Brexit: what next? - Why Jeremy Corbyn might be our best hope

The petition calling for a second referendum now has over 3.6 million votes. Some of these have been found to be bogus - an estimated 77,000 signatories are not UK citizens - but the number remains impressive.

I signed the petition, but it was and should remain a symbolic gesture of protest. I hope that Parliament doesn't act upon it, whatever motley crew now constitutes Parliament as things fall apart. This country is a tinderbox ready to explode. Many of those who voted for Brexit voted in anger. Some might regret that vote, but some might become even angrier and more determined if what they perceive as a self-serving political elite overrides their democratic choice.

The fact that we had a referendum at all constitutes a catastrophic failure of leadership by David Cameron - a man who gambled the future of his country on party political power struggles and lost. Even if the remain campaign had won, he should still have been made to resign. He should never have called a referendum on such a monumental issue when what we needed was sound leadership by the elected representatives of the British people, not populist tyranny.

(I downloaded these two images from the Twitter feeds of a Brexiteer.)

There are many theories as to who voted for Brexit and why. There are the Bulldog Brexiteers - nationalistic, xenophobic, Islamophobic, racist and triumphant. They are nostalgic for the days of empire and war, of Queen and Country, of victory and conquest. Already there are reports of racist attacks and abuses which suggest how quickly this country could descend into fascism.

Image from The Guardian, 2014

Then there are all those who have nothing to lose. Some of them might appear to be in the same group as the Bulldog Brexiteers, but as with all revolutions, the disenfranchised masses have been coopted by the false promises of political elites - in this case, Boris Johnson, Michael Gove and Nigel Farage. As James A. Baldwin said, 'The most dangerous creation of any society is the man with nothing to lose.' (Can anybody help me with a source for this?)

Image from The Guardian, 2014

These are the children and grandchildren of two generations of people who, since the days of Margaret Thatcher, have increasingly been pushed to the margins of Britain PLC. They are betrayed by a failed education system, by the destruction of British industry and of the trade union movement, by the manipulation of the media, and by a neo-liberal ideology that has seen the gulf between Britain's richest and poorest widen into an abyss into which the country has now fallen.

The Bulldog Brexiteers and those with nothing to lose are not two distinct categories of voters, for the latter are easily seduced by the former. Disaffected, bored and marginalized young men are soft targets for radicalization - whether it be the radicalization of UKIP or the radicalization of IS. I say 'young men' deliberately, for this is an age of macho politics, and machismo is often a cover for insecurity, impotence and fear.

We are told that the referendum showed a generational divide: young people voted  to stay in, the over 65s voted to leave. This feels like a triple betrayal of the young by an older generation: we grew rich on the pickings of a housing market that excludes our children from home ownership; we benefited from free university education and are making our children pay through the nose for theirs, and now we have voted to make them captive little islanders cut off from any sense of belonging within the cultures and freedoms as well as the economic benefits of the European Union.

In fact, closer analysis reveals that economic and social factors were the crucial influences in voting trends. It was people in the poorest regions in terms of education, home ownership and employment who voted to leave. People in areas of low immigration were more likely to vote to leave than those accustomed to living in more cosmopolitan communities in areas of high immigration. Northerners and people in Wales voted to leave. (Why did nobody tell them how dependent Britain's poorer regions are on EU development funding?) Voters in the wealthy metropolitan cities of London and Bristol voted to remain. Scotland and Northern Ireland have their own powerful reasons for voting to remain.

The following images come from an article in The Times which is behind a paywall:

What about the generational divide? Young, middle class voters suffer the effects of the avarice and self-serving individualism of many in their parents' generation, including the current opinion formers in politics and the media, but many of them have parents who compensate for the shortcomings in the system by subsidizing their education and housing, by paying for them to travel and appreciate all the benefits of belonging within Europe and the wider world. They voted to remain, but so did their parents. That is not how the world looks for a youngster who grew up in the midst of social and economic disintegration, in a household experiencing generations of unemployment and the break up of traditional communities and families, far from the indifferent gaze of Theresa May in her kitten shoes, David Cameron and George Osborne in their DJs, and Tony Blair the botoxed billionaire. Many of these younger people also voted to leave, but the high turn-out of 72.2 percent still means that nearly 13 million people did not vote in this most life-changing of all elections. How could so many people neither know nor care what it might mean for them and their children?

