Adventures of an armchair activist (a reluctant radical)

For the past 20-30 years I have had the privilege of knowing some amazing people who are living out incredible, radical lives: people who have actively campaigned for social justice, human rights, disarmament, or care for our planet; people who have been criticised, vilified, and arrested for doing what is right; people who have chosen to live in deprived urban communities; people who have given of themselves to serve others, who have welcomed homeless people, ex-offenders and addicts into their homes; people who have chosen to buck the trends of our culture and live simply and sustainably, or in community.

So, surrounded by dynamic, inspiring radicals, I have tried to emulate some of this in my own small way. The principles these people stand for are all principles I want to uphold. I long for justice for all, an end to the inequalities and oppression of our culture; I long for peace and non-violent approaches to tackling divisions; I long for a world where we do not exploit the earth or its inhabitants; I long for a society where those who are most vulnerable are protected and cared for.

A reluctant radical

And yet, for all my aspirations, far too often, I seem to end up frustrated, or half-hearted in my attempts to live out my beliefs. I try to live a life of simplicity, but love my comforts too much. I try to travel sustainably, but find myself too tied to my car. I try to stand up for justice, but just don’t seem to find the time to get properly involved. I try to show compassion and care for the vulnerable, but sometimes it just seems too exhausting. I try to shop ethically, but can’t seem to get round those corporate giants. For all I may decry this injustice and exploitation, I keep coming back to the reality that I am one of the privileged elite – a well-educated, wealthy, white, able-bodied westerner. And as such I have to acknowledge that, far from bringing solutions to all of this, I, too, am part of the problem.

I suspect I’m not alone in this.

How then shall we live?

But rather than give up, thinking it is all too difficult, I thought it might be good to explore what we can do: to consider the little steps we can take that might just make a difference; to share some of the steps Lois and I have taken, and those we’ve struggled with; to commit to dipping our toes in the water just a little bit more; and to invite others, too, to share your experiences as armchair activists, or reluctant radicals.

In a world where consumerism seems to rule, where injustice is rampant, in which our planet is being ruthlessly exploited, it must be possible to live ethically.

So I will try posting a few blogs and see where that goes. And if you’d like to join in the conversation, please do add your thoughts.

April 26, 2019April 26, 2019

The father of the groom

Tomorrow my son gets married.

Joe.

My young lad who was brought us such a complex mixture of joy, laughter, frustrations, tears.
The smiling toddler who could charm the socks off anyone and drive his parents to distraction with his outrageous tantrums.
The enigmatic schoolboy who could reach dizzy heights of performance and achievement, yet waste hours playing mindless computer games.
The intrepid unicyclist who powered from one end of the country to the other.
The budding thespian who would have us all in fits of laughter with his unique blending of Shakespeare, Star Wars and Lord of the Rings…

So I, a proud and (at times) perplexed father can look back over the past 23 years with love and gratitude, and look forward to seeing how this next stage of his life pans out.

Of brides and grooms

Two and a half years ago, my daughter Esther got married. What a different experience that was. Esther, in her bubbly, outgoing, organised way, had everything in hand, had discussed all the plans with me as they unfolded, I felt engaged and involved, a part of the proceedings. The bride, quite rightly, is the centre of all attention. As her father, I had my feelings of overwhelming emotion and pride as I walked her down the aisle and ‘gave her away’. I had my moments of nostalgia and fun as I gave my speech as the father of the bride. I had my fatherly feelings of nurture and protection: would Rob really be good enough for my daughter? Would he truly love and cherish her? What joys, challenges and adventures would life send their way?

With Joe’s wedding, everything somehow feels very different. It’s not just their different personalities, but somehow Joe and Rebecca seem to have just got on with the preparations, and I, with the exception of the occasional dip into the paternal wallet, have been somewhere out of the loop.

Tomorrow, all eyes will be on Rebecca, and rightly so. She will be the one walking down the aisle, on her father’s arm, the centre of attention – a beautiful, bubbly, fiery, red-haired bride (they do say that men tend to find something of their mother in their choice of partner!). Joe, by contrast, is almost an appendage – a bit of a sideline to the main show, important, but not centre stage.

And the father of the groom?

