The Association of Child Protection Professionals: 3 months’ free membership

I have had a lot of discussions recently with professionals worried about the impact of the Covid-19 pandemic and consequent lockdown on children. It seems there are some real risks presented by the increased stresses and the enforced social isolation. Meanwhile, social workers, health professionals, police officers and teachers are all working really hard to try and support vulnerable children and families in really challenging circumstances.


So it is exciting that the Association of Child Protection Professionals is now offering 3 months’ free membership. By joining the Association you will be part of a network of practitioners and academics working to protect children and prevent the damaging effects of child abuse and neglect.


Over the years that I’ve been working in child protection, I’ve found the support of the Association to be really invaluable. And right now, they are delivering a great programme of podcasts, special interest groups, regular news and updates. And free access to the journal, Child Abuse Review, including a forthcoming special issue on abusive head trauma with a virtual conference on the 5th August.


Membership is open to practitioners and academics from all agencies and the voluntary sector, both in the UK and internationally.


If you are working in any way with vulnerable children and families, I’d really encourage you to take advantage of this.

Click here to find out more

Beyond the pandemic: a letter to my MP

I realise I have been very quiet throughout this pandemic. Partly that has been deliberate – not wanting to add my noise to all the many wise, witty, woeful and other opinions on Covid-19 and its impact. Partly it has been because I, too, have been trying to make some sense of it all. And partly it is just that I haven’t felt motivated to do so.

Anyway, today I wrote a letter to my MP, about some of the things that have been stirring in me as I look ahead to coming out of lockdown.

What do you think? Are these things we should be pushing for, and if so, how can we do so more effectively? I’d really like to hear others’ views.

Taiwo Owatemi, MP

House of Commons

Westminster

23 April 2020

Dear Taiwo

I hope you are keeping well and safe, and coping OK with all the new ways of working and additional demands placed on you by the pandemic and lockdown. Thank you for all you are doing locally to support our communities during this vulnerable time.

I have been impressed by the support that has been shown to our NHS workers and other essential workers during this time, and by the strong sense of community and caring for our neighbours that has emerged. At the same time, it seems to me that the pandemic has brought to the fore many of the inequalities in our society, and the failures of our current economic and political models to address these.

It is striking that, in response to the pandemic, the government has mobilised resources, invested in our public services, and taken on board policies that the Labour Party, the Green Party and others have been advocating for years.

As we look ahead to a time beyond the constraints of the lockdown, I am concerned that our government will focus solely on trying once again to boost our economy, falling back to old policies and ignoring the failures in these highlighted by the pandemic. We rely, therefore, on you and your fellow opposition MPs to hold the government to account and to push for better policies that will benefit all. I feel strongly that we need to be calling for these now, at an early stage before too many decisions are fixed. I would particularly encourage you to push for a change in policy in five areas:

