STIs and crisp-packet contraception: what I learned from talking about sex in schools

Everyone has a story about crap sex education. My own consisted of a single afternoon in primary school, where a shame-faced stranger haltingly warned us about our impending wet dreams in such abstract terms that she may as well have been explaining quantum chromodynamics. That was all we got. It’s a wonder we are not all dead.

So the news that sex and relationship education will soon be compulsory in British secondary schools, with children from four years old upwards receiving lessons in relationships, should be widely celebrated. I left school two decades ago and, despite spending a solid month on the subject, I am yet to encounter a situation where I have needed to know what an oxbow lake is. Meanwhile, had my school put the same effort into sex and relationships, I guarantee that I would still be using those lessons to this day.

Leaving youngsters to figure out how sex works for themselves is the very definition of madness. For a few years, I was heavily involved with World Contraception Day, and I got to see first-hand what happens when kids have to form their own ideas about sex. The misinformation I encountered was catastrophic. I met kids who did not think you could get pregnant if you did it standing up, and kids who thought the pill protected you against STIs. There were kids who believed that post-coitally rinsing yourself out with Coca-Cola was an effective form of contraception. On one particularly bleak morning in Maidstone, I found myself arguing with a teenager who maintained that, in an emergency, an empty crisp packet would be a fine alternative to a condom.

Sure, you could argue that this ruling has come a little late, since rates of teenage pregnancies in this country have now reached the lowest point since records began. And, yes, in a balanced and sensible world this would not be necessary because parents would have already fully equipped their children to learn the importance of healthy relationships.

But still, it is vitally important. The internet has meant that, without schools stepping in to lead the way, there is a real danger that kids will educate themselves about sex with pornography. After all, no generation has ever had such easy access to porn. When I was a kid, if we wanted to look at porn we had to scour local woodlands for miraculously discarded carrier bags full of year-old Razzles. I shudder to think of the ideas we would have formed if we could have just hopped on the internet. No wonder 75% of British people want to see sex and relationship education address the harmful effects of online porn and sexting.

We have known for years that teens are more responsible in their attitudes towards sex if they are given a proper educational grounding first. And, at last, that is what they are going to get. Even if it dents the sales of fizzy drinks and crisps a little, that has to be a good thing.

STIs and crisp-packet contraception: what I learned from talking about sex in schools

"It could be any of these men": how we learned to take stalking seriously

About five years after the first emails arrived, the death threats started. When Sarah first began receiving messages from a man expressing a romantic interest, she shrugged them off. “I didn’t realise for some time that I had a stalker,” she says. They seemed confused and clumsy; strange, but nothing much to worry about. Later, when they became threatening – the man stalking her said he would attack her, or kill her – she went to the police. Even then, the police said it wasn’t very significant and not to worry about it. She was reassured at first, until she began to suspect that wasn’t the best advice. “I realised from the content of some of the messages that he was referring to real events in my life and that, according to him, we had met on one or two occasions. I don’t recall ever meeting him. I was alarmed – he wasn’t just a random person on the internet. Or he was, but he had taken a great deal of trouble to find out information about me. It was at that stage that I became really quite frightened that he might carry out one of these threats.”

She kept contacting the police, including making one statement at 4am “when I had received a number of threats and I couldn’t take it any more, and thought I would have to go and sleep at the police station”. Still nothing was done about it. “Eventually I found a very motivated police officer, who hadn’t had much training in this, but she made it her business to make something happen. With her support, I did eventually get somewhere, but I still had to do all of the preparation myself. I had started a long process of educating myself and educating the police. I had to learn everything myself.” The victim log she put together would detail how at one point she was receiving up to 10 emails a day.

Thinking back to when it started, Sarah says that if she had known more about stalking then, she would have gone to the police much earlier and pushed them to take it seriously. “I think it’s normal for people to think it doesn’t mean anything, or it will go away, but in my case it reached a point where it was unbearable. The earlier it can be stopped, the better.”

This week, the home secretary, Amber Rudd, announced plans for new Stalking Protection Orders, which would hopefully address this, and at an early stage. It would allow courts to ban stalkers from contacting their victims, even if they hadn’t been charged or convicted.

