What I Do with my Alloted Exercise Time (1)

           This week, I watched a couple of films with plot twists so lacking in credibility that, if I had been on Gogglebox, my reactions would have been hilarious to behold. Surely the character(s) drawn would not act that way? In A White, White Day the rogue policeman’s brazen transgressions go utterly unchallenged; in Amores Perros the beloved pet dog, having become accidentally trapped under the floorboards of their flat, is abandoned by its previously adoring owners; and in Midsommer, the protagonists are unbelievably gullible (though, in the end it becomes apparent that the whole artifice is just a crappy horror movie, not the psychological thriller promised in the trailer.)

          Perhaps I should curtail my critical faculty and take a lesson from real life, where, by popular consent, the saying “there’s nowt so queer as folk” explains the seemingly inexplicable. Other people do act in ways which seem incomprehensible, but the context of one’s own terms of reference should be factored into any judgement. That way lies peace of mind and lowered blood pressure.

          Coincidentally, I have discovered an unlikely route to this discipline: litter- picking. Litter-picking not only lends extra purpose to one’s daily exercise walk, but it also arouses emotion and, better, stimulates contemplation. Although the practical aspect of tidying as you walk is satisfying in itself, it is all too easy to become outraged and judgemental about the “litter-louts”, so I have learned to rein in those negative feelings by taking a more empathetic view of the perpetrators. Which leads me into the realm of behavioural psychology – recently brought into the limelight by pundits speculating on the reasons why some people will not accept the science behind mask-wearing, social-distancing, vaccination etc.  I am learning to think of litter-picking as an evidence-gathering exercise in the interests of research that combines elements of anthropological, social and sociological analysis. And, although I am far from a comprehensive paradigm of the subject, the evidence thus far suggests some categorisation.

          First, there is the seemingly innocent kiddie stuff – sweet wrappers and soft-drinks containers. In the light of childish enthusiasm to consume the contents, it is not hard to understand their neglecting to dispose responsibly of the packaging. (Though I had been under the impression that modern schooling included an element of environmental awareness.) Then there is the poverty-related stuff, such as fast-food packaging and cheap drinks containers. The lives of poor, socially deprived people can be extremely precarious and the habits and values adopted by better-off sections of society are not necessarily their priority, which may explain both the consumption of these goods and the relative disregard for a tidy environment. Then there is the desperate stuff. At the top end of a particular park, in amongst the bushes, lies the detritus of addiction – empty cans and bottles of (cheap) alcoholic drinks, syringe packaging and Naloxone containers – spent and discarded. Policy makers could learn a thing or two from us litter-pickers. We are close to the ground, literally, gathering, observing and classifying information that could be influential in tweaking policies. For instance, in the case of the addicts, there are no bins for them at the top of the park; they are far away, near the road, for the convenience of the bin-men. However, larger-scale social problems, such as the consumption of junk food, social inequality, poor housing, inadequate education and unemployment lie behind the apparent environmental disregard of those who litter. The litter-picker soon learns not to harrumph at the “louts” but to question the social system that sows the seeds of its own problems.

          Which is not to say that all forms of behaviour may be excused. I find it difficult, for example, to empathise with dog-walkers who, having taken the trouble to bag up their doggy turds, then sling them aside. This is a truly tricky conundrum, even for professional behavioural scientists. It certainly tests the limit of my reasoning and, surely, even a film director couldn’t make it up?