  1. That the government continues to invest strongly in the NHS and our other public services. As a paediatrician, I have seen first-hand, the damaging effects of years of austerity on our NHS. I have been deeply concerned at the way nurses, social workers, teachers and other public service workers have been devalued. It is all very well for the government to encourage people to clap for our nurses, and to give badges to our social workers, but this will only have any meaning if it is backed up by meaningful pay-rises that persist after the immediate situation, and a sustained investment in services to turn around the impact of high case-loads and stressful working conditions. And this needs to extend to all essential public service workers: we need to move away from the denigrating terminology of ‘the unskilled workforce’ and show that we value all those who keep our country going, not just during a crisis, but on an ongoing day-to-day basis.
  2. That the government radically steps up its commitment to and investment in protecting our environment. In particular, that it should take this opportunity to adopt a green new deal. One of the unexpected benefits of the lockdown around the world has been an improvement in our environment, with cleaner air in cities, massive reductions in carbon outputs, and a recovery of some of our damaged biodiversity. It has shown what could be possible if we took the climate emergency as seriously as the Covid-19 emergency. Rather than reinvesting in environmentally-harmful big infrastructure projects such as a third Heathrow runway and HS2, in fossil fuels and industries that are heavily dependent on fossil fuels, we need our government to be investing in new green technologies and green jobs. The Conservatives were deeply inadequate in their commitments to the environment in their election manifesto; we need to call them out on this and to get them to commit to the kind of initiatives and the levels of investment that the Labour Party and others were calling for. In particular, having shown that it is possible, we should be pushing the government to commit to a net zero-carbon economy by 2030, not 2050.
  3. That the government invests in and supports local businesses and small-scale enterprises. Following the 2008 financial crash, the government bailed out the banks, which were the cause of the problem, not those who had suffered as a result of it. Since then, the Conservative government has continued to give tax breaks to big multi-national corporations and to favour the wealthy. There are big companies and wealthy billionaires already calling for bail-outs and providing persuasive arguments as to why they need those. Unlike many smaller family-run businesses, these companies have the financial resilience to weather this storm. Sadly, though, and again unlike smaller businesses, it is the big companies and the wealthy who have the power to influence government. As we come through this crisis, we need our government to give ongoing and meaningful support to those who most need it. That is the only way we will see a sustained and worthwhile improvement in our society.
  4. That the government seriously considers introducing a universal basic income. In spite of the government’s rhetoric, we have not all been in this crisis together, nor have we all been equally affected. It is the unemployed, those with unstable income, workers in the gig economy, single parents and other marginal groups who have been most affected, who don’t have the privilege of working from home, and who have not had the financial resilience to cope with several weeks or months of lockdown. It was clear, well before the Covid pandemic, that our benefits system is broken. This has been made even more obvious by the impact of the lockdown. We need to ensure that all in our country have the means of sustaining the essentials of life, including housing, food, heating and clothing, whatever individual or societal circumstances they may face, whether that is flooding, illness, disability or a loss of employment.
  5. That the government commits to a sustained and increased level of support for overseas aid and development. Given the impact of this pandemic on our economy, I am sure there will be calls to protect our own and to leave other countries to deal with their problems. This would be a disaster. Whether or not the virus takes a strong hold in the low-income countries of sub-Saharan Africa, Asia and South America, these countries will suffer far more than the wealthy West as a result of the global economic downturn. And it will be the poor in these countries who suffer most. The pandemic has demonstrated that we are a global community, and we can not afford to ignore the needs of our neighbours who do not have the same privileges we enjoy. There have been some in the Conservative Party who have called for a reduction in the 0.7% of GDP which goes to overseas aid and development. This cannot be allowed to happen. If anything, we should be increasing the proportion of our wealth which goes towards supporting those less well off than ourselves.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I hope you will be able to pick up on these points and find ways to raise them with the government.

Yours sincerely

A close up of a logo

Description automatically generated

Some further reflections on life and death

Last week our dear friend Arlene died: peacefully in her bed on a Sunday morning.

Eight years ago my wonderful wife Helen died: suddenly and unexpectedly at the airport in Manila.

Both of them had lived good and full lives, were deeply loved, and had brought a lot of love to a lot of people. Neither of them ‘deserved’ to die so soon.

I have been thinking a lot recently about life and death. And I’m very pleased to be alive. And healthy, loved, and with a meaning and purpose to my life. I am pleased to have more time in this life with Lois, with Esther and Joe, with my friends, my family, my work and all that I’m involved in. Not that I’m afraid of dying. While I have no wish to die prematurely (I still have so much I want to be and to do with this life, so many relationships I want to enjoy) or to have to suffer, and I have no desire to leave Lois, Esther, Joe or anyone else feeling bereaved, I think I can genuinely say that when the time comes, I can embrace death.

If the faith that has meant so much to me throughout my life is true, then I truly can look forward to ‘meeting my maker’ – to knowing fully, just as I am fully known; to being embraced by love itself; to being set free from the pain, the mistakes, the troubles of this world; and to experiencing resurrection – and the promised new heaven and new earth in which there is no more death or mourning or crying or pain.

