The government’s new youth strategy is nothing but spin.
It is some testament to the awfulness of Christmas telly this year that I took time out in between the Queen’s message, the Archbishop’s sermon and one of the most mawkishly pointless episodes of Doctor Who ever broadcast to read the blurb behind the government’s new “Positive For Youth” strategy.
After twelve months of devastating cuts to schools, universities and youth services, a million unemployed 18-24 year olds and voiceless, frustrated young people burning and looting in the inner cities, it would be nice to think that someone has finally decided to start taking an interest in the generation currently on the cusp of adulthood.
Unfortunately, there’s nothing new about this strategy but the spin. Precisely no additional funding is being allocated for youth services – the plan is just an involved way of making it look as though there is. Meanwhile, fresh research has revealed that schools across the country are being forced to cut frontline services, from extra-curricular activities to arts, music and careers services. Thousands of careers advisors have been laid off, and presumably some of them had not yet reached the stage of rocking, crying and inviting young jobseekers to pray with them over the latest unemployment forecasts. Local councils are also slashing their provisions for young people, from youth clubs to special needs grants.
At every level of government, youth services are the first to go when cuts are imposed, because they have few measurable outcomes – meaning that by the time the damage done can be properly tallied, the political careers of the current administration will be beyond scrutiny.
Instead, the “Positive for Youth” strategy echoes the Queen, the Archbishop and the rest of the Westminster machine in replacing actual ideas with lots of rhetorical flourishes about duty, family and responsibility. There is much talk of “listening to” young people – which is all to the good, as young people in Britain today have some fairly urgent about education and economic policy, some of which have been written on the Treasury wall in spraypaint for the attention of ministers – but no coherent plans to actually take any of their concerns into account. One young participant told me that teenagers who were consulted in drawing up the document had to fight to get phrases like “young people will learn to respect authority and their elders” removed, but the sentiment is still there in the meat of the text.
As we move into 2012, with all the old certainties disintegrating into the scurf of yesterday’s consensus, the message to young people is simple: please, just don’t kick off anymore. We may not have done anything to deserve your respect, but respect us anyway, or we’ll send in the police. Sit down and shut up. Sois jeune et tais-toi.
There is no strategy here for the future, because there doesn’t need to be. Nobody votes for the future anymore. For at least thirty years, politicians have played to a lexicon of temporary, individual self-interest and short-term profit. Even today, those who talk of decreasing the deficit through austerity measures have quietly ceased to speak the language of long-term growth. Nobody is investing in young people, in the environment, in infrastructure, in education, in any of the things that might make us – in an addictive little phrase I picked up at Occupy Wall Street – “good ancestors”.
Instead, all the current crop of politicians seems to be able to do is beg and bully the young and disenfranchised into giving them respect. The riots were a gift, because they allowed the centre-right to frame social breakdown in terms of delinquency rather than despair. Nonetheless, I can think of few historical moments where respect for our elders has been less appropriate. From government cuts to the Eurozone crisis to the meltdown of the Durban climate talks, the political elite is fairly obviously making a total hash of almost everything they’re in charge of.
Respecting them at this point would not only be unfitting – it would be downright foolish.