A few months ago I had my phone snatched out of my hand in the street. “So what,” you say. “Big deal. So has basically everyone in London by now.” And yeah, that’s true.
But I snatched it back. The boy (and he was a boy, not a man) on the pedal bike didn’t get a good enough grip as he whooshed past me and I had two thumbs firmly connected to the screen. I was ready for him, so when he grabbed, I clamped down. After successfully snatching the phone back I misguidedly told him to f**k off (fellow women in London: maybe don’t do this when being subject to a mugging) and he pedalled away.
The reason I was so prepared is that, before this, I had two phones stolen within six months in London. Once in Shoreditch, once in Finsbury Park (under the tunnel, you know the one), both times from within my coat pocket. The final attempted snatch and grab was on the road where I live. Literally too close to home.
I am as vigilant as they come when it comes to phone snatching now. And can you blame me? It’s not like the issue was sorted out. Everyone knows you report it to the police to get a crime report for insurance, and then you never hear from them again. Same as when you get burgled. Same as when you get mugged. Same as when a weird dude harrasses you on the street.
Despite this common knowledge, the Metropolitan Police was lifted out of special measures yesterday thanks to the “progress” it has made since entering increased supervision in June 2022. Maybe it has made progress, but while doing so it took its eye so wholly off the ball that London accidentally became Gotham in its absence.
While the Met has been “progressing” I have become a twitchy, paranoid freak, never getting my phone out, facing away from the open street when I do, memorising Google Maps directions before closing the app and only checking a handful of times while waiting for an Uber — things that only further compound the feeling of being unsafe in the city. I can’t even use this glowing brick that’s meant to protect me because if I get it out it might get nicked, and then I have nothing.
Many crimes in London right now feel like they are essentially decriminalised
But this is life in London now. I wasn’t bothered by much of it to begin with — the shoplifting, the minor theft — because, without trying to sound like The Most Altruistic Person Ever, I thought people were just trying to survive. To make it through a difficult period. And I kept putting my phone in my outer coat pockets, not inner, which is basically like asking to be pickpocketed. So, I thought: all in all, fair dos.
Then it levelled up. Gangs started selling stolen supermarket produce to make a profit, teenagers are stabbing each other in near-weekly headlines, women have been shot when they open their front door, a young girl was shot in the accidental crossfire of a drive-by shooting. And that’s not me casting a wide net over the whole of London, either. I live in Hackney. Nearly all of these were within a two mile radius.
Unfortunately, many crimes in London right now feel like they are essentially decriminalised. For a while that was fine. Cost of living crisis, protect yourself etc. But the criminals are getting bold these days. Bold and young. And it’s only a matter of time until the confidence that spurs on petty criminals infiltrates the minds of criminals who are capable of worse things. If you’re a truly nasty person constantly hearing about people getting away with small crimes in London, what motivation could that instill in you? What could it allow you to do?
Most of the time we make light of the smaller crimes or brush off the major ones to help us keep going. But that isn’t normal. Both for the victims of crime and the perpetrators. Young people need to know there are consequences to their actions, it stops them going down dangerous paths. As much as I doubt them, we need the police to crack down on crime, stat. Is it so much to ask for a police force that isn’t institutionally racist and sexist and corrupt, and also protects the people it sets out to protect? Seems like two pretty basic requests to me.
I have become the shaky woman walking down the alley, looking over my shoulder over and over again because I don’t feel like anyone would come to protect me if I called. Where are the police? Will they come if I call 999? Oh, that’s right. They’re busy making “progress”. I’ll believe it when I see it.
Maddy Mussen is a London Standard writer