Scrote Centre?

           Having completed the Guardian Quick Crossword in the time it took to consume two rounds of toast and a pot of tea – a personal best! – I was feeling quite pleased with myself. The bright weather and my elevated mood tempted me to take a walk with my litter-grabber, not to my favourite park but to a more challenging, slightly edgier one, where beer cans, wine bottles and the occasional needle were sure to be included in the haul.

          People often talk to me when they see what I’m doing. Often a simple “Thank you” or “Never ending job!” is all it amounts to, but when exchanges are prolonged, the impromptu ‘vox pop’ that ensues can be both entertaining and enlightening. Some people claim that they also pick litter (but are not doing it right now); some people shake their heads and wonder why others strew it about (but offer no explanations); some people express illiberal views on how to punish perpetrators (without considering the causes); some simply blame the council for not clearing up (as if it were acceptable to toss litter). So far, my attempts to introduce an element of behavioural psychology have met with blank expressions. Moreover, no one has admitted to being a litter lout, nor have I ever caught anyone in the act (not that I am sure I would confront them if I did). On the morning in question, a man did approach me and offer his explanation of why there was a trail of detritus along the path we were on. “They’ve just opened a new ‘scrote centre’ up the road there and they come down this way to the soup kitchen, chucking everything about when they’re done,” he explained. It seemed plausible enough, but it was his terminology that interested me, as it revealed something of his attitude to the problems of social deprivation, which, in my view, is what lies at the root of litter-unawareness: ‘scrotes’ may get the blame for making a mess, but our social structures are partly responsible for their alienated situation. The real problem we should address is why we need scrote centres in the first place.

          I have just finished reading a history book* in which the author gives an account of the origins and spread of written constitutions. By rigorous analysis of cause and effect, she demonstrates that there is more to the story of, for example, the writing of the American constitution than is popularly supposed: the document was not immaculately conceived but born of a sequence of events and exchanges of ideas over a long period of time and several continents. Such correlation of facts is the cornerstone of any worthwhile historical study. And a knowledge of history (though it may never be completely objective) is a requisite for understanding and assessing our present circumstances, which too often we take for granted or judge on sketchy background information. Would we, the human race, not benefit from understanding how our situation has developed from past events so that we may plan for the long-term future?

          Unfortunately for the mass of the world’s population, its long-term welfare is not what interests those in power. Apart from occasional acts that benefit the majority (e.g., the establishment of the NHS) the acquisition and accumulation of wealth and power by individuals and their chosen few is the norm. And it is to this end that short-termism is employed as a controlling tool, by populist politicians, dictators and tyrants alike, airbrushing history to suit their purpose. Hence, when I pick up litter, what I see is not just an untidy park, but a symptom of societal dysfunction due to failure to address long-term problems – the kind of puzzle that can’t be solved over breakfast.

*The Gun, The Ship and The Pen Linda Colley