I will have my moments of emotion. I will still feel a mixture of pride, joy, wonder (is he really good enough for her? Will they truly love and cherish each other? What joys, challenges and adventures will life send their way?) But I will do so very much off-stage, cheering them both on, wishing them every blessing in their new life together.

April 21, 2019April 22, 2019

Easter dawns with muted light

Sometimes

Easter dawns with muted light.

No bright, triumphant blaze

of resurrection power

breaks through the cold grey tomb

of our world.

It is hard to sing those resurrection hymns

while others suffer

and die their deaths

carry their crosses

to their own harsh Calvaries.

How can we sing the Lord’s song

while in a foreign land

others’ songs are silenced

Kochchicade

Negombo

Batticaloa

Colombo

Christchurch.

Where is the dove of peace

when violence reigns

what right have I

to proclaim once more

the Easter greeting

Jesus Christ is risen

He is risen indeed

Alleluia

April 4, 2019

Reflections on Retirement 9: Honourably Discharged

Six months in

Last week felt like a significant milestone for me: it marked six months from the day I retired; I (together with colleagues) completed and submitted our latest Triennial Review of Serious Case Reviews; I received my last payslip from the University of Warwick; and the University decided to award me an emeritus professorship.

A friend asked me what that meant exactly and I replied,

‘It means I can pretend to be old and wise, impress other people with my amazing credentials, and carry on doing what I love doing. More importantly, it means I can continue to access the university library. And it means the University can continue to get credit for any academic work I do without having to pay me, so a win-win situation for all.’

I thought, though, that perhaps I should look up what it really means, and this is what I found:

emeritus adj. honourably discharged from the performance of public duty [latin ē signifying completeness and merērī, to deserve]

professor n. one who professes [latin prō, publicly, fatērī, to confess]

So I am now officially (and, I trust, honourably) discharged from my former duties in the NHS and University, and free (I presume) to publicly confess whatever I like (any suggestions of what that should be will be very welcome).

So what now? Am I any different? Has my life changed either now or over the past six months?

It seems to me that retirement is more a process than an event, and more a transition than an ending.

Pretty soon after retiring, Lois and I headed off to Asia and New Zealand to spend time with her family and enjoy some laid back rest and relaxation – a retuning of sorts. Since returning to the UK in January, I have gradually been adjusting my routines, carrying on with a few ongoing commitments, taking on some new projects, and enjoying the freedom to be more flexible, focused and fulfilled.

I have enjoyed being able to choose each day what to do with the day. I have loved getting stuck into writing and research, with new and inspiring projects. I have valued having time to spend with Lois in the garden, going for walks, and some inspiring trips. And I have been privileged to accompany others on their spiritual journeys through retreats and ongoing spiritual direction.

So it is with a sense of ongoing fulfilment that I continue my journey into this new phase of life. And I shall look forward to waking up tomorrow morning and deciding what I’d most enjoy doing…

April 3, 2019

Authoritative Leadership and Relational Power

An opportunity for Theresa May and Jeremy Corbyn

A few years ago I wrote an editorial on authoritative practice in child protection. The concepts I explored in that editorial, and later developed in our 2011-14 Triennial Review of Serious Case Reviews have formed the basis of what I have striven for in my own safeguarding practice. It seems to me that these principles of authoritative leadership are what is so badly needed in today’s political storms.

At the heart of authoritative leadership are three values of authority, empathy (or compassion), and humility.

In her speech yesterday, Theresa May reached out to the leader of the opposition, Jeremy Corbyn, offering to work with him to try and find a way forward for Brexit. In doing so, I believe that she was showing the marks of a true leader, and opening an opportunity for both of them to display the kind of authoritative leadership that our country so badly needs. She has come under intense criticism for doing so, both from the media and from her own party, with her approach being condemned as a sign of weakness.

Far from being a sign of weakness, I think Theresa May has shown both courage and integrity. I hope that Jeremy Corbyn will show the same courage and integrity in response.

Authority

In my 2013 Editorial, I suggested that

‘Authority, properly understood, is not assumed or unregulated power, but something that is earned, and is dependent on the holder’s character, knowledge and skills as much as their position.’

