May 14, 2024

The Odd God of Atheism

The Odd God of Atheism

This was written for the Church Times in January 2011

Meeting a former university colleague I noticed with interest how some of his previous views had changed. This wasn’t surprising, for maturity challenges many of our attitudes and ideas. What was more surprising was that when he began to talk about religion, his views were exactly the same as they were twenty five years ago. He was still an atheist. What’s more, the reasons he gave for his atheism were identical to the justification he had offered then. He simply couldn’t conceive of a disembodied superior being, invisible but all powerful, who knows everything, wills whatever he wishes and existed before time began. To him, ‘God’ seemed an abstract and unnecessary concept, one quite irrelevant to what he knew to be ‘normal life’.

I was intrigued to find that I didn’t want to contest his statement. In fact, I could quite see his point. Conceiving of such a being, divorced from any experience of relationships, emotion, moral decision, prayer and wonder, would require a substantial amount of imagination! And supposing we did find someone who could conceive of a supreme being with these attributes. Would that enable her to live a better and more purposeful life?

The question for my colleague boiled down to whether he could give intellectual assent to the existence of a Deity, as rationally defined and described. He could not give assent, so was therefore an unbeliever. Yet judged on these criteria, many believers would also be ‘unbelievers’. They would find it difficult to imagine a supreme being in the abstract terms which he outlined. This would not necessarily be a failure of faith, however, but more a failure of language and imagination.

The Church has recognized since the thirteenth century that the concepts we form and the language we use about God are deeply inadequate. Theologians have struggled with how to speak of an ineffable God, how to express the inexpressible, how to picture One who is so infinitely beyond our finite human powers of conceptualisation. In an attempt to get away from rationalist abstractions, we are frequently invited into worship and silence as more reliable ways of encountering God. For God, we are often told, can be known, but not pictured; experienced, but not imagined.

The problem in conversing with my colleague was that he and I seemed to be talking of different things. He saw belief as a mental process. I see it as intrinsically relational, as trust.. He saw belief as a ‘tag-on’ to real life. I see it as the lens through which I experience all reality. He saw belief as conferring access to a privatised spiritual zone of religious rituals and language. .I see it as relating to a material world where God is disclosed by every bird in the forest, and the cattle on a thousand hills. He saw God as remote. I see God engaged in everything around us.

So is there any point of contact? Yes. From my perspective it is everywhere. We live in the same world, share a common humanness, recognize the same needs and emotions, experience the same longings for wholeness. Whether he acknowledges it or not, my colleague, like me, is made by a God who is love and who invites us into loving, healing relationships. So the first step is to explore belief in a relationship of mutual respect and openness. There, rather than argue about how to define or describe God we can enter the narrative of the Christian faith. And as we experience the  implications of the Word made Flesh, we might even find that Christ begins to bring God within reach.

Cambridge

January 2011

 

 

Fighting a Cause

Fighting a Cause

This week the British Red Cross in the UK has been fighting to safeguard its reputation. The problem is not, however, scandal or embezzlement. It is not like the aggravated fraud which sent its communication chief,  Johan af Donner to prison in Sweden last year after swindling the Swedish Red Cross of millions of kroner. Nevertheless, the Red Cross has made allegations that it has suffered a breach of trust and that the Geneva Convention has been violated.  So what is the issue?

Amazingly, it is a children’s theatrical event – a pantomime held at the Pavilion Theatre Glasgow. The pantomime is an annual British institution which re-enacts popular fairy tales and follow predictable plots. Viewed from the outside the tradition is certainly eccentric. The leading man is usually a girl, his mother, the ‘dame’ is a man in drag, there are villains and heroes, fairies and elves, and the amiable ‘horse’ is played by two actors inside an animal costume. The large, lively cast is supplemented by the audience who are a key part of the production and shout predictable lines of  warning or disagreement. It’s all silly but great fun, and families flock to theatres during January to brighten dull winter evenings.

