You can’t make big deal of Labour camp misconduct
Have we calmed down after the unfortunate event at the Young Labour youth camp, or are we still trembling at its implications?
I have woken to a world in which nobody commenting on the unfortunate event was ever young and stupid, or had ever been drunk, least of all been drunk and made an ass of themselves. No, this has been something new and terrifying, as opposed to predictable.
This was sex, is the news here, or an intimation of. Among young people who’d been tenderly sheltered since birth from its undignified reality. From a frank look at an orchid. From the infuriating small flies of summer blatantly having it off on a kitchen bench. From life without fly spray if you will.
They have been warned of much peril by theoretical sex education from a young age, and free contraception should they wish to do the practical – but why would they bother?
They have lived in a world free of pornography of the most graphic kind, and curiosity has not led one of them into Internet sites with strange names. Though brothels may be in the centre of town, they have been told they are boarding schools for older girls with caring uncles.
Not one movie they have seen has included a hint of people getting their clothes off, or into bed other than to sleep. Their hormones have been squashed flat by vegan diets. Hip hop lyrics are incomprehensible to them. They are as pure as tap water.
And along came a boy from God knows where, a few years older than four young people, who, after too many drinks, or so we gather, shoved his hand down some of their pants. Nobody filmed the series of events on their mobile phone and downloaded it on to the Internet, which would be a first in one reality I’m aware of.
It would have been annoying and a shock to be so pawed by a youth. It would have been equally infuriating to be pawed with finesse. But what seems evident is that the young male was as gauche and foolish as any anxious mother could wish. The series of unfortunate events were unlikely to lead to further, voluntary intimacy, because they were laughable. They were a child’s idea of sexual activity. He should be deeply embarrassed. He may cringe at the memory for the rest of his life.
Should police have been involved? Do they have nothing more urgent to do than monitor the inept exploratory behaviour of the young while hapless dairy owners are harassed and beaten by louts looking to steal fags? Or should the series of events have been dealt with quietly, so as not to inflate their seriousness and magnify any possible harm?
I’m with Crusher Collins on this. She has criticised Labour for not advising the parents of all the young people involved. That would have led to a curtailing of freedom for all of them, probably, a wise move since they should be protected from groping, which, remember, was never known to happen among young people until that youth camp.
Not even at the Bible Class Camps that Christian girls I was at school with whispered about in hushed tones and with much giggling. No, there was an absence of that among these young people’s parents, Crusher’s friends, and mine. In our youth we were far too busy china painting.
The young male should be pilloried, charged with criminal offences, targeted by every interfering agency we can throw at him. He should be publicly named and shamed. Jail wouldn’t be out of the question. Meanwhile, the young women should be counselled for trauma, which they may have come to believe they have experienced. You can’t make too big a thing of this.
The camp could have been better run. Eagle-eyed adults could have watched the young people in shifts, 24 hours a day. There could (should) have been no alcohol at all. Males and females could have been kept apart at all times, for decorum’s sake, other than to play healthy, supervised games of noughts and crosses.
Nobody would have been groped, stupid, drunk, or annoyed. And nobody would have attended in the first place. In our more usual reality, what would we make of that?
It would have been annoying and a shock to be so pawed by a youth.