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Joan Bakewell: Why the young treat Asbos as glamorous

Such bravado before your peers is how you win your place in the pecking order

Are Asbos glamorous? It seems from a recent report that young people see an Anti-Social Behaviour Order as a badge of honour. Some of them even feel left out because they haven't got one. How shocking is that? Well, not as shocking as you might suppose. There are plenty of reasons why young people defy and challenge their elders, and in a society as confused about its values as ours, teenagers look to each other for their codes of behaviour

They always have done, to some extent. If you want to run with the crowd, there are certain initiation rituals to undergo that make you acceptable to others. Showing daring in the face of adult disapproval is one. And two or three together will boost each other's sense of bravado. I remember steeling myself to trespass into the impeccable gardens of some grand neighbours and snatch a swath of their garden flowers. We egged each other on, getting nearer and nearer to the house. Only the barking of a dog sent us fleeing for the safety of the country hedges beyond their land. Had we been caught, we'd have had a sound talking to, and loud threats to tell our parents would have been enough.

Now the world has turned legalistic. Problems are referred to professionals to deal with. Police and social workers are called in. Our modest theft - especially as it wasn't the only one - would have merited an Asbo and got us tangled up in the messy world of formal cautions, child care officers and such.

Petty crime often makes heroes of its perpetrators. If they have a cheeky style and a good punchline we can forgive a good deal. Michael Caine and Bob Hoskins have built careers as easy-going villains who defy convention, play a nice line in comic timing and get away with more than they should. From Olivier's Richard III to Alfie, our entertainments have indulged the sly villain who beguiles even as he offends.

Today the ready dispensing of Asbos makes petty heroes of young lads who gather noisily at street corners, shout insults at old ladies and generally make a damned nuisance of themselves. Some 7,300 Asbos have been issued since the idea was introduced in 1999. Many have certainly improved the locations where youngsters were making life hell. What's more, as many as 51 per cent did not breach their Asbo and have not returned to court. What is worrying is the other 49 per cent who flouted their orders and flaunted their defiance.

Today, such bravado before your peers is how you win your place in the pecking order. There's nothing exclusive to teenagers about that. And in a world so conspicuously unfair as ours, its not surprising that those with little band together to defend what little they have. Consider the world they see around them: rich celebs getting off speeding charges, top models apparently exempt from drug laws, politicians grabbing freebie holidays. No wonder their defiance feels so good among their peers.

That said, it is alarming that an IPPR study of British 15-year-olds, conducted over several years, finds them among the worst behaved in Europe. They are drunk more often, turn more quickly to fighting and brawling, and try drugs and sex far more than comparative groups in Germany, France and Italy.

We have only ourselves to blame. Compared with other countries, British cities are swamped by hedonistic behaviour. Paris, by comparison, is asleep by 10 o'clock. But in Britain bars are open into the early hours, clubs keep going all night, restaurants and cafés proliferate, replacing the culture of family and home life. We have already added extended licensing laws to the mix. Soon there will be gambling, too. In this society, not to be having a conspicuously good time is to rank as a social failure.

We have forgotten how sound and responsible good families can be. Many young people grow up spoilt and over-indulged, their demand for iPods, mobile phones and label clothes met by hard-working parents fearful that not having such things will make their children feel left out and despised. No wonder they grow up deprived of their real needs, for an affectionate and sustaining home with regular patterns of behaviour and shared daily life.

The IPPR report tells about this to. In Italy 93 per cent of young people eat regularly with their parents. In Britain the number is 64 per cent. I have long believed that sitting round a table sharing a meal is one of the most civilising activities. Different generations coming together to share their stories and ideas reinforces the bonds between them, incidentally teaching children everything from table manners to not all speaking at once, keeping adults abreast of the latest music and styles.

It's not by accident that a shared meal is at the heart of many religious rituals: consider Christianity's Last Supper, the Eid festival that ends Ramadan, or the shared Jewish meal on the eve of the Sabbath. There is something intimate about breaking bread with strangers, and something comforting about the mealtimes of regular family life. Food sustains us, and sharing it speaks to our humanity. The young troublemakers on the streets seem to live unstructured lives focusing on the wrong values, indulged with goods, when what they need is care. Is it altogether surprising that they boost each other's egos with the casual disregard and rudeness that so offends the rest of us?

joan.bakewell@virgin.net

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