Yet this harmless event has caused offence in Glasgow – not because of the plot or risqué humour  – but because of the dress. The outfit of the dame,  exaggerated as usual,  sported a large red cross on the hat and chest and this brought allegations of unlawful activity.  Recognizing how their response might be interpreted, the British Red Cross insisted they had ‘no desire to be the villains of the pantomime’ but that they had a serious obligation to protect the emblem since it is recognized internationally for its neutrality and its use is limited by the Geneva Convention. The pantomime producers did not argue. They climbed down rapidly and changed the colour to green.

The incident has raised an ethical discussion. How far should one go to protect an emblem? No-one seriously thinks that a Scottish theatre had any intention of undermining international humanitarian commitment. So where there is no motive of offence, is a legal reprimand really justifiable?

Surely, it is, because the power of an emblem depends on the integrity of its meaning and use. The Red Cross grew from Calvinist and evangelical roots in Switzerland in the mid -19th century, but it was a non-partisan Christianity, committed to seeking good for all people, providing protection for the vulnerable, whoever they were. The Cross –the symbol for Christians of Christ’s death for us –became red on a white background, universally recognizable, to assure us that all humanity matters. And for almost 150 years we have learnt to trust the Red Cross to act with impartiality, bringing help to those who need it even in the midst of war and violence.

So the Glasgow pantomime can have fun but not trivialize the Red Cross emblem. The world cannot afford for its significance to be diminished.

First published in Dagen

January 2011

New Vision. Old Legacy

New vision. Old legacy

The contest between David and Ed Milliband for the leadership of the British labour Party has opened up our recent social and political history. Their father, Ralph Milliband was one of Britain’s leading Marxist thinkers and academics. Their mother, Marion Kozak was a former member of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament and is still active in human rights. These parents, from  Polish Jewish ancestry, were survivors of the holocaust in which many of their family members died. Ralph and his own father fled to Britain in 1940, and Marion Kozac spent much of the war in hiding before she too came to the UK.. When they married,  he was already a celebrated intellectual and she had been his student.  Their two sons grew to be  prominent members of the Labour Party, and the younger one, Ed Milliband has become its new and youngest-ever leader.

The leadership contest was one of dignity and respect. And even though the media followed the men everywhere,  determined to expose dissent and animosity, they found little to expose. The solid affection between the brothers was as evident as the warmth of their commitment to each other. They spoke openly of the legacy of growing up in a close family of Jewish refugees.

Their father’s political ideas, however, have not enjoyed the same lasting influence. By the time of Ralph Milliband’s death in 1994, any remaining vestiges of his Marxist ideals were disappearing from British politics. They would be virtually eradicated over the next decade by Tony Blair’s reformulation of socialism into a pro-capitalist party of New Labour, which would absorb even his own sons.

The same seems true of the heritage of faith. Ed Milliband acknowledges respect for those believers, supports faith schools, and wants to draw Christians, Jews and Muslims into the public discourse. But he himself is a Jew who does not believe in God.

So his leader’s speech to Conference took many by surprise. For he began to use language we had not heard for two decades. He repudiated New Labour, denying its claims of a classless Britain where wealth ‘trickled down’ from the wealthy to the rest.  He exposed the myths of equality and opportunity, pointing to the levels of exploitation,  poverty and powerlessness. He called for justice for workers, insisted on the need for a living wage, and told us we have the wrong evaluation of worth. It is unacceptable, he said, to rapturous applause, that a banker can receive in a day what a care worker earns in a year.

People have heard echoes of his Marxist father. But those of us who know the prophets of his faith tradition can also hear echoes of Isaiah and Amos. Their cry against exploitation and injustice is taken up by the New Testament also. St James warns that the wages we fail to pay to workers will cry out against us. Jesus himself tells parables to drive home that God holds us responsible for how we serve the poor. The new Labour leader is drawing on a deeper legacy of faith than he realizes.

First published in Dagen

October 1 2010

A Hung Parliament?

A Hung Parliament?

This was written for Dagen, May 2010.

The result of the British General Election was widely predicted. The outcome, as expected was a ‘hung parliament’. The very phrase signifies uncertainty; parliament ‘hanging around’ waiting for some leader to emerge. Even though we anticipated it, the traditionalist press went into panic mode, announcing ‘Britain faces limbo’ and that ‘fears of a power vacuum in Westminster have sent financial markets into freefall.’ Some even saw a crisis parallel to that of Greece.

