Breivik's trial now focuses on victims

Breivik's trial continues - but the attention is no longer on the killer.

The court lecture played faithfully into the absurd image he has constructed for himself – Commander Anders Behring Breivik, the gallant defender of Norway.

"If anyone wants to throw something, you can throw it at me,” Commander Breivik admonished the Olso court after the brother of one of his victims hurled a shoe.

The accused gunman and bomber murdered 77 people on July 22 last year, most of them teenagers executed at close range. But they were legitimate targets. Vibeke Hein Bæra, hit gently by footwear aimed at him, was an innocent bystander. Commander Breivik was honour-bound to intervene: “Don’t throw things at my lawyers.”

It was one of several opportunities he has taken to try to regain the attention of a court which has moved on despite him, and attempt to re-establish himself as the hero of his own trial. The contrast with the genuine heroism of some of the survivors from his rampage on the holiday island of Utoya last year could hardly be starker.

Tonje Brenna, 24, terrified, under fire, watching her friends die around her, picked up and carried a wounded 14 year old girl to the relative safety of a steep cliff edge. She slid down to shelter only after guiding others, then held the wounded girl in her arms, willing her to stay awake, while Commander Breivik stood at the top of the rock face, letting out yelps of joy as his bullets found their teenage targets.

Faced with this story of heroism - one of many heard by the court over the last three weeks - Commander Breivik smiled contemptuously and shook his head.

Beneath Ms Brenna, in the shallow water of the lake, a 17 year old boy, Viljar Hanssen, shot five times, felt for his eye. He couldn’t find it. Instead he reached through the gap in his head and touched his brain. While trying to take stock of his injuries – the three fingers dangling by a thread from his hand, the wounds in his shoulder, arm and leg, and the bullet hole in his head – Viljar could only think of his brother. He had kicked him to safety when the first shots found his own flesh and ordered the younger boy to swim to safety.

Disfigured now, unable to run and ski the way he could before and still unsure about the effects the missing part of his brain might have on his life, Viljar made the court laugh by saying that at least missing an eye meant he didn’t have to look at his would-be killer while he testified. When he described his delight at discovering his brother was unhurt then spoke unselfishly, with stirring fraternal compassion, about the younger boy’s own island ordeal, several in the court cried. Almost nobody was left unmoved.

Commander Breivik took notes. Nothing he has seen so far has shaken his belief that he is the only real hero at the trial. He is defending Norway against “Islamic colonisation” by striking at the heart of the “leftist” establishment. Presumably that is why he was screamed, “today you will die Marxists,” at the unarmed children he was gunning down on the island, and why he was satisfied enough at his work to call the police and proclaim, “this is Commander Breivik... Mission accomplished.”

He is not a commander in the established sense.  He’s not been in any of the forces; never even served his normally obligatory year’s national service. He is, however, part of an imagined pan-European chivalric order, The Knights Templar, similar to the online guilds he was so familiar with from playing World of Warcraft 16 hours a day for a whole year.

He also has a uniform. There are camp pictures of him wearing it in the manifesto he emailed to hundreds of supposedly like-minded right-wingers in the hours before the slaughter. But he has dropped his demands to be allowed to wear it in the court – presumably on the advice of his defence team who would argue that in seeking to be sentenced as a sane man, he should ditch anything which might make him look anything but.

There must be disappointment. The uniform was supposed to have been part of the propaganda front Mr Breivik believed he would be able to sustain throughout the course of this ten week trial. But the media have largely been and gone. He has already been given his legal opportunity to preach his ideology and has now been pushed aside. Now, try as he might to wrestle back some attention, as brave witnesses to the Utoya massacre relive their island nightmares, he has been relegated to a sideshow in his own show trial.

Mark Lewis tweets @markantonylewis
 

One of the survivors of Breivik's massacre Photograph: Getty Images
Getty
Show Hide image

The deafening killer - why noise will be the next great pollution scandal

A growing body of evidence shows that noise can have serious health impacts too. 

Our cities are being poisoned by a toxin that surrounds us day and night. It eats away at our brains, hurts our hearts, clutches at our sleep, and gnaws at the quality of our daily lives.

Hardly a silent killer, it gets short shrift compared to the well-publicised terrors of air pollution and sugars food. It is the dull, thumping, stultifying drum-beat of perpetual noise.

The score that accompanies city life is brutal and constant. It disrupts the everyday: The coffee break ruined by the screech of a line of double decker buses braking at the lights. The lawyer’s conference call broken by drilling as she makes her way to the office. The writer’s struggle to find a quiet corner to pen his latest article.

For city-dwellers, it’s all-consuming and impossible to avoid. Construction, traffic, the whirring of machinery, the neighbour’s stereo. Even at home, the beeps and buzzes made by washing machines, fridges, and phones all serve to distract and unsettle.

But the never-ending noisiness of city life is far more than a problem of aesthetics. A growing body of evidence shows that noise can have serious health impacts too. Recent studies have linked noise pollution to hearing loss, sleep deprivation, hypertension, heart disease, brain development, and even increased risk of dementia.

One research team compared families living on different stories of the same building in Manhattan to isolate the impact of noise on health and education. They found children in lower, noisier floors were worse at reading than their higher-up peers, an effect that was most pronounced for children who had lived in the building for longest.

Those studies have been replicated for the impact of aircraft noise with similar results. Not only does noise cause higher blood pressure and worsens quality of sleep, it also stymies pupils trying to concentrate in class.

As with many forms of pollution, the poorest are typically the hardest hit. The worst-off in any city often live by busy roads in poorly-insulated houses or flats, cheek by jowl with packed-in neighbours.

The US Department of Transport recently mapped road and aircraft noise across the United States. Predictably, the loudest areas overlapped with some of the country’s most deprived. Those included the south side of Atlanta and the lowest-income areas of LA and Seattle.

Yet as noise pollution grows in line with road and air traffic and rising urban density, public policy has turned a blind eye.

Council noise response services, formally a 24-hour defence against neighbourly disputes, have fallen victim to local government cuts. Decisions on airport expansion and road development pay scant regard to their audible impact. Political platforms remain silent on the loudest poison.

This is odd at a time when we have never had more tools at our disposal to deal with the issue. Electric Vehicles are practically noise-less, yet noise rarely features in the arguments for their adoption. Just replacing today’s bus fleet would transform city centres; doing the same for taxis and trucks would amount to a revolution.

Vehicles are just the start. Millions were spent on a programme of “Warm Homes”; what about “Quiet Homes”? How did we value the noise impact in the decision to build a third runway at Heathrow, and how do we compensate people now that it’s going ahead?

Construction is a major driver of decibels. Should builders compensate “noise victims” for over-drilling? Or could regulation push equipment manufacturers to find new ways to dampen the sound of their kit?

Of course, none of this addresses the noise pollution we impose on ourselves. The bars and clubs we choose to visit or the music we stick in our ears. Whether pumping dance tracks in spin classes or indie rock in trendy coffee shops, people’s desire to compensate for bad noise out there by playing louder noise in here is hard to control for.

The Clean Air Act of 1956 heralded a new era of city life, one where smog and grime gave way to clear skies and clearer lungs. That fight still goes on today.

But some day, we will turn our attention to our clogged-up airwaves. The decibels will fall. #Twitter will give way to twitter. And every now and again, as we step from our homes into city life, we may just hear the sweetest sound of all. Silence.

Adam Swersky is a councillor in Harrow and is cabinet member for finance. He writes in a personal capacity.