I may not agree with everything that either Theresa May or Jeremy Corbyn say, do, or stand for, but one thing I admire in both of them is their integrity. It seems to me that they both hold strong principles and genuinely are striving to do what is best for this country and its people. They have held to these principles, even in the face of criticism from within their own party.

It seems to me that true authority arises not from unilateral, assumed or unregulated power but from relational power, and this is what is needed in our current political climate.

‘Relational power may be seen as including three elements: the ability to be actively and intentionally open to the world around us; the capacity to create ourselves out of relationships with others; and the ability to sustain internal relationships, to influence others by having first been influenced by them.’ (Mesle, CR. 2016 Relational Power, Personhood and Organizations)

Empathy

To be open and attentive to the rights and needs of those around us, to actively listen and learn from them, and to support while being prepared to challenge and not collude are marks of true leadership. This is the kind of political leadership we have seen recently in New Zealand Prime Minister, Jacinda Ardern in her response to the shootings in Christchurch.

I was challenged recently to listen more to those who are arguing in favour of Brexit, rather than remaining entrenched in my own views; to seek to understand why others take the position they do, and to see that in terms of those who see leaving the EU as a route towards greater justice. I may not agree with their conclusions, but my friends were absolutely right – I do need to look at the other side of the coin and not dismiss those views that run counter to my own.

In her speech, Theresa May described Brexit as something ‘that the British people voted for’. It may be just a small change in language, but this came as a breath of fresh air amidst the ongoing claims that Brexit represents ‘the will of the people’. By referring to leaving the EU as what the people voted for acknowledges that this was what 17 million people voted for 3 years ago, in response to what has been shown to be a flawed referendum. It leaves the door open to recognising that this may not any longer represent the will of the people. Perhaps in this, our prime minister is showing the seeds of empathy and listening.

Humility

Humility is the value that is perhaps most misunderstood and frowned on in relation to authoritative leadership, and yet I believe it is the most crucial component of such leadership.

Humility needs to be understood, not in a derogatory or self‐deprecating way, but as a positive quality that enables leaders to recognise their own limitations, to acknowledge and use their skills and strengths, and to seek to improve their leadership.

Humility recognises that none of us possesses a monopoly of knowledge and skills; that we are interdependent on each other; and that we all have weaknesses as well as strengths, so we need to be constantly seeking to learn and to grow.

So much of what I see in parliament at the moment is arrogance, entrenched positions and self-interest dominating the debates. I long to see confident humility displayed in our leaders. I believe we caught glimpses of it in Theresa May’s speech yesterday. Jeremy Corbyn has the opportunity to take the same path. And, if they come together, I believe they could find a positive way to take us forward, whatever the final outcome may be.

A second referendum?

If Theresa May and Jeremy Corbyn wanted to show real leadership, they could do far worse than seeking to ascertain what the British public want now, in 2019, with the full facts before them and clear options to choose from. It may well be that a majority would still want to leave the EU and would support a deal to achieve that. If so, the government would have a much clearer mandate to proceed. Conversely, if a majority now voted to remain, a clear reappraisal would be needed. The government has respected the outcome of the referendum by seeking to come up with a deal; true democracy should now return to the people with that deal and any alternatives. That would be authoritative leadership in action.

March 25, 2019

Holding Scorpions

A week before our recent trip to Jordan, Lois and I had been on a retreat at Mirfield in Yorkshire. The theme was meeting God in the garden. The context could hardly have been more different from our visit to the Wadi Rum wilderness. But while in Mirfield, I had been deeply moved by a Stanley Spencer painting of Christ in the Wilderness.

The Scorpion is one of a series of 18 drawings and 8 paintings completed by Spencer to give some expression to his understanding of Lent.

We didn’t encounter any scorpions during our time in Wadi Rum, but being in that place, surrounded by the untamed wilderness, it was not hard to imagine the struggles Jesus must have gone through as he faced his own demons.

I had somehow been drawn to this painting; something in it spoke to me. There was a wildness in the harsh reality of the terrain, and the sinister form of the scorpion that disturbed me. But, more than that, I was struck by the vulnerable tenderness with which Christ was holding the scorpion and seeming to gaze on it, not with horror or dread, but with sorrow and compassion.

