3 minute read
PETER McVERRY SJ
REALITY CHECK
PETER McVERRY SJ
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In many parts of our cities, you can order any illegal drug of choice, and it will be delivered to your door quicker than a pizza. And it may be delivered by a 13-year-old boy on a bicycle. In a few years, this boy will be a major drug dealer, involved in violent crime if he is not already dead or in prison.
What makes a 13-year-old football-mad boy become a major drug dealer? He is almost certainly living in a deprived area of the city, characterised by high unemployment. His parent(s), in all likelihood, are surviving on social welfare. He does not expect much from life and sees little point in going to school. The people he looks up to are older drug dealers, who have lots of money, nice cars and frequently go on foreign holidays. Like most people in our consumer-addicted society, he wants money and what money can buy. But what makes his want different from everyone else's is the context. He wants it now because he doesn't expect to get it later in life. And he knows how to get it now. He doesn't need career guidance counsellors!
Most of us have a 'social contract' with society – we believe that it is ultimately in our interest to have a supportive relationship with society. There is a reasonable expectation that if we do what society asks of us, namely go to school, study hard, and go on to further education, we will be rewarded with a job, a reasonable income and a place in society.
But this 13-year-old boy has no 'social contract' with society, no expectations for his future. He has the same needs, dreams, and desires as the rest of us, but, for him, the path to achieving them appears blocked. Society may want to 'rehabilitate' him, which means to control him, to reduce the likelihood that he will continue to cause problems for society. But that is, in itself, a problem. It reinforces his belief that society cares, not about him, but only about protecting itself from him. He doesn't need rehabilitation; it is the relationship between him and society that needs rehabilitation. As a young teenager, he is at an age when both the need to belong and peer group pressure is particularly strong. The peer group to which he belongs defines the boundaries of his behaviour. To retain the approval of this group, he may engage in activities that are not of his choosing (such as using drugs or robbing) or fail to engage in activities he might have chosen (such as staying in school). His 'social contract' is not with the broader society but with the peer group to which he belongs.
This peer group defines the limits of his behaviour and the limits of his thinking. To be a 'rat', or express any appreciation of the role of the Gardaí, will draw down instant condemnation and ridicule. I used to find it utterly inexplicable that someone who had been shot and seriously injured would refuse to cooperate with the Gardaí and identify the would-be killer. But the need to belong to a peer group that requires such behaviour is just as strong as the desire to live.
Most young offenders eventually grow out of crime. They fall in love, or they have a child. Now, for the first time, they realise that there is something they want and can realistically achieve. To avoid putting that relationship in jeopardy by going in and out of jail, they make the social contract with society.
But if you are embedded in a drug gang, your only social contract is with the gang; your loyalty in return for lots of money. Any indication that your loyalty is suspect is to sign your death warrant. You cannot get out. You know too much about the workings of the gang.
Our society, then, has to make a 'social contract' with every child. Ensuring that every child feels valued and has equal opportunity to succeed in life is necessary for reducing drug violence. Is that too much to ask?
