Ah, France. Land of baguettes, berets, and now a fresh new obsession with stabbing teenagers. The nation is convulsed by the murder of young Lyhanna, a case so grim it has sent shockwaves across the Channel, where our own experts have popped up like demented daffodils to warn of a “rising youth crime contagion.” Contagion, they say, as if violence is a common cold you can catch from reading the wrong newspaper.
Let us, for a moment, marvel at the sheer audacity of the British pundit class. A girl is knifed in France, and within hours, some chin-stroking sociologist in a tweed jacket is on the telly, warning that the same thing could happen here if we don’t clutch our pearls harder. Oh, the horror. The absolute horror. Never mind that youth crime has been a perennial panic since the days when “youth” meant “children who smoke pipes.” The script writes itself: “Something terrible happened abroad. It might happen here. I am very serious. Please give me a column.”
France, for its part, is doing what France does best: holding vigils, arguing about the death penalty, and pretending that the answer is more gendarmes on scooters. President Macron has called it “an insupportable tragedy,” which is French for “this will not help my approval ratings.” The far right, sensing blood, is already demanding the guillotine be dusted off and polished. Le Pen is probably practising her stern face in the mirror as we speak.
But let us not be too hard on the French. They are, after all, dealing with the same epidemic of teenage testosterone that plagues the United Kingdom. The difference is that our version comes with a side of ASBOs and a soundtrack of drill music. Here, the experts warn of “county lines” and “knife crime epidemics,” while politicians hold summits where they say things like “we must tackle the root causes” before cutting youth services to the bone. It is all so very performative, like a dance between a pantomime villain and a soggy biscuit.
Lyhanna’s murder is a grim reminder that violence transcends borders, nations, and languages. It is the universal language of pain, spoken with a blade. And yet, the response is always the same: outrage, demands for action, then a slow shuffle back to the status quo. The media will milk this for a week, then move on to the next tragedy, leaving the families to mourn in the silent, hollow space where the headlines used to be.
So here is a modest proposal. Instead of warning of a “contagion,” perhaps we could acknowledge that youth violence is a symptom of a deeper rot: inequality, neglect, and a society that would rather lock up teenagers than love them. But that would require introspection, which is a lot harder than writing a column about the end of civilisation.
I need a drink. Preferably a large gin with a splash of cynicism. France, you have my sympathy. Britain, you have my derision. And Lyhanna, you have my anger which, inadequate as it is, is all I have to offer.
