"Feral little sh*ts": How hostile attitudes toward young people undermines violence and harm prevention
A recent video of teenagers shoplifting from Greggs sparked a torrent of hostile online commentary. But what if our collective response to youth behaviour is actually perpetuating the very problems we're trying to solve?
Content warning and disclaimer: This blog contains strong language and offensive content which we have chosen not to sanitise in order to accurately represent the public discourse. All quotes are selected from publicly available social media comments. Individual usernames and identifying information have been anonymised to protect privacy while preserving the authentic language that demonstrates the concerning nature of anti-youth sentiment.
The Chorus of Contempt
The video was brief, just a few seconds of teenagers taking items from a Greggs bakery. But the response was swift and brutal:
These weren't isolated voices of frustration, they represented a familiar chorus that emerges whenever young people, particularly racially minoritised young people, make headlines for the wrong reasons. The comments revealed layers of hostility: ageism, racism, and a deep-seated belief that "things weren't like this in my day”. But as those working in violence prevention know all too well, the way society responds to youth behaviour can be just as consequential as the behaviour itself.
At the Centre for Safer Society, our work across statutory reviews, safeguarding partnerships, and violence prevention has shown us repeatedly that the systems designed to protect young people can sometimes inadvertently harm them. Today, we want to explore a particularly troubling phenomenon: how societal contempt toward youth might actually be manufacturing the very outcomes we desperately want to prevent.
Beyond the headlines: What the evidence tells us
The relationship between societal attitudes and youth outcomes isn't just theoretical, it's documented, measurable, and deeply concerning. Research spanning decades reveals a pattern that challenges our most basic assumptions about youth justice and prevention.
The labelling effect in action
Stanley Cohen's seminal work on moral panics first identified how media hysteria over "bad" youth creates a self-reinforcing cycle¹. Contemporary research has only strengthened these findings. A comprehensive analysis by Sullivan and Miller found that widespread moral panic about violent youth led to "demonisation of all adolescents", and crucially, this demonization "exacerbated the actual problems" rather than solving them².
"Deal with it - we don't discipline these feral little shits so what do we expect"
The mechanism is as clear as it is troubling: when society treats young people as enemies, some young people begin to live up to that expectation. This idea is sometimes described as a deviance amplification spiral: public fear prompts tougher, stigmatizing measures, which in turn alienate youth more deeply, leading some to embrace the very deviant identity society has foisted on them³.
The Justice System's Counterproductive Response
"Put them on national service make men out of em and teach em respect"
"Bring back the leather belt..."
"or chop off their hands and see how easy it is to steal using their toes. Scum of society"
The calls for harsher punishment that followed the Greggs incident reflect a persistent belief that tougher responses will deter youth crime. From calls for National Service to suggestions of physical violence, the comments revealed a deep faith in punishment as prevention. Yet this intuitive response runs counter to decades of evidence about what actually works.
A meta-analysis of juvenile justice interventions revealed that formally processing youth through courts, rather than diverting them, actually increases reoffending rates⁴. The UK Centre for Justice Innovation explains this "backfire" effect through labelling theory: once branded an offender, young people may internalize that identity as their "master status"⁵.
The consequences cascade predictably. Stigma triggers exclusionary reactions from teachers, employers, and community members. Positive opportunities disappear. Young people drift toward peer groups that accept the "bad kid" label, often deviant peer groups that reinforce criminal behaviour⁶.
This is precisely why calls to "lock them up" or impose military-style interventions like National Service are so counterproductive. Rather than building the connections and skills young people need, these approaches further separate them from mainstream society and reinforce their identity as outsiders.
A 2014 study in Crime & Delinquency, following nearly 400 young offenders, found that those who felt stigmatized by the justice system showed significantly higher reoffending rates. This was particularly pronounced among young women, where feeling judged after court hearings became a powerful predictor of future crime⁷.
The intersecting prejudices.