It has largely been welcomed by anti-stalking campaigners. “Anything that is another tool to deal with a stalker is great news,” says Jane Harvey, campaigns director of Network for Surviving Stalking. “But we need to get some of the basic building blocks in place. It takes people a long time to recognise what’s happening to them as stalking, so there’s under-reporting, and then at an early stage of a case, things can go wrong – a police officer hasn’t had training in stalking and the case is dismissed, or another element, such as criminal damage, will be seized upon instead of seeing the wider picture.”

Anti-stalking charities have broadly welcomed the new powers introduced by home secretary Amber Rudd, pictured at the Suzy Lamplugh Trust this week. Photograph: Yui Mok/PA

Catherine Skinner, chief executive of the charity Paladin, says: “You still hear that [police officers and others in the criminal justice system] don’t see the risks; they don’t see how the behaviour of the perpetrator can not just psychologically affect the victim – we see issues of suicidal ideation from our clients. But also there could be threats to kill, a history of violence, and things that could put victims at high risk.”

Research by the Suzy Lamplugh Trust has found that one in five women and one in 12 men will experience stalking. There have been several high-profile cases recently – a man was jailed in September for stalking the broadcaster Emily Maitlis for 25 years; in June, a man who stalked the singer Lily Allen for seven years, breaking into her house and entering her bedroom, was detained indefinitely under the Mental Health Act.

It is largely an unreported crime. The Suzy Lamplugh Trust estimates that in England and Wales, more than 1.1 million people are stalked each year, but police recorded 4,156 stalking crimes in the year to June, and just 1,102 cases were prosecuted. The proposed new protection orders are “a good thing,” says Victoria Charleston, policy and campaigns officer of the trust. “Where we are cautious is if the police are responsible for applying for these orders. If they’re not recognising stalking at the moment, are we clear that they are going to think about using them? We hope that there will be further training for police.”

It’s not a typical crime, Charleston says. “It’s a pattern of behaviour. It can be very small to begin with, before it escalates.” It is also a fairly new area for many health and criminal justice professionals. “It wasn’t really recognised until the 1980s, and the current anti-stalking legislation didn’t come in until 2012 [in England and Wales],” she adds. In October, Alex Chalk launched a private members’ bill to increase the maximum sentencing of five years. One of his constituents, Dr Eleanor Aston, a GP, had been targeted for seven years by a man who continued to stalk her even after serving a prison sentence for it.

Shan Parker, who lives in north Wales with her partner and daughter, has experienced stalking by a neighbour for the past five years. He would watch from his doorstep every time she left the house or came home. After about six months, when Parker was returning to work after maternity leave, he would follow her to work in his car. Around six months after that, he started following her partner as well. “On the days when he didn’t, it still made me nervous because I didn’t know where he was,” she says. “I didn’t know if he would turn up somewhere else.” The police have been repeatedly involved, but Parker feels there has been little support. “I’ve had anxiety and panic attacks. It’s caused a lot of stress between me and my partner. I feel awful for my daughter, who has had to grow up with visits from the police, and us watching over our shoulders.”

This year, research by the Suzy Lamplugh Trust found that 36% of stalking cases included online behaviours. For Emily, the man who stalked her was not someone she had met, but someone who became fixated on her and her family online. He found out her family’s email addresses and bombarded them with emails about her. “We reported it to the police and they said: ‘Just keep an eye on it and see what happens.’” He went quiet for a while, then started up again, trying to follow their various social media accounts. Shortly after this, he turned up at her parents’ house and tried to get in; he was arrested, and is awaiting sentencing. “It has been absolutely horrific,” Emily says. “I didn’t feel safe anywhere. I still check under my bed, in my cupboard. I spent £1,500 getting new locks put on my house. On the street, I don’t make eye contact with men. You lose all sense of faith in people.”

Amy, who has been stalked for four years, said she would keep her curtains closed in summer in case her stalker was watching her. Photograph: Thomas Fricke/Getty Images/First Light

Something similar happened to Beth Rylance, an actor and writer, who was stalked for several months in 2014 by a man who followed her on Twitter. She noticed him “liking” or replying to every tweet she wrote, and he would write about her on his own account. Eventually she blocked him and complained to Twitter several times. “But he would often delete his tweets, so Twitter would say they weren’t violent or harmful, and they couldn’t do anything about them. It was often a robotic reply. It wasn’t like they’d actually researched it and checked out what was going on. They did nothing.”

