[61] The Kids Are Alright

Last night in my club, a few of us were deep in conversation about the youths of today. It began with someone bemoaning the fact that the previous night, he and his wife were kept awake by hoons careering around the neighbourhood.

To the uninitiated, ie non-Australians, hoons drive their souped-up cars through deserted residential streets in the early hours and noisily perform suicidal hand-brake turns and various death-defying stunts which frighten the lieges and keep them awake.

The conversation progressed from hoons to vandals. Apparently the youths of today are intent on destroying all that is good, with senseless vandalism and an abundance of graffiti appearing to soil the landscape with each new dawn.

Then it was selfishness and general disrespect. One woman complained that she could no longer enjoy her Saturday afternoon visits to the shopping mall because, “There is a cinema there and it attracts hundreds of youngsters who hang around and make lots of noise.”

“What do they do when they’re hanging around?” I asked, wondering what it was that I had missed on my many visits to the same shopping mall.

“Oh, they just walk around making a noise and having fun,” she replied, “They just have no respect for other people.” She screwed up her face as if she were describing some bloodthirsty satanic ritual. I imagined that this “lack of respect” manifested itself in the youngsters not making themselves scarce and leaving the entire shopping mall to their elders and betters.

“When I was a boy,” began another. “We respected our elders. We would never dream of being cheeky and if we did, our parents would beat us black and blue.”

“That’s right,” agreed yet another. “We were terrified of our fathers in those days. Nowadays the kids get away with whatever they like.”

Yeah, I thought. Like going to the shopping mall and spending their pocket-money and terrorising older people by being alive and having fun. Even loud fun, damn them.

First of all, I am well aware that hoons are a problem and a danger, albeit mainly to each other. I am also conscious of the vandalism and graffiti that can be seen on a daily basis, and on that score, Australia is no different to the United Kingdom. But we older people need to get this into some sort of perspective. Only a very small proportion of Australian youths are, or ever have been hoons. Only a very, very miniscule minority of youngsters are vandals and graffiteurs. And more importantly – and I have noticed this in the UK too – far too many of us are very quick to criticise and demonise youngsters just for being there. Regardless of the fact that they are not committing any crime and are not terrorising people, some of us tend to see a group of youngsters merely going about their lawful business, as a threat to our well-being and safety.

“When we were young, we were out and about doing all sorts of things,” said Bob. “Today’s youngsters sit in their rooms all the time playing with computers and play-stations and watching DVDs and stuff.”

“Hold on a minute there Bob,” I interjected. “How can they be in their rooms all the time playing with computers AND be out hooning and vandalising and terrorising you and me in shopping malls?”

I think my point was lost in the general hubbub of agreement with Bob.

“Where will this technology end?” Bob asked me, almost accusingly.

“Technology will never end,” I replied. “Why should it? Why would you want it to?”

“But when I was a boy all we had was the wireless. Then eventually the television.”

If you are under 40 and reading this. A wireless is what we old-timers used to call a radio.

“Yes,” I agreed. “But when I was a boy watching TV, my gran used to say – we didn’t sit watching TV when we were young.”

I am sure that upon the introduction of the domestic wireless, grans and grandads up and down the country condemned this “new technology” which was keeping youngsters indoors all day long.

Back in Scotland, youths would regularly hang around in groups on street corners. Of course, a few would abuse alcohol and end up causing vandalism and worse, but for the most part, they caused no trouble. It was a common occurrence though for the police to be called to attend to a group of youths who were simply hanging around. They may have been a bit boisterous and at times noisy, but I have witnessed instances where the police were called to a group of youngsters at seven o’clock on a warm Saturday evening in the middle of Summer.

My wife and I were on our way to visit my brother and as we walked along the street, about a dozen youngsters were standing around talking and laughing. As we approached, they were blocking the pavement and we were happy to step onto the road to get round them. Before we could make such a manoeuvre, one of the youths spotted our approach and ushered his friends in, away from the road, allowing us safe passage without having to step onto the road. One of the youngsters, who had his back to us, turned and apologised as he stepped aside to allow us to pass. My wife and I offered up a quick “Thank you” which was met with a polite “No problem mate.”

After about ten minutes in my brother’s house, we noticed the police had arrived and were telling the youths to move on. My brother informed me that it happens all the time.

“They’re standing around doing no harm,” he said. “Then some sad bastard phones the cops to get them moved away.”

When I was a teenager back in Motherwell, there was a large school campus in the neighbourhood. The campus included two full-size football pitches with proper goals and nets. One Sunday afternoon when the school was obviously closed and the gates securely locked, about twenty or so football-mad boys, myself included, climbed over the perimeter fence and began to enjoy a game of good old-fashioned football – soccer to my Antipodean readers. Within ten minutes, a police car arrived and a couple of policemen emerged and called us over to the fence. A few of the footballers, obviously with reason to fear such a request, scarpered in the opposite direction. A couple of my friends and I approached nervously.

“Sorry lads,” said one of the coppers. “But we have had a complaint from local residents about the noise.”

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” I protested.

“Of course you’re not sonny. Believe me when I say we’d rather you were all in here playing football than out in the streets.”

“Here’s what we’ll do,” said the other copper. “Make yourselves scarce for a few minutes and as soon as we drive off, come back and continue with your game.”

“Seriously?” I said, half suspecting some sort of trap.

“Seriously. It’s a bloody shame you can’t be allowed to use a big football pitch on a Sunday afternoon without some idiot complaining to us. But we have to be seen to be following up, because officially the school is closed.”

So we climbed the fence and pretended to trundle off home until the police car disappeared over the horizon. We climbed back over the fence and continued our game.

So it seems that we, the older generation are the same the world over, and always have been. Some of us are too quick to forget that we were young once.

It really is time we took the real bad guys to task, and left the vast majority of our law-abiding youngsters to get on with living, instead of tarring them all with the same brush – a brush of convenience.

They’re not all bad. Just like not all of us are moaning old gits.