There is an individualism built into Britain’s ‘first past the post’ electoral system. The single candidate with the most votes in any constituency wins the seat, and the single political party with enough seats to cross the finishing line forms a government. So when, as in this election, no-one crosses the finishing line there is confusion. Political hardliners forecast gloomily that it will be impossible for any party to govern, and we will need another election within months.

Yet many UK voters find it extraordinary that we cling to this old electoral system with its  polarized view of power and combative process of policy-making. It barely seems to serve the interests of democracy when one party polls 36% of the votes and gets 47% of the seats, whilst another gains 23% of the votes but only 9% of the seats. Minority parties have no voice, but a major party, with only one out of 59 Scottish MPs, has a mandate to rule Scotland! This way of approaching government seems undemocratic and odd; all the more so because elsewhere in British society we make decisions by consensus and conduct elections by proportional representation.

The Christian roots of British social democracy have often been acknowledged by politicians, including Gordon Brown. Indeed, embedded within the traditions of European and American democracy is a long Christian legacy. Theological principles like the idea of human accountability, the equal significance of each person, and the commitment to care for our neighbours form a bedrock for law-making and government. Our legacy urges respect for justice, and good stewardship. It endorses human freedom and gives us the responsibility to choose well. Even in a secular age these principles are almost engrained in public awareness and values.

In this election, the dominant British media focused on leader debates and ignored many key issues which concerned the public. Now they deride the electorate for not knowing what it wants. But the election result might well suggest the British public does know what it wants. There is surely something significant in the wide distribution of votes, the election of the first Green Party MP (despite media and electoral disadvantage), and the lack of overall support for any one party. It could be a strong indication that the electorate wants stronger democratic values; that it wants politicians to work together in a more consensual democracy where everyone’s vote counts equally. Let us hope this week can bring us closer to that.

Dagen Newspaper, Sweden, May 2010

Icon or Image?

Icon or Image? 

Tourism in Turin has clearly been high on the agenda this week.  The city has been  geared up for millions of visitors as the Turin Shroud goes on public display. Viewers will be restricted to three or four minutes before the bullet-proof, climate-controlled case containing the Shroud, but with free admission, over a million reservations were made long before the event. Obviously scarcity value has increased its appeal; it was on public display only five times last century.

The Turin Shroud is undoubtedly the most historic, most analysed and most controversial piece of linen in the world. The 14 feet long cloth appears to disclose the front and back of a long-haired, bearded man with bodily injuries consistent with crucifixion, and a gash in the side. And even though the first reliable documented evidence of its existence came as late as the mid-14th century in Europe, people have long  believed it to be the burial cloth of Jesus. The haunting face, produced by a  photographic ‘negative’ in 1898 has become in folklore an actual representation of Christ. Some go even further and argue that for such an image to be left by a dead man, something utterly inexplicable must have occurred – something consistent with dematerialism or Resurrection.

Over the last decade the science and the arguments have swung backwards and forward. In 1998, carbon-dating research done in three independent centres concluded that the shroud was mediaeval. In 1999 a botanist in the Hebrew University, Jerusalem said pollen grains found on the shroud could only have come from the Holy Land. In 2005 a retired chemist put the Shroud  at between 1300 and 3000 years old, challenging the carbon-dating result because it included fire-damage repair patches sewn on in the thirteenth century. This was later disputed. Earlier this year, researchers suggested that new dating techniques could more conclusively verify the age of the Shroud than ever before. Whether they will get the opportunity to find out is uncertain. For the next month at least, the Shroud is not for scientific analysis but for everyone’s gaze.

The question is does it matter? Atheists and cynics think not. They amuse themselves by deriding the relic and questioning every motive of those involved, whether the protectionism of the Catholic church, the bias of researchers, the naivety of superstition, or the commercialism of Turin. But for scientists, historians and ordinary believers, history always matters. How we interpret what the past leaves behind as its physical remains is crucially important. It does make a difference whether the Shroud was wrapped round the body of Christ, or is simply a mediaeval artefact, constructed for unknown reasons.  The Church might be right that ‘displaying the Shroud helps the faithful meditate, pray and contemplate on the mystery and extraordinary suffering of Christ’ but its real meaning is bound up with the truth of its history.