Enter Jeremy Corbyn. He too represents a certain kind of political masculinity, formed by the values of the working class Left before the rise of gender politics. He is rightly criticized for his failure to include any significant numbers of women in his shadow cabinet, but there are  enough educated and dedicated women able to step into the breach and fill the gender gap. Murdered MP Jo Cox was not unique. She was one of a younger generation whose educational and economic privileges fed high ideals and noble visions expressed in a life of social and political service. There are many - perhaps a whole generation - like her. Corbyn can and must build a new political class by channeling the energies of such people.

Many of Corbyn's fellow MPs are staging a coup. Some of these, like Hilary Benn, are the career politicians of the Blair era. They have had the knife in his back ever since he won the leadership of the party through the support of ordinary party members, and they have been well-served by the supposedly left of centre media, notably The Guardian. Most prominent Labour MPs do not represent the people whom the Party has traditionally served. They too are employees of Britain PLC, and they helped to create the climate that made Brexit possible. They are trying to oust Corbyn because he failed to rally the party behind the remain campaign, but that is why I think he is the greatest hope for a reformed politics and a renewed society.

Unlike Michael Gove and Boris Johnson, Corbyn is not into political grandstanding, nor has he ever been part of the political status quo. He was a reluctant and late supporter of the remain campaign, and it showed - though this excellent Economist blog gives a considered analysis of the reasons for his conversion to the cause.  Since 1983, he has pursued the life of a dedicated representative of the people of Islington North who voted for him as their MP. He is loved in his constituency, and is known for putting his duty to the people he represents above the strutting and posturing of the Whitehall selfies. He is a man of decency and integrity, whose socialist vision has remained untarnished and unseduced by the careerism and corporatism of modern politics. If Corbyn was reluctant about the remain campaign, it was because he recognized the dark side of the EU - the unaccountable corporations and bureaucracies that now hold every modern democracy to ransom. Even those of us who are ardent Europeans acknowledge that this is a Union that is very far from functioning as it should. Now that a small majority of British people have voted to leave that Union, we are standing on a crumbling cliff edge, peering into the abyss. The options seem very limited. Corbyn may well be the only politician of any stature who has the credibility and the integrity to appeal to the disenfranchised masses who voted to leave, but to steer the country away from the brink.

Parliament does not have to act on the Referendum. It can reject the vote, and opt instead to work for a better, fairer European Union from within. That would be my first choice, but I fear that would leave a fatally weakened political elite in charge, this time without a mandate, in a way which would only fuel the resentment, alienation and frustration that gave the leave campaign the leading edge. Alternatively, the government could trigger Article 50 and begin the process of leaving Europe. The consequence will be a period of economic meltdown and political disarray, with potentially horrifying consequences not just for Britain but for Europe and the world. Both World Wars started in Europe, and the EU was created as a way of collectively saying "never again". It has secured the longest period of peace this recently invented and now disintegrating imaginary construct of a continent has ever known. Corbyn could I believe credibly lead a party that might unite the nation with a manifesto to remain in the EU but with a mandate for radical change.

We have glimpsed the alternative, and the world is in shock. It is not in anybody's interests for Britain to leave the EU, but nor is it in anybody's interests for Parliament to override the results of the referendum. So let the country go to the polls, and let Corbyn channel his lack of enthusiasm for the EU as it stands into a new politics of European unity. Let him work with a cross-party coalition of wise and trusted politicians to put together a truth-telling manifesto formulated around a new vision of Britain's membership of the EU, and of what the EU could be if it were a union formed around a vision of social justice, subsidiarity and solidarity. He has shown that he is a politician who listens to and represents many ordinary people far from the self-serving elites in Whitehall. That is the kind of leader we need. Of course it's a risk, but we face nothing but risk. We must measure the risks, but we must also act.

Click here to sign a vote of confidence for Jeremy Corbyn after Brexit.

There is much talk of young people wanting to remain in Europe. I end with an invitation to read my son Dylan's passionate and eloquent blog - now an elegy - about why his generation should vote to remain.

My position on abortion: setting the record straight

There are situations in life when the Christian vocation to peace is profoundly challenged by the reality of a violent and often tragic world. To pretend that one can remain entirely innocent of violence in such a world is escapist. To ask when, if ever, a Christian can engage in an intentionally violent act, is to step into a quagmire of competing and conflicting moral claims, where certainty demands too high a price by way of denial, selective engagement and responsibility, and wilful self-delusion. That is why Christianity is ultimately not about moral certainty but about forgiveness and healing, renewal and hope.

