A reporter with The Guardian has some words with some of the rioters in France. Take it for what it’s worth. Someone in the blogosphere I read has pointed out that, among the overlooked elements in this whole affair is the fact that a lot of teen-age boys everywhere just like to blow shit up.
“It’s so easy,” said Ali, 16. “You need a beer bottle, a bit of petrol or white spirit, a strip of rag and a lighter. Cars are better, though, when the tank goes. One of you smashes a window, the other lobs the bottle.”
Of course, that only turns into property crimes in lawless, hate-ruled places. There’s plenty of hate on parade here.
“We hate France and France hates us. I don’t know what I am. Here’s not home; my gran’s in Algeria. But in any case France is just fucking with us. We’re like mad dogs, you know? We bite everything we see.”
“We burn because it’s the only way to make ourselves heard, because it’s solidarity with the rest of the non-citizens in this country, with this whole underclass. Because it feels good to do something with your rage.”
“The guys whose cars get torched, they understand. OK, sometimes they do. We have to do this. Our parents, they should understand. They did nothing, they suffered in silence. We don’t have a choice. We’re sinking in shit, and France is standing on our heads. One way or another we’re heading for prison. It might as well be for actually doing something.”