In the week before she died, Helen seemed to have glimpsed something of that promise; she spoke of a deep sense of her own belovedness. And in a strange way, she seemed to sense an invitation to join in that eternal dance of recreation.

So, although the pain of losing Helen, and the grief we feel over Arlene’s death are no less because of it, it isn’t hard to picture both of them dancing together in that new creation.

And what if it is all a delusion? What if I’ve got it all wrong and there is no God, no resurrection and no new creation?

I do wonder that sometimes, and I have to accept that is a possibility: after all, I can’t prove that my faith is true.

But if that is the case, then really I have lost nothing, and gained everything anyway. Whether I die tomorrow or live another 40 years, I know that I have lived a full, fun and meaningful life. This faith has given me meaning and a purpose to my life. It has given me a focus for the gratitude and wonder that I feel: gratitude for the love I’ve known, for the many blessings that have marked my life; wonder at the beauty, truth and goodness in our world. The narrative of the Bible has provided a frame that seems to make some sense of life, provides a realistic perspective on the suffering, violence, lies and greed that trouble our world, and above all, provides a hope that this suffering isn’t the way things are meant to be, and that ultimately there will be an end to all that and an overturning of the way things are. And, for me, seeking to follow the life and teachings of Jesus has, I believe, both enriched my own life and been the motivation to seek to bless others and leave this world a better place, even if only in a tiny part.

For whatever reason, or lack of reason, I seem to have once again been granted a new lease of life, and I am really looking forward to whatever lies ahead.

So, for now, I will take each day as it comes, grateful to be alive. I will continue to grieve over the loss of those I love and over the ongoing ugliness, selfishness and violence of our world. And I will continue to appreciate beauty, goodness and truth wherever I may find it. So that, whether my life from now is short or long, I hope I shall have lived abundantly.

Getting a grip on my heart

Our bodies are amazing things. (And I’m not just talking about my ‘perfect specimen’ of a torso, although I will continue to milk that for all it’s worth). All those years studying anatomy, physiology and pathology at medical school have instilled within me a sense of wonder at how it all fits together and works so effectively day in, day out.

Until, of course, something goes wrong. But even then it is incredible how the body warns us of impending harm, compensates for any damage, and manages to heal itself, with or without the assistance of the doctors, nurses, therapists and others.

When I had my TIA in 2011, I was a bit slow off the mark, and it was only when I was in hospital and a junior doctor was taking a medical history and examining me that it slowly dawned on me that the symptoms and signs I was displaying were those of someone who had had a stroke. Fortunately, by then, I was already on the mend and so was able to fully appreciate the wonderful healing hand of nature as I gradually found my speech, and then slowly regained the sensation and movement, first in my arm and then my leg. What a wonder to discover afresh the marvel of my own hand with its opposable thumb; to regain awareness of one complete side of my body of which, during the stroke, I had been totally unaware; to be able, once again, to actually articulate the words I wanted to say…

This time round, I was more on the ball and had worked out what was going on within minutes of the onset of the first symptoms. That was shortly after 8am on Tuesday 17th December. It was a cold, crisp morning and was cycling to the station to catch a train to London. As I cycled up the hill in Allesley Park, I realised that my chest was feeling a bit tight and I needed to slow down. I’m not a fast cyclist at the best of times, but I had to drop right down to my lowest gear and crawl up the hill. The tightness eased a bit as I reached the summit and cruised down the other side, but even so I was aware throughout the day that not everything was right.

I think I had expected the symptoms to be a bit more obvious – this was just a dull, gripping ache and a very slight shortness of breath – as though I’d been running a cross country race on a cold winter’s day. But it was enough to convince me. So, having confirmed that it wasn’t just going to pass off, I booked in to see my GP.

Not that it stopped me keeping active – with the help of Esther, Rob and Joe, I was able to build our labyrinth in the run up to Christmas, and carried on with gardening and building our new terraced garden. But I did find I needed to slow down. Sweeping up leaves was the most obvious and I found that after a couple of sweeps I needed to pause to get my breath back – not a particularly good sign.