He started contacting her friends, and a few months later, he turned up on her doorstep. “It was horrific. When I started getting a bit worried about it, I used to picture in my head what I would do if I saw him. You think of the worst-case scenario, so when he turned up I wasn’t expecting it – but I also sort of was.” She screamed, slammed the door and called the police. When they arrived, they found him still sitting on her doorstep, tweeting about her. Later, looking at his account, she saw that the man – who lived several hundred miles away – had spent the week walking around her area, looking in pubs and cafes for her.

Amy has been stalked by a man for the last four years – an acquaintance from several years ago who developed a fixation with her. “It has gone from unwanted text messages and phone calls to hand-delivered letters and gifts,” she says. “They are all of a very strange nature. He’s delusional and has mentioned God having a plan for us to be together.” The first couple of times she went to the police about it, they talked her out of making a complaint, saying they would just have a word with the man. Later, he was charged with harassment without violence (rather than stalking), and after it went to court, he was given a restraining order, which he ignored. Even though he had breached the order, she says the police were dismissive of her – it was only after she got in touch with the National Stalking Helpline, who contacted the police on her behalf, that they followed it up. “Before, they would say things like ‘chances are you won’t hear from him again’. But it was obvious I would.”

The experience has had a huge effect on her life. In the summer, she says she was staying at home all day with the curtains closed because she was worried he would walk past the window and see her. “As soon as I walk in the door, I check for any letters. I feel really tense. Every time he is punished with a restraining order or community service hours, I don’t completely relax because the pattern is that it will start again at some point. The thing I would really like is for the mental health aspect to be recognised, because I think that is the root cause of the problem with him. People say [we should] make the stalking laws stricter, but it seems a shame to put someone into prison when it could be dealt with as a mental health issue. I would feel more reassured if he was being treated than if he was just going into prison and coming out again.”

Frank Farnham, consultant forensic psychiatrist at Barnet, Enfield and Haringey Mental Health NHS Trust, and a specialist in stalking behaviours, also favours treatment over custodial sentences for many offenders – not least because it is more likely to reduce reoffending, and is far cheaper. But one of the problems with the new stalking prevention order model, he says, is that requiring mental health treatment as part of the order might be too optimistic – if the offender doesn’t give consent, it can only be done under the Mental Health Act. But he does like the idea of requiring assessments. Stalking behaviours can look similar, but the motivations can be very different.

It is widely accepted there are five categories of stalker. The largest – thought to be somewhere between a third and a half – is the “rejected” stalker: someone, usually a man, upset by the end of a relationship who harasses his ex-partner. “That group are not usually mentally ill, but they might have personality problems – they can be quite grandiose, narcissistic. If you take that group away, there are very high rates of mental illness in [the other] groups.”

Intimacy seekers are “deluded” people who believe they are in a relationship with their victim, or could be. “The problem with that group is that if you believe you are on a mission from God, or convinced you’re destined to be [together], simply imposing an order isn’t going to stop you from doing it.” A third group – “incompetent suitors” – are not deluded but their behaviour may be due to a learning disability, and they don’t realise it is frightening or inappropriate. The “resentful” stalker is someone who harasses a person they believe is to blame for something that has happened to them – it is not uncommon for MPs, councillors and GPs to be stalked like this. “Some of those people are mentally ill – their paranoia is so severe that they are deluded. But underpinning all of this is a process where [there should be a] good assessment, to spot the people who are mentally ill and give them treatment.” (A fifth group, mercifully small, are “predatory” stalkers, whose victims are unaware they are being stalked; the stalking can be a prelude to a sexual attack.)

“Even if you do identify someone who is unwell, with the current state of mental health services, how do you get them into treatment?” asks Farnham, who used to treat people convicted of stalking until his funding was cut. He, along with the Suzy Lamplugh Trust and others, are trying to get a pilot programme going with the police service to look at intervention treatment – to treat stalking behaviour before it becomes dangerously entrenched – but they are yet to receive funding.