The Greggs incident revealed something particularly troubling about contemporary youth demonization: it rarely occurs in isolation. Many comments betrayed not just ageism but explicit racism, with assumptions about the young people's immigration status and belonging based solely on their appearance. Others revealed deep-seated class prejudices, with immediate assumptions about family circumstances and economic status. Perhaps most tellingly, many responses revealed anxieties about masculinity and gender roles.
"Deport them now wtf scumbags"
"Usual fatherless suspects"
"Put them on national service make men out of em and teach em respect"
"People know Croydon is a third world country, those kids are just tryna earn money however they can, so their mum will stop sleeping with her drug dealer for rent money"
"Excellent example of poor parenting and lack of discipline"
This intersection of prejudices creates a particularly toxic environment for young people who face multiple forms of disadvantage. They experience what researchers call "intersectional stigma", negative stereotyping that compounds based on their age, race, socioeconomic status, and gender⁸.
The masculinity crisis narrative
The gendered dimensions of these responses are particularly revealing. Comments about "fatherless suspects" and the need to "make men out of them" reflect a dominant narrative that links youth misbehaviour to failed masculinity and absent fathers. This framing suggests that young men who transgress social boundaries have somehow failed to achieve "proper" manhood, and that the solution lies in more authoritarian, militaristic interventions.
But this analysis misses crucial complexities. Research shows that rigid masculine expectations, the pressure to be tough, emotionally distant, and dominant, can actually contribute to antisocial behaviour rather than prevent it. When young men feel they cannot meet society's narrow definitions of successful masculinity through legitimate means (education, employment, relationships), some may pursue it through displays of risk-taking, aggression, or defiance.
The call for National Service to "make men" of young people reveals a nostalgic attachment to militaristic models of masculinity that prioritize conformity and hierarchy over emotional intelligence or genuine skill development. Yet evidence from youth development programs consistently shows that the most effective interventions focus on building authentic relationships, emotional regulation, and prosocial connection, not breaking down young people to rebuild them in authoritarian moulds.
Moreover, the "fatherless" narrative, while reflecting real concerns about family stability, often becomes a way of avoiding more complex discussions about economic inequality, mental health support, and community disinvestment. Many young people from single-parent families thrive when they have access to positive role models, community resources, and economic opportunities. The issue isn't the absence of fathers per se, but the absence of supportive relationships and structural opportunities.
The racist undertones were unmistakable. Comments immediately leaped to assumptions about deportation and "third world" associations, drawing on long-standing stereotypes that pathologize entire communities. Meanwhile, the class-based prejudices were equally stark, immediate assumptions about family dysfunction, benefit dependency, and parental moral failure, all extrapolated from seconds of footage.
Sullivan and Miller's research explicitly noted how demonization campaigns often disproportionately target poor youth of color, with portrayals serving as coded language for multiple social anxieties⁹. When comments suggest that young people's misbehaviour represents evidence of national decline ("What in the United Kingdom is happening here"), they're being asked to bear responsibility not just for their individual actions but for entire communities and immigration policies.
This intersectional dimension of youth demonisation has profound implications for trust and engagement. Nacro's research found that 65% of disadvantaged young people, a group disproportionately comprised of young people of color and those from low-income families—reported not trusting police, feeling routinely "stereotyped and judged"¹⁰. When young people perceive that their race, class, and gender compound society's hostility toward their age, the alienation effects become exponentially more pronounced.
The media mirror
Recent research by the charity Nacro reveals the extent of this problem in our public discourse. Over one year, UK media stories about young people were twice as likely to be negative as positive, routinely labelling youth as "lazy, selfish, weak, or dangerous." Perhaps most damaging, young people themselves were rarely given a voice in these stories¹¹.
"This generation is lost"
This constant bombardment doesn't just shape public opinion, it shapes young people's opinions of themselves. As Nacro's research shows, young people are acutely aware of these negative stereotypes and many begin to internalise them¹². If you're told often enough that you're worthless or a "thug," the research suggests, you may start acting that way or simply give up on positive goals.