That day in the wilderness…

Did you sit there, in stillness, holding a scorpion in the palm of your hand?

Did you wander, barefoot, among the rocks and the sand?

Confronting the harshness of the reality of life? Holding it,

tenderly;

gazing with compassion?

This creature that you had made. Why?

And God saw all that he had made, and it was good.

Poisoned. Dark.

Something to be feared.

Hunted.

Crushed.

Your eyes –

eyes of sorrow for what it has become,

for what we have made it, and

for what we fear.

Twisted.

Poised to strike.

An angel of death.

What is it that we have taken and so twisted?

Affection, affirmation, ambition?

Goodness and beauty?

Comfort?

Security?

You see, also, the scorpions in my life.

The hard shells, the poisoned barbs.

And you look with sorrow.

And compassion.

You hold us, too, in the palms of your hands.

Gazing –

Seeing beyond our hard shells.

Drawing out the goodness within.

Not afraid, not shying away.

You hold that reality.

In love.

Can I, too, hold the scorpions in my life?

Without fear, or running away?

Not denying their existence, or

shrinking back from them.

Can I confront the harsh wilderness of our world?

The evil, the suffering.

And somehow hold it

In love.

March 22, 2019

Revoke Article 50: Why I’ve changed my mind

Over the past few months I have felt uncomfortable about the idea of a second referendum on leaving the EU. While feeling passionately that the decision to leave was a flawed decision that will have profound negative consequences for our country, and particularly for the most vulnerable in our society, I was concerned that a second referendum would do little other than deepen the divisions and mistrust that have been raised by holding the referendum in the first place.

As time has gone on, however, I have become more and more convinced that a second referendum is the only way to get us out of the mess we have got ourselves into.

Now, with the deadline for leaving the EU (even with the promised extension) drawing near and the inability of our Parliament to reach any kind of consensus on the way forward, it seems to me that revisiting the democratic process and holding a second referendum could be what is needed to take us forward.

Since the referendum in 2016 (and to some extent even before that) it has become very clear that the leave campaign was built on lies and vested self-interest. The result itself was close and certainly did not represent the majority of the UK population. In particular, it is clear that it did not represent the young people of our country – the very ones who will inherit the results that we are scheduled to bring in.

The wranglings in Parliament seem to emphasise that both sides are more interested in political point scoring and their own interests than in what is good for our country and our people. There seems little hope that, even with an extension, Theresa May will be able to get agreement on a deal that will work both for us and for the EU.

While I felt that respecting the results of the referendum was appropriate in that it was a democratic process, the flaws and lies behind the campaign have made me seriously question how democratic it was. To vote on a question without having the details or any real information of what the consequences might be was deeply misleading. A decision made 3 years ago should not be binding when both circumstances, details, and opinions have changed. After all, it is part of our democratic process to hold elections at a maximum every 5 years. So, to re-canvas the opinion of the people now would not be in any way undemocratic. Parliament has respected the outcome of the first referendum in taking negotiations forward; having done so, it would now seem appropriate to go back to the people with the deal on the table, greater clarity of what it would look like and the potential impact of the options.

We now have an opportunity to make our voice heard.

Since being lodged last month, a petition, ‘Revoke article 50 and remain in the EU’, has gained well over 3,000,000 signatories. That equates to nearly 5% of the UK population, and it appears to be growing by the hour.

I have added my name to the petition and would encourage all of you who are UK residents and eligible to vote to do the same.

Sign the Petition Now

Let us value and use our democratic processes.

March 21, 2019

Child protection: challenging our beliefs

The awful events in Christchurch, New Zealand recently have highlighted, once again, how an individual’s belief systems (in that context, those of ‘white supremacy’) can have devastating effects on others’ lives; but also (as seen in the response of individuals, communities, and political and religious leaders) how they have the power to bring healing, reconciliation and change. What is equally clear is that those beliefs do not arise out of the blue, but for all of us reflect a complex web of family, societal and cultural influences.

Challenging Belief Systems and Professional Perspectives to Protect Children from Harm

Our first issue of Child Abuse Review for 2019 picks up on issues of how our beliefs (whether as parents, professionals, or as a society) impact on the safety and well-being of children and can both help or hinder our efforts to keep children safe.