Yet, its significance should never be overplayed. Every believer knows there is very much more to Christianity than we could ever find by analysing a relic and dating its origin. Faith in Christ is not based on the authenticity of a Shroud but on the power of the Gospel and the teaching of the Apostles. If we want to reflect on the abiding image of Christ, we would not be looking at a gravecloth, however authentic, but at the biblical account of his life, death and resurrection. For the witness of the Gospels is what draws us to recognize Christ as ‘the  image of the invisible God.’

It is interesting to see how this image reaches beyond the grave. Even Einstein, scientist and often agnostic, was held enthralled not by investigating myth or relic, but by the Christ in the Scriptures. ‘No one’, he said, ‘can read the Gospels without feeling the actual presence of Jesus. His personality pulsates in every word. No myth is filled with such life.’ Whatever we see in the Turin Shroud, we can say ‘Amen’ to that.

Published in Church of England Newspaper

April 2010

Big Profits from Cheap relationships

Big Profits from Cheap relationships

This was written for the Church Times in January 2010.

Some people’s New Year Resolution is to find more exciting relationships. At least that is what we are told by online dating agencies. For them, January is always a busy month, but business this year is currently outstripping others.  Agencies have reported record increases of visitors to their websites over the last fortnight – related, it seems to the number of people snowed in, and so ‘working’ at home. In the middle of last week, with the ice at its most treacherous and the country’s workforce enjoying an extended lie-in, visitors to one website soared by 55% with most logging on early afternoon.

Brisk business for the dating agencies suggests slower business for companies: firms might well be curious to know how much real work was actually done at home. But, even without benefits from the bad weather the online dating services are clearly not suffering from recession.  According to a leading market research group, the number of Britons paying to register for online dating services is set to grow from 2.6 million people in 2006 to six million by 2012, creating revenues of around £368m.

Controversially, those reporting the biggest increase are websites specifically for extra-marital affairs. I turned up one such website and found that people bored with their marriages or current partners can enjoy a ‘discreet romp’ with any number of others for a small registration fee of £15.99. From the shadowy profiles offered it appeared that around 700 of its registered members were at that moment roaming around online looking for a discreet liaison. Another such agency launched in 2001 now boasts ten thousand ‘all married’ members, mostly ‘high-flying professionals’. Men outnumber women three to one. The site owner claims proudly that ‘infidelity has gone from being a niche market’ to ‘verging on mainstream’.

If this is a growing trend, then why? Many commentators focus on the recession. As companies flounder and people are made redundant, inexpensive forms of escapism are in demand. An internet affair is exciting, easily available, temporary, and very cheap. As some site owners point out – this is not dating, there is no need even to buy flowers or dinner; you just head for the bedroom where money worries and nagging spouses can be forgotten in a short, no-strings sexual encounter. The fact that infidelity is smoothly arranged between people who risk the same makes it even safer – and guarantees lucrative profits to service providers.

The assumptions behind this analysis are problematic. They demean the nature of relationships, treating them as another aspect of consumerism. When marriage fails to meet requirements, traders step in and offer infidelity as a more effective commodity. In reality, marriages in a consumerist society are often undermined by the greater demands of work, becoming entangled with money and success. Too often they are required to spice up pressured lives  or to provide a respite from stress, yet without the commitment of time and energy given exclusively to each other which any marriage needs to grow strong.

Studies repeatedly show that most people looking for a relationship still see fidelity  as part of love. That shouldn’t surprise us as it’s woven in to the very meaning of marriage and central to its Christian roots. Faithfulness provides a secure base for the experience of intimacy as well as the freedom to enjoy the ordinariness of relationship together. But  we may need to demonstrate in our own lives that marital commitment breaks the stranglehold of our culture; that ‘for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and health’ eliminates the need for trading, and cuts the heart out of consumerism.

January 2010

Hope for Haiti

Hope for Haiti

This was written for the Church Times in January 2010.

The devastating earthquake has brought Haiti’s needs into the consciousness of millions. A neglected half-island in the Caribbean suddenly comes under the spotlight of international scrutiny and its shocking statistics widely disseminated. Thanks to relentless coverage, most of us are now all too aware that this country needs help.