I think Lois quite appreciated the slower pace on our walks, without me steaming ahead on all the uphill bits. But the combination of daily symptoms taking longer to wear off, and being precipitated by even quite gentle exercise was enough to convince me that all was not well.

And then it all seemed to reach a tipping point. Lois and I had been leading (somewhat ironically) a well-being day for clergy on the theme of quietness and rest. That evening the chest pain came on without any exertion and seemed to stick with me, keeping me awake for most of the night. So, having concluded this was now unstable angina and not a particularly safe state of affairs in which to remain, off we went to the hospital. The junior doctors seemed a bit sceptical as I continued to look well and my ECG and cardiac enzymes were all normal, so I was actually quite pleased when a brief episode of going grey and sweaty that evening shook them up a bit.

The best bit of course was having my angiogram. It is quite a strange sensation having something moving around inside your heart, but great being able to see it all on the monitor above you. And when the radiologist injected the contrast medium and I could clearly see the blockage of my left anterior descending artery (yes, enough of my medical school anatomy was still there) my immediate reaction was ‘YES! I got the diagnosis right!’

It was good, though, to see my heart pumping merrily away with a nice restored left anterior descending artery after the stent had gone in. It is an amazing organ, the way it just keeps going so faithfully. And now, with a new lease of life, perhaps it will start behaving itself again.

Why am I (still) here?

It is a fine, crisp February morning. I am sitting at my desk, looking out on the garden at Breathing Space. Outside, a large family of long-tailed tits vies with other (blue and great) tits, robins, a chaffinch, and some gold finches for space at the many bird feeders scattered around.

A week ago, I was sitting in the assessment unit at Walsgrave Hospital with nothing like the same inspiring view.

I have now lived through two life-threatening incidents, both of which could have been fatal. Eight and a half years ago, while cycling from Land’s End to John-o-Groats, a mini-stroke caused by a carotid dissection put me in hospital with a loss of speech and paralysis of the right side of my body. Last week, it was unstable angina caused by a near-complete blockage of one of my main coronary arteries. On both occasions I have been up and about and back home within days.

So, with all that in the background, and feeling good to be alive and at home, I walked our labyrinth on Sunday. And as I did so, the question came to mind:

Why am I still here?

The obvious, pragmatic answer is because I just happen to be living in the UK in the early 21st century. As a result of which, I can enjoy all the benefits of a functioning health system, advances in medical care, and a National Health Service which, for all its struggles, continues to provide excellent health care, freely accessible to all, and delivered by competent, compassionate and caring staff. I am one of the privileged few – something I don’t ever want to take for granted.

Another, equally pragmatic, answer would be that (in spite of some rather dodgy cardiovascular genes) the healthy, active lifestyle I have led has made me resilient to these fairly major knocks to my health. While I haven’t attempted any other long-distance cycle rides, I do keep active and manage a reasonable amount of gentle exercise several times a week; I eat and drink in moderation; and I have never smoked, so perhaps I am still moderately fit. Indeed, in spite of a bit of middle-aged spread around my waist, the ECG technician last week described my torso as ‘a perfect specimen’! Admittedly, that was in the context of wanting a model on which to teach a student how to position the ECG leads, but I’m happy to accept the accolade.

But of course, neither of those answers really get to the heart of the question.

I have pondered it frequently over the past few days, and I’m not convinced there is any really meaningful answer.

It doesn’t make sense to put it in terms of merit: if, somehow, I had done something that meant I deserved to go on living, then it implies that my wife, Helen, who died unexpectedly eight years ago, somehow didn’t deserve it; and that makes no sense.

Another way of looking at it would be to conclude that God (whoever or whatever God may be) somehow ‘hasn’t finished with me yet’ or has some further purpose for me in this life. To me, that seems both theologically and psychologically suspect and doesn’t fit well with my perception of who God is. It seems to me that such a conclusion conveys a very utilitarian view of God, who only values us for what we contribute, rather than loving us for who we are. That puts a lot of pressure on me to go through the rest of my life trying to figure out what that purpose is, and living with the worry that if I don’t get it, God may suddenly decide to take my life away.

