I was recently reading a collection of George Orwell’s journalism for The Observer when I was struck by a review of Branch Street, a 1944 non-fiction book by Mrs. Marie Paneth, an Austrian who had spent several years working with what we would now call “disadvantaged” children living in a slum near the centre of London.
Orwell describes the children as “little better than savages”. He continues: “They were not only dirty, ragged, under-nourished and unbelievably obscene in language and corrupt in outlook, but they were all thieves, and as intractable as wild animals… A few of the girls were comparatively approachable, but the boys simply smashed up the play centre over and over again, sometimes breaking in at night to do the job more thoroughly, and at times it was even dangerous for a grown-up to venture among them single-handed.”
As for their prospects, he writes: “With such a background they have neither the chance of a worthwhile job nor, as a rule, the capacity for steady work. At best they find their way into some blind-alley occupation, but are more likely to end up in crime or prostitution,”
Orwell concludes: “’Branch Street’ will go on creating wild and hopeless children until it has been abolished and rebuilt along with the other streets that have the same atmosphere”. In other words, not enough had been done to clear the slums.
There are, of course, a number of differences compared with modern semi-feral, sociopathic children. Evidence would suggest there are a lot more of them for a start. Cleanliness and “raggedness” isn’t a problem any more, given that every council flat has a bath, hot and cold running water, and central heating, and benefits ensure there’s money for new clothes (and, if there isn’t, you can always nick ‘em). The children are still malnourished, of course, but now it’s thanks to pizzas and KFC and MacDonalds, and they’re more likely to be too fat rather than too thin.
As for the similarities, they are legion: obscene language, disregard for rules, mindless and persistent violence, unemployability and criminality. And, of course, now that the little beasts have got knives and guns, any lone adult venturing amongst them probably wouldn’t stand a chance – unless he was a heavily-armed local drug dealer.
Orwell – and the saintly lady who wrote the book - saw “Branch Street” as a “a forgotten corner of the nineteenth century”. Once the last vestiges of the Victorian slums had been cleared away, he assumed, all children would become civilized.
Of course, all the country’s “Branch Streets” were flattened in favour of tower blocks on estates with lots of open spaces for children to play in. The left-wing consensus that has basically held sway in this country for the past 65 years has ensured “decent” housing, universal education and benefits for all. And yet, in every sizable town and city in Britain, “Branch Street” still exists – and, depressingly, probably always will.
Why? No idea, really. Maybe partly because modern architects were so assiduous in replacing one form of soul-sapping ugliness with another. And perhaps because liberals have always assumed that moral health would flow from a mixture of a socialist education and the automatic provision of what they consider to be the basic necessities of life. The sort of children our modern version of Branch Street produces seems to be a testament to the destructive power of cultural poverty, the fostering of a “victim” mentality, and the malign compassion involved in paying people not to stand on their own two feet.
Or maybe none of the above. Answers on a postcard, please…
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