My own experience of Haiti  parallels the media reports. Tearfund is involved in Haiti precisely because more than half its population live in acute poverty, with very high rates of unemployment and illiteracy.  Urban slums offer no clean water or sanitation and, even in the country’s capital, streets are shrouded in darkness as electricity supply is erratic. But the poverty is more than economic. Environmental degradation means both soil and species have become endangered and with 98% of its forests felled the country is particularly vulnerable to flooding from hurricanes. In 2008, four storms in as many weeks left a million homeless. Health care, social welfare and public services are thin; disease and malnutrition are rampant. There are regular outbreaks of diarrhoea, hepatitis, typhoid, dengue fever, and malaria.  HIV is a massive problem, and the country has an infant mortality rate even worse than that of some African nations. To this litany of woes we must add Haiti’s high crime rate and disastrous political history, where corruption, passive governments and turmoil have left a country struggling with instability.  The autocratic, fourteen year regime of Francois Duvalier (‘Papa Doc)’ reinforced voodoo, tortured opponents and put to death some 30,000 Haitians. To suggest that the country suffers from a legacy of hardship and low morale amongst ordinary citizens would be a major understatement.

My last visit to Haiti in 2008 coincided with a period of instability and a spate of hostage-taking. The British Consulate had pulled out of the country three years earlier because of heightened security conditions. Before I went, I phoned a contact in the Foreign Office about guidance for British Nationals. ‘Don’t go,’ was the simple reply. My Haitian hosts assured me that I would be safe in their home, under their protection and I was. Their generous care and hospitality offered me the privilege of observing aspects of Haitian society from the inside.

The media reports give an accurate picture but tell only half the story.  Certainly, there is vast poverty, corruption and crime along with high susceptibility to natural disasters. But alongside all these is the remarkable truth that Haiti has been enjoying something of a spiritual growth over the last two decades. Nominally a Catholic country, where Voodoo has held grip over many people’s lives,  Haiti has seen a surge of  Christian awakening at grass roots level. I was aware of dozens of new churches which had sprung up since my last visit- apparently more than 600, mostly Protestant, in the capital alone. Both traditional denominations and new charismatic churches have seen growth. On normal Sundays, Port au Prince gives very visible evidence of keen Christian observance; with thousands of people dressed in Sunday best, walking to churches and carrying Bibles. I was preaching in one such church, and with its doors open on to the street during two hours of worship, it felt as if we were part of a whole metropolis which had erupted into praise.

 

In a country which knows such hardship and suffering, there is always a danger that faith can become culturally separate and pietistic, offering a distraction from pain by focusing on internal ‘spiritual life’ Mature Christian leaders in Haiti have been only too aware of this danger. At a personal level the Gospel has long been integrated with social concern. Educated and more affluent Christians take responsibility for the welfare of individual families in the slums, paying even to educate their children. But denominational leaders and seminarians invited me to explore with them how the Christian faith might impact the needs of  Haitian society in a more structured way.  Micah Challenge – a global network committed to integral mission and advocacy – brought 70 leaders together, to address poverty, economics, children, HIV/AIDS, gender, ecology, education and business all within a theological and biblical context.. With so many sharing the vision together, practical co-operation was suddenly possible; Christian initiatives could get off the ground.  I came home believing that through the vision of the Christians I had met, God really could empower ordinary Hatians to change society.

Then comes an earthquake so devastating that it might well rip out the heart of faith itself. Homes and people are gone, church buildings ruined, lives shattered. For Christians this is surely a test to the utmost. The messages from Haitian friends describe the carnage, the hunger, the bodies piled on the street. Yet hope and trust remain. They will rebuild. ‘We have our treasure in earthen vessels’ writes one. ‘But we are not destroyed. For God holds the power for our future.’