So, putting aside those philosophical/theological musings, I rather like Snoopy’s approach to the questions of life and death:

And, with that perspective, perhaps the question is not so much, ‘Why am I still alive?’ But ‘How will I live the rest of my life?’

I think, perhaps, I need another wander round our labyrinth with that…

On Earth as it is in Britain?


May development come

May democracy be done

On earth as it is in Britain…

We are now a fifth of the way through the 21st Century. And our world is changing. The certainties, hopes, and blunders of the 20th Century have been replaced by a new set of uncertainties, different longings, and our own unfolding mistakes. All of this leaves me wondering how to live as we go forward in this new decade.

I grew up in Hong Kong at the tail end of British colonialism. The empire may have gone, but we still knew, with an unshakable certainty that Britain was great, and that we, with beneficence, could grant to others the benefits of that greatness. It was an era of optimism and hope and I, in my privileged ex-pat bubble, was mostly unaware of the tensions and fractures that rocked much of the world. I caught glimpses of it through the waves of Vietnamese refugees flooding into our little colony, the poverty of many living in the crowded housing estates and shanty towns of the growing city, and the horrors of triad gangs, drugs and prostitution in Kowloon’s walled city.

The 80s and 90s ushered in the era of post-colonial aid and development. Going to university and studying, then practicing, medicine, I was all too aware that the world was not all as it should be. But we were on a wave – an awakening to the potential to change all that. Live Aid, Make Poverty History, Fair Trade, and our own missionary endeavours in South East Asia all held out the promise that we really could make a difference; that the famine, disease, child mortality and extreme poverty gripping so much of our world truly could be eradicated.

And yet…

As we moved into the new millennium it became clear that aid and development wasn’t eradicating poverty and the world’s problems. In spite of really exciting improvements in child mortality, literacy, and other key indicators, some of the cracks were showing. Too much aid and development money was tied; too much seemed to leak out of the system into the pockets of the wealthy and corrupt; and it was all too firmly under the control of the rich and powerful.

In an insightful essay in the latest edition of New Internationalist, Wolfgang Sachs writes an obituary for the age of development. And it was that which got me thinking and inspired me to write this blog.

Sachs (to whom I must also attribute the inspiration for the opening lines of the blog) points out that development, being based, still, on a capitalist view of the economy, is not sustainable. With the move to the UN sustainable development goals and the growing awareness of the climate emergency, it is clear that the situation has become one of survival for most of the world, and continued extravagance for the wealthy and middle class.

With the new millennium, we moved into an age of globalisation, with improved communications and information flow, a mushrooming global middle class (defined, incidentally, as those with an income of more than $10 per day), a greater appreciation of diversity, and a greater awareness of human rights. All of which I have embraced. And yet, with this has come increasing inequalities (both within and between countries), a greater awareness of the large numbers in our global society whose human rights are not respected, growing threats from international terrorism, and a slowly dawning realisation that as a global society we are not living within the resources of our planet. It is now clear that the golden egg of constantly-increasing GDP is simply not attainable.

So on that background, we seem to have now moved into an era of increasing nationalism, xenophobia and populism, in which looking after myself has become the dominant paradigm. Unrest in so many parts of the world, the cracks in Western democracy (highlighted so strongly in both the US and UK elections and referenda), the sinister threat of hidden surveillance by both nation states and global multi-nationals, our ongoing damage to the planet, and our unsustainable western lifestyles show that we haven’t come up with a meaningful solution to the problems of wealth, coercion and deceit.

And yet…

We do live in a world of plenty. A world in which there is beauty, truth and goodness. As Mahatma Gandhi pointed out,

‘The earth has enough for everyone’s need, but not for everyone’s greed.’

So, as we move into the 2020s, what can I do to make a difference?

