George Monbiot writes:
Until the late 19th century much of our city
space was owned by private landlords. Squares were gated, streets were
controlled by turnpikes.
The great unwashed, many of whom had been expelled
from the countryside by acts of enclosure, were also excluded from desirable
parts of town.
Social reformers and democratic movements tore
down the barriers, and public space became a right, not a privilege.
But social
exclusion follows inequality as night follows day, and now, with little
public debate, our city centres are again being privatised or semi-privatised.
They are being turned by the companies that run them into soulless, cheerless,
pasteurised piazzas, in which plastic policemen harry anyone loitering without
intent to shop.
Street life in these places is reduced to a
trance-world of consumerism, of conformity and atomisation in which nothing
unpredictable or disconcerting happens, a world made safe for selling mountains
of pointless junk to tranquillised shoppers.
Spontaneous gatherings of any
other kind – unruly, exuberant, open-ended, oppositional – are banned.
Young, homeless and eccentric people are, in the eyes of those upholding this dead-eyed, sanitised version of public order, guilty until proven innocent.
Young, homeless and eccentric people are, in the eyes of those upholding this dead-eyed, sanitised version of public order, guilty until proven innocent.
Now this dreary ethos is creeping into places
that are not, ostensibly, owned or controlled by corporations.
It is enforced less by gates and barriers (though plenty of these are reappearing) than by legal instruments, used to exclude or control the ever widening class of undesirables.
It is enforced less by gates and barriers (though plenty of these are reappearing) than by legal instruments, used to exclude or control the ever widening class of undesirables.
The existing rules are bad enough.
Introduced by
the 1998
Crime and Disorder Act, antisocial behaviour orders (asbos) have
criminalised an apparently endless range of activities, subjecting thousands –
mostly young and poor – to bespoke laws.
They have been used to enforce a kind
of caste prohibition: personalised rules which prevent the untouchables from
intruding into the lives of others.
You get an asbo for behaving in a manner deemed
by a magistrate as likely to cause harassment, alarm or distress to other
people. Under this injunction, the proscribed behaviour becomes a criminal offence.
Asbos have been granted which forbid the carrying of condoms by a prostitute,
homeless alcoholics from possessing alcohol in a public place, a soup kitchen
from giving food to the poor, a young man from walking down any road other than
his own, children from playing football in the street. They were used to ban
peaceful protests against the Olympic clearances.
Inevitably, more than half the people subject to
asbos break them. As Liberty says, these injunctions "set the young,
vulnerable or mentally ill up to fail", and fast-track them into the
criminal justice system.
They allow the courts to imprison people for offences
which are not otherwise imprisonable. One homeless young man was sentenced
to five years in jail for begging: an offence for which no custodial
sentence exists. Asbos permit the police and courts to create their own laws
and their own penal codes.
All this is about to get much worse.
On Wednesday the Antisocial Behaviour, Crime and Policing Bill reaches its report stage (close to the end of the process) in the House of Lords. It is remarkable how little fuss has been made about it, and how little we know of what is about to hit us.
On Wednesday the Antisocial Behaviour, Crime and Policing Bill reaches its report stage (close to the end of the process) in the House of Lords. It is remarkable how little fuss has been made about it, and how little we know of what is about to hit us.
The bill would permit injunctions against anyone
of 10 or older who "has engaged or threatens to engage in conduct capable
of causing nuisance or annoyance to any person".
It would replace asbos
with ipnas (injunctions to prevent nuisance and annoyance), which would not
only forbid certain forms of behaviour, but also force the recipient to
discharge positive obligations.
In other words, they can impose a kind of
community service order on people who have committed no crime, which could, the
law proposes, remain in force for the rest of their lives.
The bill also introduces public space protection
orders, which can prevent either everybody or particular kinds of people from
doing certain things in certain places.
It creates new dispersal powers, which can be used by the police to exclude people from an area (there is no size limit), whether or not they have done anything wrong.
It creates new dispersal powers, which can be used by the police to exclude people from an area (there is no size limit), whether or not they have done anything wrong.
While, as a result of a successful legal
challenge, asbos can be granted only if a court is satisfied beyond reasonable
doubt that antisocial behaviour took place, ipnas can be granted on the balance
of probabilities.
Breaching them will not be classed as a criminal offence, but
can still carry a custodial sentence: without committing a crime, you can be
imprisoned for up to two years.
Children, who cannot currently be detained for
contempt of court, will be subject to an inspiring new range of punishments for
breaking an ipna, including three months in a young offenders' centre.
Lord Macdonald, formerly the director of public
prosecutions, points out that "it is difficult to imagine a broader
concept than causing 'nuisance' or 'annoyance'".
The phrase is apt to
catch a vast range of everyday behaviours to an extent that may have serious
implications for the rule of law". Protesters, buskers, preachers: all, he
argues, could end up with ipnas.
The Home Office minister, Norman Baker, once a
defender of civil liberties, now the architect of the most oppressive bill
pushed through any recent parliament, claims that the amendments he offered in
December will "reassure people that basic liberties will not be
affected".
But Liberty describes them as "a little bit of window-dressing: nothing substantial has changed."
But Liberty describes them as "a little bit of window-dressing: nothing substantial has changed."
The new injunctions and the new dispersal orders
create a system in which the authorities can prevent anyone from doing more or
less anything. But they won't be deployed against anyone.
Advertisers, who
cause plenty of nuisance and annoyance, have nothing to fear; nor do opera
lovers hogging the pavements of Covent Garden.
Annoyance and nuisance are what young people cause; they are inflicted by oddballs, the underclass, those who dispute the claims of power.
Annoyance and nuisance are what young people cause; they are inflicted by oddballs, the underclass, those who dispute the claims of power.
These laws will be used to stamp out plurality
and difference, to douse the exuberance of youth, to pursue children for the
crime of being young and together in a public place, to help turn this nation
into a money-making monoculture, controlled, homogenised, lifeless, strifeless
and bland.
For a government which represents the old and the rich, that must
sound like paradise.
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