A Necessary Evil
By an Anonymous Officer of the Devon District Commission for Chav Affairs
Taken From: Documents in Modern British Studies Vol. 2: Genocide
Edited by Dr. Jonathan P. Richards
Professor of Modern British Studies,
University of East Anglia
I don't know why I am writing this. I know that if it is found whilst I am alive and the current regime in power it will be my death warrant(1) . I also know that if it is found after I die; it will make no difference to the... current of the time. I hope that future generations, if somehow they come to read this, will think well of us, and understand that we did what we had to do. We did not enjoy doing it. We struggled long and hard, and some of us were not equal to the task. But in the end, I am proud of what I did, that I did my duty to every decent person in this country and did not flinch when asked to play a role in the Great Task that was set to us in the third decade of the 21st century. Perhaps even these future generations will not know what had been done by their forefathers to make the world a better place for them to live. If that is the case, then I hope what I write will be a window into the truth, the truth of our suffering(2) .
I joined my own local District Commission a few years after the laws came in to force, so by the time I was involved in the Devon Commission the Special Areas had already been established. At that time it was being run by someone who has gone on to greater things (3) and had been in existence for five years. Devon was a well-run ship then, with the lowest crime, suicide, pregnancy and riot rates of any Special Area, as well as having one of the highest rates of First-Degree identification of them all (4) .
I worked in the five-storey Devon District Commission building, built alongside the containing fence of the St Thomas Special Area in Exeter, near to the central Devon Chav Hospital (5) , which sat squat and white behind a line of trees. Outside the office was a sweep of green running down to the road; a playing field for the Commission's sports teams. Behind the building, if you approached from the road, was a stretch of open ground for about fifty metres, whereupon you reached the high, barbed wire topped, chain link fence. At intervals of fifty metres were concrete towers with searchlights on the roofs and guards armed with tear-gas grenade launchers and rubber bullet guns. The Commissioner was proud to say they had never been used in action; indeed our Chavs were normally as docile as cows. To be posted to a tower was to ensure yourself a mind-numbing working life- we all avoided it like the plague if we could. Beyond the fence lay the buildings of the Special Area; largely those of the 1960s housing estate that had been fenced off and partially demolished (with some newer modifications)(6).
If you followed the road outside the Commission to the north, it swung round to one of four gates into the Special Area. Drugs and alcohol were supposedly illegal but in truth were used as a means of social control- a young Second Degree could hardly think of resistance when he was in an alcoholic stupor or marijuana haze, and the "dealers" we planted inside (for a time it was my duty to oversee them) were a good way of identifying subversive elements.
Before I joined the Commission I had, like most people, wondered about what it was like for those inside the SAs.