The trust deficit this creates has dangerous implications. When young people perceive authorities as biased against them, they become less likely to seek help, more likely to carry weapons for self-defense, and quicker to resort to violence¹³.
The amplification effect
One of the most striking aspects of contemporary youth panic is how it treats age-old adolescent behaviours as unprecedented social breakdown. The comments following the Greggs incident were filled with apocalyptic despair: "More reasons to never reproduce," "In 100 years time this will be a totally different country. Time to leave."
"What in the United Kingdom is happening here"
"We took their future, they took our Greggs"
But this collective amnesia ignores historical reality. Shoplifting, boundary-testing, and minor antisocial behaviour have characterised adolescence across generations and cultures. What's changed isn't youth behaviour, it's our ability to capture, share, and amplify individual incidents until they feel like endemic crises.
Social media and smartphone technology have created what we might call "the amplification effect." Where once a teenager's mistake might have remained known only to immediate witnesses, today it can be filmed, shared, and commented upon by thousands within hours. This creates several concerning dynamics:
The gamification of deviance: When antisocial behavior becomes content that gains attention and notoriety, some young people may be incentivised to escalate their actions for greater viral impact. The very mechanism designed to shame can inadvertently reward.
Permanent public shaming: Unlike previous generations, today's young people face the prospect that their adolescent mistakes will follow them indefinitely online, making redemption and moving forward exponentially harder.
The illusion of epidemic: Individual incidents gain such prominence that they create false impressions of widespread breakdown, leading to policy responses based on perception rather than data.
Perhaps most tragically, this amplification occurs precisely when young people have lost many of the protective factors that previous generations took for granted. Youth clubs, community centers, and informal mentoring relationships have declined dramatically due to funding cuts¹⁴. Where once young people might have had multiple adults in their lives to provide guidance and belonging, many now navigate adolescence with fewer positive connections and more online pressures.
The result is a perfect storm: young people face greater stressors and fewer supports than previous generations, while their mistakes receive unprecedented public scrutiny and condemnation. They're asked to display maturity that previous generations developed through community support, while being denied access to those very support systems.
The psychology of alienation
The adolescent brain is particularly vulnerable to social rejection. During this critical period of identity formation, young people are hypersensitive to messages about their worth and belonging. When the dominant messages from adult society are overwhelmingly negative, captured in comments like "Deal with it - we don't discipline these feral little shits so what do we expect", many respond not with compliance but with defiance or despair.
"More reasons to never reproduce"
This dynamic was first documented in Martin Gold's pioneering 1969 study on youth alienation, which argued that juvenile delinquency often represents a symptom of feeling powerless and estranged from adult society¹⁵. When young people lack legitimate influence or respect, some use delinquent acts to assert autonomy and gain self-worth. If society will only recognize them as "troublemakers," they may embrace that role to reclaim some sense of power.
Contemporary youth workers continue to observe this pattern. When teenagers believe "society hates me," it erodes their incentive to follow society's rules. Feeling unheard and unwanted, they may disregard adult moral authority and develop counter-norms that justify aggression or crime¹⁶.
A different path: Learning from what works
The evidence points clearly toward more effective approaches, ones that safeguarding partnerships and commissioners can champion in their own areas.
Child-First Approaches
UK youth justice is gradually shifting toward treating children in conflict with the law as children first, with capacity for positive change, rather than as junior criminals. By avoiding stigmatising language (referring to "young people who offended" rather than "young offenders") and focusing on children's needs, these approaches minimise harmful labelling¹⁷.
Evaluations consistently show that diversion programs reduce reoffending, partly by keeping young people out of the stigmatising court and custody pipeline. Trauma-informed care in schools and services recognises that many concerning behaviours stem from trauma and exclusion, issues that cannot be "scared straight" through punishment but can be healed through support and connection¹⁸.
