Ett klipp från dagens the Guardian. Inte så mycket att kommentera: snacket står Ali och hans kompis för.
”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.”
Ali’s friend was an Arsenal fan: ”Thierry Henry, man! But he never scores for France.” Does he feel French? ”We hate France and France hates us,” he spat, refusing to give even his first name. ”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. Go back to Paris, man.”
Sylla summed it up. ”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,” he said.
”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.”