Over the last few weeks, I have found myself the target of a hostile and ill-informed online campaign regarding my views on abortion. I have ignored it, for to attempt to respond would be to degenerate to the same level as those involved.

However, I know that some people of good will might be concerned about some of the views attributed to me, if they are not  familiar with my own writings. I am posting this blog for the benefit of those people. Let me begin with the background.

Letter to the Polish Bishops:

In early April, some Polish Catholic women shared their concerns in a social networking group, about a statement from the Presidium of the Polish Bishops' Conference that had been read out in churches across Poland on Sunday, April 3rd. The statement called for nationwide support for the total prohibition of all abortion in Poland, while also calling for support for the parents of sick and disabled children and those conceived by rape. Poland already has the strictest abortion laws in Europe. There were widespread protests and demonstrations against the bishops' statement.

I suggested that we form a group to draft an open letter to the Polish bishops, the content guided by those expressing their concerns, but protecting them from becoming the target of campaigns directed against them as individuals. We agreed that the letter should not in any way align the signatories with a pro-abortion or so-called pro-choice position. The letter supports “the Church’s moral stance against abortion” and “upholds the sanctity of all human life, including the right to life of women and their unborn children.” That is its starting premise. It distinguishes between morality and legality, and it does not claim that abortion is ever a morally good or right decision. It acknowledges the “complex ethical challenges involved in any intentionally abortive act.” It does not ask the bishops to morally justify such acts, nor does it in any way align itself with the so-called “woman’s right to choose” position. It defends freedom of conscience as a right. It does not claim that abortion is a right. It expresses concerns about the possible consequences of criminalizing all abortion whatever the circumstances, and asks for dialogue between the bishops and women most affected by such laws. You can read the letter with a list of signatories here. These include people from a  range of cultures and contexts, including a number of highly respected Catholic theologians and numerous Polish signatories. There is a claim circulating that "Other than Beattie, few signatories of the letter were theologians." That is simply not true. The ninety nine signatories include sixteen theologians, many of them well known and highly respected. Other signatories include a number of medical professionals.

My Position:

I have defended the Church's consistent teaching that abortion is never a good or moral act. To argue against criminalization of an act is not to argue for the right to commit that act. I do not believe that people should be criminalized for committing adultery, but that does not mean that I regard adultery as a human right. Abortion should be a matter of profound ethical concern, and it should never be seen as an alternative to contraception. Indeed, I think this is the greatest failure of secular feminism - the social acceptance of abortion goes hand in hand with the increasing pressure on girls to be sexually available, and absolves men of any responsibility for the consequences of casual or coercive sex.

I agree with those who argue that abortion on grounds of disability is a form of eugenics. I do not believe in screening for Down's Syndrome nor indeed for any foetal condition that is compatible with viability. I refused such screening during my own pregnancies.

There is no reference to screening in the letter I signed. There is a reference to pre-natal tests to diagnose conditions which are sometimes treatable in the womb, and sometimes allow for abortion under existing Polish law. In my understanding, that applies to foetal abnormalities of such severity that they are incompatible with life. It does not refer to the wide range of disabilities and differences that form part of the human condition. There are conditions such as ectopic pregnancy and anembryonic pregnancy where there is no possibility of foetal survival, and if such a pregnancy does not spontaneously miscarry, abortion is necessary to save the mother's life. There are other conditions such as anencephaly, where the newborn child has no chance of survival. For some couples, to allow such a child to be born and to cherish it for its short life is redemptive and healing, but I question whether such a decision can ever be legally imposed on parents. Sometimes, life is unbearably tragic and neither law nor ethics can heal the wounds of living and dying. Only faith in the redeeming and merciful love of God can bring healing in such situations.

I am not pro-abortion - I am pro-life. That means trying to balance a concern for the lives of unborn children, the lives of the women and girls who bear them, and the roles and responsibilities of the men who father them. In a perfect world there would never be any conflict between a mother, a father and their unborn child. However, ours is not a perfect world, and there are intensely complex and anguished dilemmas associated with pregnancy and childbirth. The World Health Organisation estimates that around 47,000 women die every year from unsafe abortion, and many thousands more are injured. Not a single blog or tweet I've read condemning abortion has mentioned these deaths, which happen among women and girls who are the poorest of the poor. To be anti-abortion is not to be pro-life if it refuses to acknowledge the ethical challenges posed by the consequences of illegal and unsafe abortion, in contexts where pregnancy often results from rape, abuse and incest.

