Yes, these rioters are thugs...

... but understanding why they are thugs is what matters now.

It's not often that the majority of the adult population who comment on youth-related issues are right. But since the riots erupted in Tottenham a week ago today, the youth who have destroyed buildings, set alight random cars and looted shops, have been labelled as "animals" and "thugs" and quite rightly so.

The excuse of government cuts, student tuition fees or the brutality of the police is a farcical and frankly ridiculous vindication for this indiscriminate thuggery.

The killing of Mark Duggan by a policeman in Tottenham last week was indeed the catalyst, but it also acted as a pretext for widespread looting by those who knew nothing about Duggan. One particular masked hoodlum confirmed my accusations about the riotous youth when, upon being asked by a Sky News reporter: "If you're law abiding then you've got no reason to fear the police," he replied: "But I'm not law abiding." No wonder Assistant Chief Constable Garry Shewan of Greater Manchester police says he has never witnessed anything like in his life this before in his life.

I tweeted on Saturday evening "# Tottenham is the first of many." I was right, it was all too obvious to me. Like Twitter and Facebook, the youth have become people who follow trends in a profoundly impulsive manner. For these opportunistic youngsters, the prospect of free trainers, TVs and apparently even 'sausage rolls' was something far too irresistible.

My only fear is that the riots may emerge again some time in the near future. It has become clear that sporadic and mass rioting will catch the police of guard if they have no intelligence beforehand. There is only one way to prevent this from happening in the future. Harsh penalties need to be meted out to those found guilty to act as a deterrent to anybody thinking about causing havoc in the future.

Although severe reprimanding may be a preventative measure for future rioting, it will not cure the "sickness" our Prime Minister describes. Ed Miliband believes the causes for the riots are "complicated" and he's right. Yes, these rioters are thugs, but understanding why they are thugs is imperative. Deprivation, government cuts and police brutality may play a small part in it all, but really, it has everything to do with the voracious and egotistical messages espoused to us by various media outlets causing us to behave in such dysfunctional modes.

There has been palpable tension between the police and the youth in many areas in London for years -- especially Tottenham. The chronology dates back to the mid 80s when race riots ensued; the police were accused of institutional racism and, eventually, a policeman was hacked to death by a group of men armed with machetes.

Sherish Aftab, 22, is a London based youth mentor and Secondary School teacher, she said: "First, it [the Tottenham riots] was understandable; then it became ridiculous, and now it's out of control and grim. I say it was understandable at first because I still agree with the initial motive behind the riots. That is, the first protests that took place in Tottenham in retaliation of the police officer shooting Mark Duggan. A lot of young people have always had a vendetta with the police, particularly from areas such as Tottenham, Hackney and Peckham. Incidentally, these are the areas where the riots have taken place. It worries me, as a secondary school teacher, who works with young people from 11-18."

David Cameron put the riots down to a "complete lack of responsibility". Responsibility is one factor yes, but a word more befitting is the ubiquitous and old-fashioned term "respect" - or the lack of it for that matter. The riots have done nothing but confirm the profound egoism and immorality prevalent in many of the youth today.

Indeed, the police do abuse their powers on certain occasions and that needs to be redressed, but the underlying issue why the youth see the police as an anathema is because they don't respect authority. This view is echoed by England footballer Rio Ferdinand who said this week: "It seems these kids/people have no fear or respect for the police."

Miliband described the unruliness as "complicated" and the Prime Minister said "there are things badly wrong in our society." Well, obviously. Disgracefully, three young Asian men were run over and killed in Birmingham amidst the riots. And Mohd Rosli, a Malaysian student studying in London, was another victim of harassment -- after suffering a broken jaw he was robbed by those pretending to help him causing nationwide disquietude.

If anything, the riots will serve to better relations between the various ethnic communities in the country. Take, for example, the group of Sikhs who stood outside Southall Mosque to allow Muslims to pray during the riots. And those who stood up against the riots and decided to clean up the mess on the streets the following mornings. Indeed, we have seen the worst of Britain, but also the best.

Omar Shahid is a freelance journalist currently reading journalism at City University

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I can’t follow Marie Kondo's advice – even an empty Wotsits packet “sparks joy” in me

I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

I have been brooding lately on the Japanese tidying freak Marie Kondo. (I forgot her name so I typed “Japanese tidying freak” into Google, and it was a great help.) The “Japanese” bit is excusable in this context, and explains a bit, as I gather Japan is more on the case with the whole “being tidy” thing than Britain, but still.

Apart from telling us that we need to take an enormous amount of care, to the point where we perform origami when we fold our underpants, which is pretty much where she lost me, she advises us to throw away anything that does not, when you hold it, “spark joy”. Perhaps I have too much joy in my life. I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

After a while I gave up on this because I was getting a bit too happy with all the memories, so then I thought to myself, about her: “This is someone who isn’t getting laid enough,” and then I decided that was a crude and ungallant thought, and besides, who am I to wag the finger? At least if she invites someone to her bedroom no one is going to run screaming from it, as they would if I invited anyone to my boudoir. (Etym: from the French “bouder”, to sulk. How very apt in my case.) Marie Kondo – should bizarre circumstance ever conspire to bring her to the threshold – would run screaming from the Hovel before she’d even alighted the stairs from the front door.

I contemplate my bedroom. As I write, the cleaning lady is in it. To say that I have to spend half an hour cleaning out empty Wotsits packets, and indeed wotnot, before I let her in there should give you some idea of how shameful it has got. And even then I have to pay her to do so.

A girlfriend who used to be referred to often in these pages, though I think the term should be a rather less flippant one than “girlfriend”, managed to get round my natural messiness problem by inventing a game called “keep or chuck”.

She even made up a theme song for it, to the tune from the old Spiderman TV show. She would show me some object, which was not really rubbish, but usually a book (it may not surprise you to learn that it is the piles of books that cause most of the clutter here), and say, “Keep or chuck?” in the manner of a high-speed game show host. At one point I vacillated and so she then pointed at herself and said, “Keep or chuck?” I got the message.

These days the chances of a woman getting into the bedroom are remote. For one thing, you can’t just walk down the street and whistle for one much as one would hail a cab, although my daughter is often baffled by my ability to attract females, and suspects I have some kind of “mind ray”. Well, if I ever did it’s on the blink now, and not only that – right now, I’m not even particularly bothered that it’s on the blink. Because, for another thing, I would frankly not care to inflict myself upon anyone else at the moment.

It was all a bit of a giggle eight years ago, when I was wheeled out of the family home and left to my own devices. Of course, when I say “a bit of a giggle”, I mean “terrifying and miserable”, but I had rather fewer miles on the clock than I do now, and a man can, I think, get away with a little bit more scampish behaviour, and entertain a few more illusions about the future and his own plausibility as a character, when he is squarely in his mid-forties than when he is approaching, at speed, his middle fifties.

Death has rather a lot to do with it, I suppose. I had not actually seen, or touched, a dead body until I saw, and touched, my own father’s a few weeks ago. That’s what turns an abstract into a concrete reality. You finally put that to one side and gird up your loins – and then bloody David Bowie snuffs it, and you find yourself watching the videos for “Blackstar” and “Lazarus” over and over again, and reach the inescapable conclusion that death is not only incredibly unpleasant, it is also remorseless and very much nearer than you think.

And would you, dear reader, want to be involved with anyone who kept thinking along those lines? I mean, even if he learned how to fold his undercrackers into an upright cylinder, like a napkin at a fancy restaurant, before putting them in his drawer? When he doesn’t even have a drawer?

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war