For the victims who have to endure stalking for years, the effects are profound. Sarah’s relationship with her partner broke down because of the stress it caused them; he felt worried about her, but also worried for his own safety. “There were times when [the man who was stalking her] would say he was going to come and kill me. Part of my rational brain said, ‘Well, he hasn’t up until now,’ but the other part thought: ‘Where do I go? To the police station? Where is he and what does he know? Should I move?’ It makes you hypervigilant. I would leave the gym, look around and think: ‘I just don’t know who it is. It could be any of those men.’ In my career I should probably be using the internet a lot more to publicise the work I do, and I don’t do that. I used to be a very sociable person but I entirely stopped socialising at one point.”

The man who has stalked her for 10 years eventually pleaded guilty and is awaiting sentencing. She isn’t wholly optimistic that her ordeal is over. “The truth is you never know.”

"It could be any of these men": how we learned to take stalking seriously

Has government learned the vital lessons of public service failures?

From the failure at Mid Staffordshire NHS foundation trust that led to the mistreatment of hundreds of patients, to the Rotherham children’s services scandal, we have seen been high-profile crises in public services that have had direct and disastrous effects on people’s lives.

Managing failure is a vital skill, and new research from the Institute for Government aims to understand how government can best respond to – and learn from – such events more effectively. It focuses on failures in four key public services, hospitals, local authorities, children’s services and schools, and ways to restore services quickly. A few common themes emerge:

The first lesson is to avoid some of the most common responses to failure, including blame and restructuring. It’s human instinct to find an individual to blame: 70%-80% of inquiries across a range of industries and professions attribute tragedies to the error of particular individuals. But this instinctive response usually fails to understand or to address why it was that an individual thought it best to act in a given way. The impulse to restructure in the wake of a crisis has a similar appeal – it feels like you are at least doing something – but will be effective only if linked to the actual causes of failure, which are frequently rooted in behaviour or culture.

One example is Doncaster metropolitan borough council, which was found to be failing by an Audit Commission inspection in 2010. by the Audit Commission. The communities secretary, John Denham subsequently appointed commissioners and service quality improved. They were withdrawn a year earlier than planned, in 2014.

Related: May’s Whitehall reshuffle shows disregard for evidence and expertise

In Doncaster, the turnaround was based in part on reconnecting the council with neighbouring authorities. It had become insular, and as it detached from its peers, it lost its sense of what good looked like.

This was a common phenomenon across our case studies; one teacher, appointed to a school just weeks before it was tipped into special measures, recalled that it was absolutely crystal clear the second they walked in that building that the school was failing. “What was terrifying was that it wasn’t clear to the people inside it.” To overcome this insularity, organisations began rebuilding links with their peers, including them on improvement boards or by making use of sector-specific services such as the Local Government Association’s peer challenge tool.

Doncaster also avoided the risk of pursuing an unsustainable recovery based on temporary appointments or relying on external support. The commissioners were clear that ownership should remain with the council. The test for ending the intervention was not whether services had returned to a good standard, but whether commissioners were confident that the council could reach that point without further external support. In contrast, in Tower Hamlets in 2014, the commissioners sent in by then-communities secretary Eric Pickles formed an executive board and replaced the council in the day-to-day running of services.

Failure is not going to go away, but at least we can minimise its impact if the government is prepared to learn lessons from the past. There is plenty of scope for improvement.

Oliver Ilott is a researcher at the Institute for Government.

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Has government learned the vital lessons of public service failures?

The New York Occasions Revisits The "Debate" In excess of Electromagnetic Fields, Reviving Baseless Fears, While Ignoring What Has Been Learned

Yesterday, in its Science Occasions section, the New York Times published a piece by Kenneth Chang titled “Debate Continues on Hazards of Electromagnetic Waves.”   The report appears below a new heading “Time Travel,” an occasional column that “explores subjects covered in the Science Times 25 many years ago to see what has altered – and what has not.”

To match the new format, Chang referred to a Science Occasions post from 1989 that talked about the achievable adverse overall health effects from electromagnetic fields (EMF) produced by power lines, electrical appliances and machinery, and wiring in the home.

Even so, in actuality this situation came to prominence 10 many years earlier, when an post was published claiming that young children who lived near electrical power lines were twice as probably to die of cancer as children who had been not exposed.

This research was the catalyst for many additional scientific studies above the following three decades, and many assessments by scientific organizations and wellness agencies.  As a outcome we have actually discovered anything about EMF.