I’ve lived in Africa for much of my life. My deep struggle about abortion comes not from the autonomous individualistic creed of western feminists, but from the knowledge of what poor women in despair will do to avoid carrying an unwanted pregnancy to term, in situations where they often have little if any control over their own sexuality. They know full well that if they seek illegal or unsafe abortion they risk terrible injury or death through infection or blood loss, but that is still what thousands of them “choose” - as if that could ever be called “choice” in any meaningful sense of the word. They too are the silenced victims, and they are often barely more than children themselves. Until and unless we speak out for them as well as their unborn children, we cannot claim to be the voice of the voiceless. 

I have been unable to find a discussion of the challenge of maternal mortality in any official document of Catholic social teaching, despite the fact that of the 300,000 women who still die through pregnancy-related causes (including illegal abortion) every year, 99% are in the world’s poorest countries. Here are the latest facts and figures. The men who father the children of women who seek abortions never seem to come into the firing line either, nor does any of the rhetoric seem to be asking what we have to do to educate boys and men about the responsibilities of sex and pregnancy. Abortion is not simply a question of personal morality. It is a question of creating a social order in which women and the children we bear are able to grow and to flourish in truly human conditions, and that is a responsibility we all share.

I believe that the perfect Christian life is incompatible with all forms of violence, including abortion and war. I have the greatest respect for those who set an example by holding to those principles, even when the cost to themselves is very great. But the Christian life is not a life of moral perfection, far less of dutiful conformity to rules imposed by law. The Christian life is a life of failure and forgiveness, sin and grace, healing and redemption, faithfulness and trust. It is, above all, as Pope Francis reminds us, a life that puts mercy and love before judgement and condemnation, and a life that offers hope amidst the messy confusion and tragic dilemmas of the human condition.

For a brief summary of my  position on abortion, I refer to a short piece published in Reform magazine in December 2014/January 2015, which can be read at this link.

The Helplessness of God - an Advent Reflection

 The bedroom in my houseboat has french doors that open onto the water. This morning I awoke to the sound of a swan approaching in flight. The power of that sound is unmistakable, like a vast heartbeat pulsing through air. I opened my eyes to see the swan skim the water outside the doors. I wondered if that’s what Gabriel looked like when he alighted on the threshold of the Virgin’s womb. Was the annunciation nothing more than that – the beating power of feathered wings, silencing rational thought, opening her being to the coming of God?

Then the tumble of words came back. The dark ooze of something that feels too close to despair. I always regret going on Facebook at bedtime, this morning most of all.

War taints everything. It sows the seeds of violence in our souls and makes us cruel with one another. It makes us angry, and self-righteous, and arrogant. Not us. Me. It has made me all those things. I have raged and watched others rage as I read the posts and responses on Facebook. I have posted myself, in a lather of indignation. I have wondered why MPs who voted for war feel offended by angry emails and tweets, when they themselves have chosen violence as the only way to resolve a conflict. The anger goes deep and spreads wide. My soul is polluted and my thoughts corrupted with my own violent hatred of the men who make this a world where wars must be fought.

The water ripples beneath the wings of the swan, and then it is gone. The sun is rising, and all is alive with birdsong and light. I get dressed and walk along the river. I watch the geese and the ducks and the swans. I listen to the high cry of the gulls. I gaze on the lazy winding river that has been this way for thousands of years. I think of the body that drifted to our island a few weeks ago, and of all the bodies that drift on rivers of time, mourned for a while then melting into eternity. The river swallows our lives, carries them out to the ocean, dissolves them in the tides of history where only the monumental solidities of war and conquest retain their shape.

I gather kindling for the fire, cracking the sweet green sticks beneath my foot in an ancient ritual that soothes me. Long before wars for oil, long before drones and bombs, human beings did this for warmth, for light, for life.

I walk in search of silence. I walk in search of my Advent poem. Every year in Advent, I write a poem for the Christmas card. It always comes to me if I wait, patiently stirring the silence, feeling it thicken until words begin to take shape. I thought it would be the same this year, but it’s not. I stir, and the silence coagulates like clotted blood. I wait, and the words that come are bitter and ugly, full of satire and cynicism. What poem will suffice for a Christmas card at a time like this?

Last night, I went to my first carol service of the year, in Digby Stuart Chapel at the University of Roehampton where I work. I nearly didn’t go. I couldn’t bear the thought of singing Christmas carols at such a time. I thought of the obscenity of declaring war in the first week of Advent. Was this the last crucifying gesture of a secular age?

