have a sense of responsibility.  What to do when the youths themselves have made it perfectly clear that being part of the wider community is precisely what they do not want?  First of all, talk to them, ask them all the questions that need to be asked to unearth their motives and desires. Make provision within the park for activities they can become involved with.

But ultimately it is also the responsibility of all of us to challenge some of the unpalatable aspects of youth culture, including segregation by ‘turf’ or ‘manor’. Shaquille Smith, the 14 year old Hackney boy who became the 25th child to be murdered in London this year by other youths, was the latest human victim of turf wars.  It would be an insult to him and all the others if we allowed gangs of youths to dictate the boundaries between ‘us’ and ‘them’ at Butterfield Green.