The failure to prosecute criminals dumping rubbish in hedges and ditches is frustratingly high, writes SARAH CAREY
LAST WEEK I implied that a surfeit, rather than a lack of democracy was the problem. This week, let me clearer – we’d be much better off under a benign dictatorship – preferably mine. A Mammy State, if you will, in which all noses would be wiped, all backyards are clean, there’s no whingeing, and if everyone does their jobs we can go to the sweet shop on Saturday.
The demand for a no-nonsense approach to administration is demonstrated in the many letters about litter appearing in this paper.
I too have observed the astonishing amount of litter in our ditches and hedges. I suppose it was always there, but the severe frosts have killed so much vegetation we can see it more clearly than usual. The problem is exacerbated by the plentiful supply of ring roads and roundabouts that constitute the legacy of the boom. In a variant of Parkinson’s Law, it appears that litter expands to fill the space available to throw it. Since my native county of Meath is traversed by Ms 1, 2, 3 and 4, we are drowning in link roads and ramps which appear to have a gravitational pull on garbage.
Like Andy Jones, who revealed in his letter on Monday that he counted 1,500 bottles near Clonee, Co Meath, my walks around Enfield’s bypass are ruined by counting bottles, cans (I note a high frequency of Red Bull), cigarette packets (John Player are the worst offenders) and take-away cups from McDonald’s and franchised coffee chains. Capri-sun sachets are particularly noxious as are plastic sandwich wrappers. A lot of people eat and throw on the move. Apart from the dirt, it can’t be healthy.
During last week’s constitutional on the circuit, christened Fat Arse Boulevard in homage to its popularity with us ladywalkers, my skinny rear end and I came across a notice. It was posted by the local Tidy Towns Committee who, rather than vent their outrage on paper, had decided to take matters into their own hands. As part of An Taisce’s Spring Clean week, they were mobilising the bypass’s exercisers to help clean it up. In response, someone had dumped a full refuse bag beside the sign. Sigh.
We were asked to meet at 7pm last Tuesday, and we convened just as the heavens opened. Undeterred by a simple thing like rain, for you can’t let rain stop you doing anything in this country, we pressed on. The leaders distributed latex gloves, refuse bags and even plastic vests branded with the Tidy Towns logo and off we went.
This was before the nice weather came along and I confess I was still carrying the gloom that weighs me down during the six months in which Earth’s tilt plunges the northern hemisphere into semi-darkness. I never expected that picking up litter in the rain would put me into such good form.
Apart from the beneficial effects of the exercise, my fellow litter-pickers and I marvelled at the mentality of someone flinging a can out of their car window. What thought process, if any, takes place during that wanton display of ignorance?
Is it a conscious act of vengeance by a citizen who feels excluded and betrayed by general society? Is it an egotistical gesture by someone who genuinely believes that their person or property should not be sullied by the presence of refuse, and that such detritus is for other, lesser, anonymous mortals? Is that the result of a child who was never instructed by their parents that other people’s entitlements are equal to, or indeed, superior to their own? You see, all mammies are not equal, which is why the post of Mammy-in-Chief needs to be me.
Anyway, we got high on indignation, which peaked when we discovered evidence that someone had pulled over their vehicle and cleaned it out, or, most dramatically, heard that one of the volunteers had discovered a bag of syringes. We resigned ourselves to the inevitability that new litter would replace the old and that this was an ongoing project. A newbie like me was invigorated by the challenge, but I really wondered how stalwarts from our local environment group have maintained motivation over the years.
Enforcement is the issue, but inquiries revealed that litter wardens are a depressed breed. One story reached me of a warden whose every effort to prosecute is undermined by pleading from a public representative that so-and-so is a grand fellow and sure would he not give him a break? I told you democracy is far too easily perverted to thwart the greater good. The failure to prosecute litter bugs is frustrating and the prevalence of these criminals depressingly high. But I still found the exercise uplifting.
Every village and town in Ireland has a core group willing to stop complaining that the Government should do something and get on with fixing the problem themselves. The volunteer spirit of the Tidy Towns and other organisations displays just the sort of can-do attitude that is absent from general discourse because the participants are too busy getting on with the job. Joining in turns us from passive observers into active citizens and turns dormitory towns into vibrant communities.
All you need is a bag and the will and then step outside your own door. And don’t forget to wash your hands before dinner.