But who says Advent is a time of peace? I thought of God choosing to be born amidst the bureaucracy of an empire that sent a pregnant woman to a distant town because then as now procedures must be followed. I thought of the child born among the animals, of Herod’s tyranny and the flight of that small family into Egypt, of the tortured victim on the cross and the mother weeping on the ground.

As we sang those old familiar carols, I thought of Robert Kaggwa, our chaplain who never knew that the carol service he organised last year would be his last. He died in January. He was everywhere and nowhere last night in the candle glow of memories and music. Sue Acheson was there too in the sadness and the memories - an RSCJ sister and friend who died too young this year after a cancer diagnosis. I imagined Robert and Sue in a different, better world, watching us with a wisdom that eludes us and a peace that we long for.

I felt something timeless and deep and true beginning to melt the solid core of war. The silence stirred. I glimpsed a word. The word was ‘hope’.

This morning, walking by the river, I did not find poetry but  I found words, words that began to shift the landscape of my soul. For me silence is always a particular form of words, a particular expression of being that shapes itself in language when the clutter of everyday speech is cleared away. I dared to reach out and touch the darkness and give it names – rage, hate, resentment, helplessness. Helplessness. That’s what it is. I am helpless, and I do not want to be helpless.

All this I think as I walk by the river and listen to the gulls, my arms full of kindling and the low winter sun turning the water to silver and silk, dazzling me.

Last night, before the carol service, I went into the small Sacred Heart chapel. It’s a Puginesque jewel, lovingly restored two years ago by the Sisters of the Society of the Sacred Heart who founded the College. It is one of the few buildings to have survived a World War II bomb which destroyed much of the College. My generation easily forgets that bombs can also fall from the skies in indifferent cruelty on the cities of Britain. At the weekend, out walking with my baby grandson in Bristol, I was reminded how the iron railings on the Victorian garden walls had all been removed during the war to make weapons. The stumps are still there, mute reminders of a trauma that is increasingly remembered only as heroism and glory, for would we ever fight another war if we truly remembered the trauma?

I am reading Stan Goff’s book, Borderlines. I recommend it for those who think that there is ever any glory in war.

Last night, I sat in silence for a while in that small chapel before the carol service began in the larger chapel next door. I gazed at the tabernacle, and noticed for the first time the word ‘Jesus’ carved into the wood beneath it. I am not good at silent contemplation. I am not good at noticing things. Even in silence, I am always distracted, speaking in my head, writing, composing, rationalising, sifting, imagining.

I swing out into the silence, as one might swing out over an abyss. I swing out towards that word ‘Jesus’ beneath the tabernacle. I swing towards it in silence. I never arrive, for it recedes. I can’t grab it, squeeze it, make it offer up words of explanation and definition. It is just there, as silent and enigmatic as the tabernacle itself, gazing back at me. But it gives me a gift, a word, and the word is ‘hope’. That's the word that came back to me in the service.

That’s what is wrong with all those abandoned Advent poems I’ve been writing in my head. Not one of them speaks of hope.

As we sing the carols, I don’t think so much as feel the helplessness of the newborn child, the terror of the refugee family, the anguish of the mother at the foot of the cross. When Mary wept on the flight into Egypt, her tears fell on the ground and flowers sprung up. That’s why Lily of the Valley is sometimes called Our Lady’s Tears. If a refugee mother’s tears make flowers spring up, the borders of Europe should be covered in flowers by now.

There is hope because God is in the helplessness. That’s God’s hiding place among us. Do not be afraid, the angel said to Mary, when he arrived with the beating wings of a swan in flight. Do not be afraid. Was it her helplessness that allowed God space to become?

After the service, I am speaking to my dear friend Sister Mary Hinde. I find myself telling her about my time before the tabernacle. A small miracle happens between us. She is a modern sister, with little time for traditional devotions. But she told me that, as she waited for the vote on whether to bomb Syria in parliament the night before, she went into the small chapel in the house she shares with some other sisters, took the host out of the tabernacle and put it in a simple monstrance. She sat in front of it and tried to pray. She found herself saying to God, ‘All this is going on, and you are just there, as bread. That’s all you are for us. Bread. You don’t do anything. You’re just there. ' She paused, and I waited. 'That’s the mystery,' she said, 'And I realized it's enough. The bread is enough.'

We both wept. Bread. Hope. Maybe peace, one day. For now, the bread is mystery enough. It’s the helplessness of God with us.

