By Carmel Corrigan
In recent weeks, some of the Island’s children and young people have been making front page news, and it has made uncomfortable reading. Whether it was the exploitation of younger children in criminal enterprises or the sentencing of the young people who played a part in those crimes, the stories have generated strong feelings and a lot of debate.
As is so often the case with these kinds of deeply troubling issues, there has been – on social media, in particular – a reflex of defensive rhetoric, a strong and urgent desire to stamp out this behaviour and any chance of its recurrence. Zero tolerance, in other words.
Of course, this is a natural and, to some extent, understandable human reaction, but it is one that is borne out of emotion and fear. It is one that needs to be questioned with a cooler head, with an eye on a lasting and meaningful solution.
Make no mistake, I am not saying for a moment that there should not be consequences (serious ones, where appropriate) for young people who break the law, just as there are for adults. What I am saying, though, is that it is a community decision as to how we treat these young people, both before and when they do end up in conflict with the law.
No matter where you are in the world, there will always be a minority of young people who are, for many, much harder to care for, or even for people to care about. Some of these are the children who eventually wind up in court. They are also among the most disadvantaged and vulnerable children, some with learning needs, some with disabilities and many with fractured and troubled families.
These children have been described to me in many derogative ways, most worryingly as undeserving of our care and support beyond being locked up for as long as possible. They are rarely viewed as a part of any community in Jersey, and yet many of them will, most likely, go on to live their adult lives here. How are they to behave, then, within a community that has shown little care or support for them when things were escalating during one of the most difficult developmental stages of their lives? And how can we help prevent them from seeking the support and sense of belonging that they so desperately need in all the wrong places?
I believe we must begin by challenging the negative narrative, the ongoing discussions about these children and young people. The first step in changing this is for us all to speak up, both for and with these children, to promote the rights of our children – including our teenagers – and to stop the negative direction of travel in relation to those already excluded from any sense of community, of belonging, or of common purpose.
I know that many people will say that children, and particularly teenagers, are trouble, that they need to be contained, and that those who commit crimes must be punished, and punished harshly, to set the example that will deter their peers and protect everyone else.
This attitude also seemed to pervade many of the answers I was given when I first arrived in Jersey and wondered where all the young people were. I was frequently told, in disparaging tones, that I should go down to McDonald’s on a Friday evening or to Millennium Park, where they are always “hanging around”. It was as if, the moment you emerge from being a button-cute child into the awkward and noisy teenage years, you become, for many, an unwelcome object of suspicion.
However, this didn’t seem to tally up with the fact that most youth offending in the Island occurs at the lower end of the criminality scale. What, then, had the vast majority of young people done to deserve this level of distrust?
While I have still not found an answer to that question, I do think it is worth considering a different one: have we considered how much this distrust also works in the opposite direction?
Statistics Jersey’s recent survey of children and young people, for example, gives at least a chink of insight here: approximately one third (29% and 32%) of girls in years 10 and 12 would tell nobody if they were being sexually exploited, and 15% of all children in years 8, 10 and 12 would tell nobody if they were being criminally exploited. How trustworthy are we, then, as a community for children?
I have adult children. I know that teenagers can be challenging, and that they will experiment with all sorts of things, good and bad, and test all types of boundaries. It is commonplace, it is a stage of development that biology and society has created: it allows teenagers to test stepping into adulthood with the safety net of not yet bearing adult responsibilities. Surely, their community should support this development and welcome the largely well-adjusted adults that most will become in time. I know, or at least hope, that I am evidence of that trajectory!
The thought I would like to leave you with is this: surely the true measure of a community is not how well it integrates its most productive and positive members, but instead, the degree of compassion, understanding and openheartedness it is willing to show to the ones who, in the trials and tribulations of navigating adolescence, seem bent on its destruction.