I can’t change the fact that I am wealthy, privileged and powerful. As a white, educated, professional male, living in a Western, industrialised, supposedly democratic society, I am about as wealthy, privileged and powerful as it is possible to be.

I guess what I come round to is that I have to somehow live with that in solidarity with those who don’t have such wealth, privilege or power.

And that means, first, that I have to adjust my lifestyle to live more simply and sustainably; perhaps even to forego my ‘right’ to use my wealth and privilege as I see fit. And, second, to use my power and privilege, as a member of the electorate and as a professional with a voice, to speak out for justice and compassion.

I may not always get it right, but I do want to keep trying.

As a nation, we may no longer live under the delusion that we are the answer to all the world’s problems. I love Britain, but I certainly don’t think we can claim to be great anymore, and the divisions caused by Brexit suggest that we are no longer the united kingdom we once were.

Perhaps, in his famous prayer, Jesus wasn’t so much envisioning our flawed Western models of development or democracy as the way to heaven coming on earth. Perhaps he had in mind a much more inclusive, participatory and transformational vision – one that starts with individuals like us learning to live in solidarity with others, with justice and compassion?

Ground-breaking child safeguarding research freely available for a limited time

I’m pleased to announce that five of our top-cited papers from Child Abuse Review are freely available for the whole of the month of February. Do make the most of these inspiring articles on contextual safeguarding, Healthy Eating, Active Living in residential care, child sexual abuse within religious setting and peer exploitation:

Magnificat

Two thousand years ago, a young expectant mother sang a song. It was a defiant song, expressing her longing for an end to the injustices she saw around her. Her song was, at most, heard by a handful of people in a small Middle Eastern household. And yet, over the centuries, people across the world have sung her song, and even today, millions continue to draw hope and inspiration from this young girl’s song:

‘My soul magnifies the Lord,
     and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour,
for he has looked with favour on the lowliness of his servant.
    Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
    and holy is his name.
His mercy is for those who fear him
    from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
    he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
    and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
    and sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
    in remembrance of his mercy,
according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
    to Abraham and to his descendants for ever.’

Last week another young person expressed her longing for a better world, and for an end to the injustice and exploitation of our planet. This time her audience was a gathering of the leaders of nations. But was her message heard?

The two messages are not disconnected. As Pope Francis has pointed out in his message for the World Day of Peace 2020[1], peace, justice, respect and care for our neighbour, and care for creation are all inextricably linked.

Faced with the consequences of our hostility towards others, our lack of respect for our common home or our abusive exploitation of natural resources – seen only as a source of immediate profit, regardless of local communities, the common good and nature itself – we are in need of an ecological conversion. – Pope Francis

To many of us in the UK this week, it has felt as though the voices that have been calling for justice, care for creation, and respect for our neighbour have been swept aside, and the voices of the powerful and privileged have prevailed. To many, it feels as though we are living in dark times. We long for change: a change that will see the hungry filled with good things, not queuing at foodbanks; a change that will see children lifted out of poverty, ordinary people provided with homes to live in, meaningful work and a living wage; a change that will see not just isolated individuals, but governments, businesses and our institutions take seriously our responsibility to protect the fragile world in which we live; a change that will see people of every race, religion, gender and ability treated with respect and care.

In a state based on law, democracy can be an important paradigm of this process, provided it is grounded in justice and a commitment to protect the rights of every person, especially the weak and marginalized, in a constant search for truth… What is true of peace in a social context is also true in the areas of politics and the economy, since peace permeates every dimension of life in common. There can be no true peace unless we show ourselves capable of developing a more just economic system.

 – Pope Francis

For me, that is where the message of Mary rings out so powerfully, and this season of Advent bristles with hope. The voices of those who call for peace, for justice, for compassion and care of our neighbour and our world will always be small voices. So often they are stamped upon, ridiculed, vilified or simply ignored.

And yet, the message of Advent is that those voices will not be silenced:

The light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot overcome it.


[1] This is a really powerful message which is well worth reading in full – there are a lot of implications here which our government would do well to take note of. Pope’s Message for the World Day of Peace 2020