Buddies meet and chat, utilizing a cell cellphone to say hi, Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco, Mexico (Photograph credit score: Wonderlane)

But Chang interviewed a professor of public well being David O. Carpenter, because he had been interviewed 25 many years in the past for the Science Instances article.  Carpenter has lengthy been voicing his concern about EMF, and he tells Chang, “The whole thing is very worrisome.  We see the guidelines of the iceberg, but we have no idea how large the iceberg is.  It ought to concern us all.”

According to Carpenter, “Almost absolutely nothing has altered in 25 many years in terms of the controversy, even though the evidence for biological effects of electromagnetic fields continues to increase stronger.”

As the report indicates, a lot of the concern has shifted away from the incredibly-minimal frequency EMF (ELF-EMF) from energy lines and appliances to the higher frequency radiofrequency (RF) waves utilised by cellular telephones and Wi-Fi.

By acquiring his update from Professor Carpenter, Chang is receiving a very skewed see of the pertinent proof that has accumulated in excess of the past decades.  Carpenter is related with the Bioinitiative Working Group, a fringe group whose members are convinced that the two varieties of waves (ELF-EMF and RF) are probably dangerous.

This view contrasts with that of any number of specialist organizations and well being agencies that have assessed the wellness results of ELF-EMF and radiofrequency power and found no steady or credible proof of a threat.  These incorporate: the American Bodily Society, the Nationwide Cancer Institute, the American Cancer Society American Cancer Society, the Nationwide Academy of Sciences, and the Global Commission on Non-Ionizing Radiation Protection.

People who look to have a vested interest in believing that EMF/RF are hazardous at the levels at which people are exposed in everyday life have a tendency to cite evidence that suits their argument.

Exactly where cell phones are concerned, they tend to cite a minority of epidemiologic research by a single study group in Sweden that seem to link use of mobile phones to enhanced threat of certain brain cancers.  But they ignore the significantly more substantial entire body of studies from all in excess of the globe which demonstrate no this kind of association.

They also disregard the fact that, in spite of the dramatic growth of cell mobile phone use over the past two decades, there has been no improve in brain cancers, either in the U.S., in Scandinavia, or elsewhere.

The believers also are quick to point to experimental studies that appear to show damaging results on cells.  However, it is usually difficult to know how the final results of this kind of studies – if appropriate – apply to complete organisms, and specifically to humans.

In 2011, the International Company for Analysis on Cancer assessed the evidence with regards to cell phones and basically located no experimental evidence supporting a role of this sort of vitality in the cancer method.  However, in an extra of caution, the agency labeled radiofrequency radiation a “possible carcinogen.”

As the Occasions article indicated, technology is evolving, and properly-created scientific studies ought to be conducted to check the results of its use.  But that is quite different from the mindset of these who select isolated, and probably anomalous, benefits in support of their conviction that power lines or cell phones are creating adverse well being effects.

The New York Occasions Revisits The "Debate" In excess of Electromagnetic Fields, Reviving Baseless Fears, While Ignoring What Has Been Learned

How I lost my awesome and learned to enjoy e-cigarettes

Alexis Petridis smoking his e-cigarette – move over, Marlboro Guy. Photograph: Andrew Hasson for the Guardian

I can pinpoint the actual second when I determined to cease smoking. It was one night last October. I was standing in the garden, courageously operating my way via a Marlboro Menthol, undeterred by the fact that I had a chest infection. The rain was virtually horizontal: amongst that and the explosive cough that every other drag occasioned, it was fairly tough to hold the cigarette alight.

A significantly less dogged guy would have stopped and taken his wheezing chest indoors. But I was caught with cigarettes, even though I had cut down from twenty a day to a mere five some many years ago. I stuck with them even when the cost grew to become ludicrous – a week prior to, at a kiosk in central London, I had barely received adjust from a tenner. I had caught with cigarettes despite the wellness warnings and the photo on the packet of the guy with the cancerous development on his throat, and the encounter my wife produced when the fiscal adviser mentioned the expense of lifestyle insurance coverage. What was a bit of rain and a hacking cough? I was not going to be denied the basic pleasure of smoking, even when it was evidently a profoundly unpleasant knowledge.

