Inequality and social unrest - this is politics

“Keeping people safe is the first duty of government,” said David Cameron in the House of Commons after recalling parliament. Not a particularly surprising statement coming from a true conservative. But put into context, where what the prime minister is really saying is that the government’s main task is to protect one part of society from another, it not only explains to some degree how we ended up in this situation in the first place, but also expresses the idea of an ‘us’ and a ‘them’ which could lead to further segregation and unrest.

Cameron went on to say that the riots were “not about politics or protest – it was about theft,” and that “in too many cases, the parents of these children, if they’re still around, don’t care where their children are.” In other words, don’t blame the government – blame the parents. Which parents? Those in the ghettos, who don’t belong to ‘us’. Those from whom the government will protect you.

It’s easy to fall into the mindset of anger and vengeance and agree with Cameron. We’re all angry about what’s happened to our city: the amount of people who have lost their homes and livelihoods; the amount of taxes required to recover from this; how many of us suddenly no longer feel safe in our own streets. These crimes are inexcusable, so why pretend they’re justifiable?

They’re not, of course. This kind of deliberate destruction is never justifiable, be it in London or in Norway or in Iraq. But that doesn’t change the fact that it feels a bit as though a rhetoric comfortably suitable to the boys in charge – and I’m talking about the government here, not the rioters – has been shoved down our throats and we’re too angry to question it.

There’s an inherent flaw in the argument that these people are mindless scum and hence the whole thing is apolitical. Aren’t we suggesting that they’re too ignorant to see what they’re doing to their own communities? Aren’t we saying that they’re mindless enough not to care? Well that, people, is politics.

If thousands of young citizens are convinced that there’s no place in society for them, if they’re so disconnected from their own city that they feel like they have nothing to lose and it makes no difference if they go and smash it to bits and burn it down, then we’re failing somewhere.

It could be the British class system and the segregation, or perhaps the increase in higher education fees and slashing of means-tested grants. Perhaps it’s the sometimes completely unjustified stopping and searching of certain groups of people (intended to keep other groups of people safe, I guess). Maybe it’s a cocktail of all of the above, along with a long list of issues which I, as a middle-class creative in Crouch End, don’t even know exist.

Then there’s the added complication of the fact that peaceful protests don’t work, that people came out in droves to show their dissatisfaction with the suggested increase in higher education fees and were ignored. Some would say that the government lost its mandate right there and then. Those rioting in the streets of London and other cities may not have had a political agenda in mind, but we’re not exactly encouraging them to either: it’s pretty clear that the politicians don’t want to listen to them. That politicians, on top of that, show a complete lack of respect for public funds by abusing the expense system probably doesn’t help.

We’ve got to dare to ask ourselves what went wrong that led to these riots, and in doing so we have to admit that these people are real citizens who have to be a part of society. The right-wing rhetoric of making the rioters into mindless monsters may fit very well in with an ideology that insists that a certain level of unemployment is necessary as an incentive for people to work hard, but it’s not only proven wrong by the events in Britain over the past week – it’s also exactly the kind of talk that confirms to these people that they don’t belong and that society doesn’t want them.

Cameron wants to protect one part of society from another, the one outside of it. On Twitter, another suggestion came up: how about social justice and equality instead?

What the royal wedding taught us

1. You are what you wear – if you’re a woman

If I hear one more fashion editor’s orgasmic praise of the stupidly expensive creation of some ‘it’ designer of the moment, or see another picture of a ridiculous headpiece that does nothing but hinder its owner from entering a building with normal doors (as if that would ever happen on the day of a royal wedding), I think I might throw up. Seriously. The stupidity of one commentator’s outbursts fades in comparison to another’s, and the scrutiny of the bodies and dress senses of the women who were invited to today’s big event seemed endless. Was anyone betting like crazy on what colour suit Prince Charles would wear or what stylist would get the honour of doing Harry’s hair? Did anyone really care that Nick Clegg looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks?

2. A veil is a veil is a veil

As the burqa ban in France is dubbed “a victory for tolerance” on the basis that covering one’s face is an act against liberal values and openness regardless of its motivation, and similar laws are considered in other European countries on grounds of equality and women’s rights, Kate covers her face with a silk ivory-tulle veil as her father walks her up the aisle. Not as an act against openness or because she needs it to protect her, nor because her future husband refuses to share her beauty with the world, but maybe to invoke a sense of purity and innocence, or perhaps simply because of tradition. But as she is handed over to the prince and her veil is lifted, rightly or wrongly, the fact that a veil is a veil becomes painfully clear; us westerners suddenly seem hypocritical at best, and I can’t help but wonder: what’s behind the veil, when does it stop being beautiful and start being controlling, and who am I to decide what another woman can or can’t wear?

3. The monarchy, along with the wider aristocracy and the church, is patriarchal through and through

The royal wedding was like a satire of something from the early 1900s, where women are good for nothing but pleasing the eye. While no one will be surprised that The Very Reverend and his buddies were all male, I was surprised and disappointed – perhaps naively so – by the fact that not one single woman bar Kate’s sister, who mainly got to run around like a servant, got to participate in the ceremony in an active way. The interiors were thought out by a male designer, the music was provided by a boys’ choir, and the wedding song was composed by a man. And as much as I hate to sully the fairytale tradition of a father walking his daughter down the aisle to hand her over to the new man in her life, the restrictive, almost aggressive way in which this was done as Kath’s father lifted her hand and put it into the priest’s, whereby he grabbed it and lifted it across to put it firmly in Will’s, made me wonder why she bothered at all to remove the line where she would vow to obey her husband forever.

4. Britain’s class system is as strong and present as ever

That a well-educated woman who went to a private boarding school and whose parents are successful business owners is repeatedly referred to as a “commoner” is just one of many signs of how protective the aristocracy is of its status, but as millions of Britons of different backgrounds clearly think that it’s perfectly normal to watch these two random people get married, spending billions of tax payers’ pounds, I’m forced to admit that it’s not just the well-off themselves who seem keen to preserve status quo.Some people have eagerly suggested that Kate, the commoner that she is, will change the image of the royal family forever. I wouldn’t hold my breath. As Guardian writer Amanda Marcotte was quoted to have said, “I’m glad that the royal family has caught up to the 1920s. I look forward to an exciting new future when the women start wearing pants and the men learn how to hold infants.”