Youth voice and genuine partnership
Another powerful antidote to negative stereotypes involves actively including young people in designing solutions. When young people are given platforms to be heard, whether in community safety initiatives, policy development, or service design, it challenges the caricature of "irresponsible youth" and demonstrates their pro-social potential.
Research consistently shows that young people who feel respected and valued by at least one adult or community group are far less likely to harm others or themselves¹⁹. Positive role models and mentors can counteract the effects of negative societal influences.
Changing the narrative
Media representation matters profoundly. Campaigns highlighting positive youth stories, innovations, community service, resilience in overcoming adversity, can reduce unwarranted fear while helping young people develop more confident self-identities rather than internalizing shame.
As education expert Elise Temple notes, bridging generational gaps requires active effort: educators, parents, and leaders must combat the "slew of negative stereotypes" and consistently reinforce to young people that they are trusted and believed in, even when they make mistakes²⁰.
Addressing structural inequalities
Finally, it's crucial to recognise that youth demonisation often scapegoats minoritised young people for broader social problems. A fairer society that invests in youth services, education, mental health, and employment opportunities will reduce youth crime far more effectively than punitive rhetoric. This is particularly important when addressing the racialized dimensions of youth stigma, challenging not just ageism but the intersecting prejudices that compound marginalisation.
The prevention imperative
For those of us working in violence prevention, these findings carry profound implications. If we're serious about creating safer communities, we must recognise that how we talk about and treat young people can become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Widespread contempt toward "the youth of today" may temporarily satisfy public outrage, but it ultimately plants seeds of further violence, abuse, and harm. Labels and hatred don't solve youth problems, they worsen them.
What this means for practice
Safeguarding partnerships can lead by example, ensuring their own language and approaches emphasise young people's potential rather than their problems. Children's services can prioritize relationship-based practice over punitive responses. Commissioners can invest in programs that build connection rather than those that increase separation.
Most fundamentally, we can challenge the narrative in our own spheres of influence. Every time we encounter comments like those following the Greggs incident, we have an opportunity to inject evidence-based understanding into emotional reactions.
A Call for Complexity
The teenagers in that Greggs video weren't just "feral kids", they were young people whose behaviour emerged from complex circumstances we didn't see. Behind each action lies a story of relationships, experiences, opportunities, and, in some instances, trauma or marginalisation.
One comment, perhaps inadvertently, captured something profound about this dynamic: "We took their future, they took our Greggs". While likely meant as a flippant observation, this statement reveals an uncomfortable truth about intergenerational responsibility. What futures have we taken? What opportunities have we withdrawn through cuts to youth services, reduced investment in education, and the systematic dismantling of pathways to secure employment and housing?
When young people grow up in a society that offers them limited positive routes to belonging and success, some will create their own. If mainstream society communicates that they are unwanted and without value, they may find value and identity through means that society disapproves of. The Greggs incident becomes less about individual moral failure and more about a predictable response to systemic exclusion.
This doesn't excuse harmful behaviour, but it does suggest that our responses should be guided by what actually works to prevent future harm, not by what feels emotionally satisfying in the moment.
As one young person powerfully expressed: "There's a story behind each person, a person behind each story"²¹. Until we listen to these stories, really listen, and respond with the same empathy and evidence-based practice we'd want for our own children, we'll continue creating the very problems we claim to want to solve.
The path forward requires courage: the courage to resist easy narratives, to invest in understanding rather than condemnation, and to recognise that our treatment of young people today shapes the adults they'll become tomorrow.
For commissioners, safeguarding leads, and policy makers, this means championing approaches that build bridges rather than walls. It means measuring success not just by short-term compliance but by long-term outcomes. And it means having the conviction to explain to communities that effective prevention sometimes looks different from popular punishment.
The young people we demonise today don't disappear, they become the adults of tomorrow. The question isn't whether we'll live with the consequences of our choices, but what those consequences will be. When expertise meets empathy, we can create solutions that don't just manage problems but prevent them. The evidence is clear. The choice is ours.