And then it hit me: what the hell was I performing? It wasn’t just that I was unwell and creating myself worse by performing one thing that stood a honest opportunity of killing me, even though the health dangers had been more and more challenging to put out of my mind: two pals had been diagnosed with cancer (neither was smoking-connected, the two survived, but nonetheless). It was a lot more that I all of a sudden appeared to catch sight of myself. Like, I suspect, nearly each teenager who starts smoking, I had taken up the habit because I thought it was great. Despite the best efforts of anti-smoking campaigners, common culture is still packed with images, albeit old ones, of people who looked very good with a cigarette in their hand: the Beatles Bob Dylan the Ratpack Miles Davis innumerable French actors in nouvelle vague movies David Bowie on the cover of Young Americans, or, even much better, onstage as the Thin White Duke, the blue packet of Gitanes protruding from his waistcoat pocket the only flash of colour in his monochrome outfit.

I suppose I was subconsciously labouring underneath the impression that, if I smoked, some of their awesome would transfer itself to me. A mere 25 years later on, I realised that it undoubtedly hadn’t. I wasn’t Jean-Paul Belmondo, insouciantly reaching for a submit-coital Gitanes whilst Jeanne Moreau or Anna Karina slumbered subsequent to him. I was a 42-year-old man on a patio in Brighton in the tipping rain, sporting his wife’s cagoule, and the final time I had coughed, a lump of mucus had shot out of my mouth and landed on my foot. What the hell was I carrying out? That was it: I was packing in.

I clearly didn’t have the willpower to quit with out some variety of crutch. Part of me did not actually want to quit at all. I loved the taste of cigarettes, the smell of their smoke, I linked them with events and exciting, calm moments of solitary reflection and conspiratorially gossipy conversations. So I opted for an e-cigarette, which, as my wife was swift to point out, isn’t genuinely giving up so significantly as swapping one particular addiction for one more, much less harmful a single, which explains why they are so successful.

Even so, the life of the vaper isn’t with out small privations. If the argument that e-cigarettes will in the long run lure youngsters into smoking seems specious, I suspect that’s largely due to the fact the one thing that smoking an e-cigarette certainly doesn’t do is make you appear great. Quite the opposite: whatever the health advantages, it feels faintly pathetic whipping out an e-cigarette when the people around you are smoking the real thing, like turning up at the Giro d’Italia on a bike with stabilisers.

If an aura of amazing has somehow clung to cigarettes despite the ideal efforts of anti-smoking campaigners – despite the reality that the most noticeable pro-smoking campaigner in Britain is at the moment Nigel Farage, a man with all the insouciant awesome of a toddler on a bouncy castle – then the opposite looks to be accurate of e-cigarettes. From the outset, when they had been introduced to Britain by a businessman called Greg Carson, who attempted to industry them below the regrettable name Electro Fag, a particular naffness has been hard to shake. In my case, said naffness has been exacerbated by the fact that, yesterday, I managed to knock my e-cig on to the floor, breaking off the button that activates it: until finally I replace it, the only way I can get it to perform is by jabbing the area where the button employed to be with a ballpoint pen. Performing this, I uncover myself reflecting that I’m clearly some distance from the effortless fag-in-hand awesome of the Ratpack or Miles Davis. If Bowie in Thin White Duke mode had sauntered onstage with the intro of Station to Station blaring moodily, then whipped out an e-cigarette and began frantically prodding it with a pen to make it operate, I am reasonably specific that iconic status would have been more difficult to come by.

But it does not matter, since the e-cigarette operates. After 25 many years, I have stopped smoking cigarettes. It hasn’t conquered my addiction to nicotine, but it has altered my perspective to cigarettes. I know this because of the 1 time since October when I faltered. En route to interviewing a heavy metal band in Las Vegas, I mislaid my e-cig. With, I have to admit, a specific excitement, I decided I did not have time to change it and instead bought twenty Marlboro Menthol. I lit one, and to my horror, it tasted disgusting: I had got utilized to the lighter, sweeter flavour of the e-liquid vapour (I use RY4, which adds a delightful hint of caramel and vanilla to the tobacco-flavour base). Worse, it produced me feel disgusting, swim-headed and nauseous, which I suppose is down to the chemical substances present in fags that aren’t there in e-cig vapour.

So I did anything that the guy in his wife’s cagoule, coughing his guts up in the rain, would have regarded as an act of lunacy: I threw a virtually complete packet of cigarettes in the bin.

How I lost my awesome and learned to enjoy e-cigarettes