We start the issue with a review and two original research papers that tackle uncomfortable issues around faith and beliefs, and their potential for harm. Between them, they highlight again how, while keeping our focus on the well-being of the child, a deeper understanding of an individual’s belief systems (even where these may differ considerably from our own) could help us in our efforts to protect children from harm.

In a deeply disturbing conceptual review, Julie Taylor and colleagues explore the vulnerability of children with albinism in sub‐Saharan Africa. As well as their inherent vulnerability as children and the impairments caused by their albinism, the authors point out how these children

‘may face a society that demonises, marginalises, stigmatises and discriminates against [them], especially in rural areas where myths abound and traditional healers are very powerful’.

The very visible difference in appearance of these children may lead to them being rejected or ostracised as their albinism may be perceived by their family and society as somehow cursed. Even more disturbingly, though, are beliefs that their body parts may somehow bring good fortune, so they may be abused, mutilated and killed to obtain such ‘good luck’ charms. This presents a very complex and concerning situation which we in the West may find difficult, if not impossible, to comprehend – one in which deep‐seated beliefs, differences in culture and society, and other socio‐economic factors all interact to create situations of vulnerability and risk.

The beliefs and abuses documented in Taylor and colleagues’ review may seem a world away from the contexts within which most of us are practising. However, even in the UK, children have been harmed and killed in situations in which beliefs in witchcraft or spirit possession have played a part. What may be far more common, though, even less well recognised, and potentially harder to address are less extreme situations of abuse and neglect linked to faith or belief. This forms the subject of an original research paper by Lisa Oakley and colleagues from the National Working Group on Child Abuse Linked to Faith or Belief and the Victoria Climbié Foundation. As Oakley and colleagues point out, such cases are not limited to extreme beliefs in witchcraft or spirit possession, but include cases of medical neglect and excessive physical punishment. Within this context, the increased focus on safeguarding within faith communities is to be welcomed. Nevertheless, in their survey, the authors identified a lack of confidence among practitioners, community groups and faith groups in how to recognise and respond to cases of child abuse linked to faith or belief.

Building on an earlier National Action Plan, Oakley and colleagues identify a need for much more research in this area, along with greater dialogue between statutory and voluntary agencies and faith communities, increased faith literacy training for frontline practitioners and the adoption of a broader definition of child abuse linked to faith and belief.

Part of this broader definition could include the issues of clerical institutional child abuse and the interaction of belief systems, power and control within the church. The harm caused by such institutional abuse is now well recognised, although there is still a long way to go in terms of how the church and society respond to harms caused in the past and safeguard against similar abuse happening now. In our next research paper, Jeff Moore and colleagues look at the experiences of 102 Irish survivors of clerical institutional child abuse and factors that have helped with their resilience. There may be much wider lessons here for how we support young people who have experienced abuse of all kinds (and perhaps particularly those who have experienced abuse linked to faith or belief) in building resilience and coping with the trauma that they have experienced.

Working with vulnerable families

Our next two research papers by Jessica Wagner and colleagues (Intergenerational transmission of domestic violence) and Karen Hanson and colleagues (Family-based recovery) address practitioner issues in working with two common situations of family vulnerability: domestic violence and substance misuse. Both, interestingly, address some of the underlying belief systems that we, as practitioners, may hold – in the words of Jessica Wagner and colleagues:

‘Preconceived ideas can lead to prejudice and consequently to discrimination; practitioners’ preconceived ideas may, even unconsciously, affect their thinking, their assessment and finally the service that they may ‘gate keep’ or offer.’ (p. 40)

Both these papers challenge us to reflect on our own beliefs and perspectives as we work with vulnerable children and families. As with the earlier papers on faith and beliefs and our final CPD paper on mothers who have their children removed, they highlight that we all – practitioners, researchers and the families who we work with – hold belief systems and perspectives that can influence how we work together to ensure the safety and well-being of children.

All the papers in this first issue of the year for Child Abuse Review are freely available to read or download. Do click on the links below to browse the issue or to read my editorial or any of the papers.