Cambridge

January 2010

 

Refusing their Claims

Refusing their Claims

This was written for Dagen October 2009

We have become used to news of the global financial crisis, but now in the UK we find we have a local crisis also.  It is one not of scarcity but over-abundance, and affects our politicians. The country has been shocked to discover the very large sums of money claimed as expenses by Members of Parliament. The claims have arisen because of the need of MPs for two homes – one in London where parliament meets, and the other in the constituency they represent. Costs of upkeep of these homes are shared by the Exchequer. However, a few of the claims have assumed enormous proportions, and the details are bizarre. Taxpayers have been footing the bill for swimming pool filters, the cleaning of a moat around a country house, servants to look after empty properties, and payments on non-existent mortgages. Names of politicians from all political parties have hit the headlines this week. It is also sobering that the issues have been made public, not by any official report into parliamentary expenses, but through the investigations of one of our national newspapers.

As fresh revelations emerge every day, they are accompanied by calls for the offending politicians to return the money.  And the calls have been heeded. By the middle of last week twenty MPs had agreed to pay back £100,000 claimed inappropriately. As the Parties reflect on all this, there has been a renewed call for a similar exposure to be made of practices in the European Parliament.  Here, however, the note is rather more sinister with little willingness for the figures to be made known. Auditors’ reports seem to have been kept secret, yet we read allegations of some £100 million claimed on top of MEP salaries.

All this has raised two key issues. The first is the relationship between legality and morality. In the UK, none of our politicians has been charged with unlawful activity. There is no suggestion that they were engaged in corruption or fraud. It is simply that there are loopholes in the system which enabled it to be exploited to the financial advantage of those involved. But the electorate is not at all reassured by this explanation.  Just because something is lawful does not mean that it is moral. The point is a contemporary echo of Christ’s argument in the Gospels. He pointed out that  the legality of the ‘Corban’ practices did not make them right. To claim privileges for oneself by depriving the elderly was, however lawful, a denial of true morality. And, two millennia later, we still are conscious of the yawning gap between what the law might allow and what the conscience should forbid.

The second issue is about the nature of public office. It is fascinating that many of those exposed this week as self-interested and complacent are the same people who went into politics to make the country a better place. As we recall their early, passionate speeches we wonder what happened to bring about such a change. How does high motivation with regard to political office turn into compromised practice with regard to the public purse?

The answer may be something to do with a loss of humility. The Christian faith, which has bequeathed much to the politics of Europe, ought to remind us that leadership is fundamentally about service and neighbour love. Politicians are elected to be servants of the people and their calling is to seek the common good. Certainly we need good laws to define a just society and protect the vulnerable. But we also need a humble view of public office which discards privilege and affirms the vocation to serve others. Only when these come together can we safeguard morality and discourage those who exploit the system to serve themselves.

Dagen October 2009

 

Abuse is Not Intimacy

Abuse is Not Intimacy

This was written for the Church Times in September 2009.

Years ago, I was challenged at the end of a talk to make a response to St Peter’s insistence that women are the ‘weaker vessel’ (1 Peter 3 v 7).  The questioner clearly saw this as implying some kind of female inferiority which was incompatible with the gender egalitarianism I was expounding.

This week the issue came up again in a very different context. St Peter wasn’t mentioned, but the underlying ambiguity was evident enough.  A report published by the University of Bristol and the NSPCC surveyed 1300 youngsters aged between 13 and 17 and found that 90% of the girls had been in an intimate relationship. One third of the girls had suffered sexual abuse in relationship, with seventeen percent saying they were forced to have sex.  A quarter of the girls reported violence at the hands of their boyfriends, and one in 16 said they had been raped. Experiences from the boys in the survey also indicated the presence of violence, with one in seventeen saying they had been pressured into having sex.  In the words of one commentator the report showed ‘immense peer pressure’ among teenagers to behave in certain ways, which can result in ‘disrespectful or violent relationships with girls often bearing the brunt’.

The findings have produced some stunned responses, even from those who commissioned the research. Professor David Berridge was shocked to find exploitation and violence in relationships starting so young, and described the rate of violence as ‘appalling.’ Diane Sutton, head of NSPCC policy and public research was shocked that ‘so many young people view violence or abuse in relationships as normal’.

And indeed, shocking it is.  That such abuse should be identified as intimacy is a denial of human value. Yet this is not a problem which originates with teenagers, but often handed down by those who are older. The two groups of girls who were found to be particularly at risk were those with older boyfriends and those who had already experienced violence from adults within their family.  It seems part of a societal legacy of relational dysfunction and disrespect, which all too quickly creates a pervasive culture of abuse.  Perhaps we should not be so surprised when this is mirrored in the experiences of teenage intimacy.

