Two cases of culpable homicide (1)
Kenneth Roy
Two cases of culpable homicide (2)
Bob Cant
The first time occurred on a very cold morning when I saw a young man sitting on the pavement in a side street near Central Station in Glasgow. It was not a good pitch as at that time of day (around 10am) there were few passing pedestrians. There was nothing in his box so I gave him some change. He said ‘thank you’ in a polite voice. His clothes looked clean but unsuitable for the weather. I would have been interested to hear his story but was conscious that any questions might be resented or misinterpreted. Feeling inadequate, I walked on.
The second time the beggar fitted a more conventional image. He looked in his 60s, though he may have been younger. His complexion suggested a life of hard drinking. He was wearing layers of tattered clothes and supporting himself with crutches, at the same time managing to hold open the door to a city car park. The car park used to have open access but now customers have to swipe their tickets in order to gain entry. It can be a bit of a nuisance if they are carrying shopping and the beggar’s gesture was an attempt to make life slightly easier for them. This time my modest contribution received the response ‘thank you, sir. God bless you’. Far from experiencing a small glow of satisfaction, I felt awkward and rather ashamed.
The situation of Aberdeen University in a way symbolises the problem. King’s College in Old Aberdeen, which dates back to the 15th century, occupies a beautiful setting on the cobbled High Street. A short distance away, St Machar’s Cathedral on the Chanonry and quaint old houses on Don Street provide further historic and architectural interest. Students and staff are fortunate to live and work in such a place. But another world exists less than a mile away. The university is surrounded by three rather grim areas (Powis, Seaton and Tillydrone) which present a very different side to Aberdeen.
I occupied an office on the sixth floor of a well-equipped university building which, on a good day, enabled me to observe shipping movements out at sea. On a bad day, when the north-east ‘haar’ was limiting visibility, I occasionally had an alternative sight – drug deals on King Street at the edge of Seaton.
We know that the divide between rich and poor in Scotland is considerable and shows no signs of diminishing. During my time in Aberdeen I came to regard the professional and business classes of that city as being hugely complacent about the social cohesion of their community. Every time I walked down Union Street I contrasted the disapproval of the ‘respectable’ classes, when they encountered a beggar, with the anger and resentment in the eyes of those who suffered the humiliation of asking for change from passers-by.
It is fitting that we should be made uncomfortable by the presence of the poor and dispossessed on our streets. It should remind us that, for some of our fellow citizens, the values that our society is supposed to stand for are empty and meaningless. And if we manage to retain that thought as we return to our own comfortable lives, we may even be prompted to try to do something about it. The good people of Aberdeen (I am sure there are many) could make a start by opposing their council’s plan to conceal the poverty in their midst.
Walter Humes held professorships at the universities of Aberdeen, Strathclyde and West of Scotland and is now a visiting professor of education at the University of Stirling
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