So how should we respond as Christians? It goes without saying that we need to both teach and model something better – relationships which are committed, faithful, respectful, safe and non-coercive. That we actively pursue the fruits of the Spirit in our own marriages and friendships. The very least the Church could do is to open a new window on love joy, peace, patience,  kindness, goodness, faithfulness. gentleness and self-control ‘against which there is no law’.

But we might also need to revisit that statement by St Peter.  Within his culture the woman was  indeed the ‘weaker vessel’ ;  not spiritually,  but within the structures of patriarchal society. Today also, women might still be said to be ‘weaker’- not in any sense of inferiority or inadequacy –but in cultural terms,  with potential economic and physical vulnerability.  Yet women’s sexual vulnerability is no justification for discrimination or stereotyping, even less for abuse.  There should be no incompatibility between promoting an egalitarian society which celebrates difference and acknowledging that girls have always been in need of protection. The two go together.  The problem comes when male power and gender violence are accepted as normal, and we fail to censure those who are predatory and abusive.  St Peter had a better idea: that men live considerately in relationships and ‘bestow honour’ on women.

September 2009

 

More than Justice

More than Justice

This was written for the Church Times in May 2009.

So which of us has not backed the Gurkha campaign, or nodded consent every time Joanna Lumley spelt out their case? For weeks, the public mood has been overwhelmingly in favour of their right to settle in the UK, and victory last Thursday came not a day too soon.

The anatomy of the successful campaign has been minutely examined. Of course there was the combination of glamour, colour and courage, with the striking visual impact of a beautiful celebrity flanked by ageing Nepalese war veterans. Then, the personal link through Lumley’s father who fought alongside the Gurkhas during the Second World War, was a media winner, and gave the campaign weight and  authenticity. Public perceptions of the soldiers themselves as noble, altruistic, brave and loyal despite their treatment, highlighted the injustice of their present situation.  And the current disrespect for politics and politicians no doubt increased the public outrage, and made this the right campaign  at the right moment.

But now that the cameras have packed up and the cheers have stopped, what will the campaign leave behind?  Certainly, a just outcome for brave people who risked their lives for the country they now want to live in, and a satisfaction that Britain can actually do the right thing when it has a mind to. But I hope there might be something more, something less headline-grabbing, perhaps, but crucially important for the way we do public affairs.

For me, two other things made this campaign different from most. The first was the overriding sense that legality must be brought into line with morality. Although it was legal to exclude Gurkhas from residency rights, being legal did not make the situation moral. For morality is more profound,  embedded in a deep sense of what, in Lumley’s words is ‘the great and good thing to do.’ So the battle for the Gurkhas was being fought not just at the level of individual rights but at this much more foundational level of what constitutes universal morality.

The second thing was the tone of the campaign. It was so different from the strident, petty, point-scoring self-righteousness which has become part of our political consciousness. Instead, courtesy, graciousness, willingness to praise those who  listened and an affirmation that the decision-makers would do right became the hallmark of the celebrity’s response. Was this a clever media strategy? Perhaps, but it demonstrated also a willingness for co-operation and trust rather than confrontation and cynicism. After the Home Secretary broke the news the contrasts in communication were huge. Opposition politicians rushed to make political capital, sneering at climbdown and ‘public embarrassment’, triumphing that the government had been dragged ‘kicking and screaming’ to make this decision. Joanna Lumley simply said thank you, and enveloped the judiciary, the government, the media and the public in a warm blanket of gratitude and praise.

If the success of this campaign simply reinforces celebrity culture or triggers more political gloating, its triumph will be tinged with failure. For it could challenge us much more deeply. It could help us glimpse a New Testament vision which puts law in the context of the demands of morality and urges us to search our consciences. It could help us to see what is meant by not bearing false witness, but speaking of opponents with fairness and truth. It could even help us see the effectiveness of St Paul’s advice: to let our communication be full of grace and seasoned with salt.  If this justice campaign brought new attitudes into our culture, it would be even greater victory for the Gurkhars

Cambridge May 2009