Digby Stuart Chapel - angel

Syria and the Just War Tradition - A Response to Jeremy Corbyn

This weekend, we British citizens once again face the sombre and indeed terrifying prospect of our government taking us into a war with ill-defined aims, a diffuse target, no clear international mandate, and a lack of any clear strategy. The Foreign Affairs Select Committee issued a document posing a number of questions to Prime Minister David Cameron about the legality and viability of a bombing campaign against Syria and he has published his response. Both of these documents can be downloaded here.

Labour Party leader Jeremy Corbyn has expressed his opposition to going to war, and this has divided the Labour Party. The British media - including The Guardian - are reporting this in a way which reflects high degrees of prejudice against Corbyn, revealing how far the zeitgeist in this country is now infected by neo-liberalism. The Momentum Network is worth joining for those who want to support Corbyn through working for grassroots transformation of British politics and policies.

Corbyn has sent an email to Labour Party members asking for their views with regard to next week's parliamentary vote on a bombing campaign against ISIS. Here is his email and my public response. I have sent him a shorter response and a link to this blog:

__________________________________________________________________

On 27/11/2015 20:16, "Jeremy Corbyn" wrote:
 
Christina,

On Thursday David Cameron set out his case in the House of Commons for a UK bombing campaign in Syria.

We have all been horrified by the despicable attacks in Paris and are determined to see ISIS defeated.

The issue now is whether what the Prime Minister is proposing strengthens, or undermines, our national security.

I put a series of questions in response to the Prime Minister's statement, raising concerns about his case that are on the minds of many in the country. You can read my response here.

There could not be a more important matter than whether British forces are sent to war.

As early as next week, MPs could be asked to vote on extending UK bombing to Syria.

I do not believe that the Prime Minister made a convincing case that British air strikes on Syria would strengthen our national security or reduce the threat from ISIS.

When I was elected I said I wanted Labour to become a more inclusive and democratic party.

So I am writing to consult you on what you think Britain should do. Should Parliament vote to authorise the bombing of Syria?

Let me know your views, if you are able to, by the start of next week: http://www.labour.org.uk/page/s/syria-consultation

Yours,

Jeremy Corbyn MP
Leader of the Labour Party
_____________________________________________________________________

Response from Tina Beattie:

Dear Jeremy Corbyn,

I am profoundly grateful to you for this democratic exercise in consultation – thank you. I fully support your stance in opposing the proposed bombing campaign, and I agree with all the points you make in your response to the Prime Minister. Whatever your own MPs say, I think you speak for a significant minority, and perhaps the majority, of the British people.

To go to war with ISIS is in my view not to resolve the problem but to exacerbate it, because it dignifies a mob of brutal and savage murderers with a heroic veneer and it implicitly recognises ISIS as a state. Mark Juergensmeyer argues persuasively that ISIS is losing support and losing territory, and that the Paris attacks were intended to provoke a reaction from the West: 'ISIS is desperate. It needs a victory, a vivid show of force to bolster the morale of its supporters, attract new volunteers, and with luck, intimidate its foes.' American political commentator Sonali Kolhatkar comes to a similar conclusion.

While I personally believe that war is rarely if ever a solution to violence, I accept that the resort to war is sometimes legitimate under international law. As citizens we therefore have a duty to participate in debates about the legitimacy of our politicians taking our country to war, whatever our personal beliefs. In such situations, I believe that the just war criteria should be applied, as a rule of thumb against which to measure the decision to go to war and the conduct of war. While it is questionable whether war ever conforms to these criteria, they are the only enduring tradition we have for judging and containing acts of war. I have taken the following summary from the BBC website and posted my arguments in italics, though there is also a very interesting discussion on a Catholic website about American involvement in bombing Syria, on the basis of Thomas Aquinas’s just war theory:

What is a Just War?

Six conditions must be satisfied for a war to be considered just:

• The war must be for a just cause.

The elimination of ISIS (Daesh) is a just cause only if it is a clear act of self-defence and seeks to bring about a greater peace than that which prevailed before going to war. In this situation, there is a high risk that a bombing campaign will result in greater acts of terror and violence against western targets, while exacerbating the humanitarian crisis caused by growing instability in the Middle East.

• The war must be lawfully declared by a lawful authority.

The UN Security Council has not issued a clear mandate for war, nor is there evidence of support for such action in the international community.

• The intention behind the war must be good.

The intention is not and cannot be clear because of the immensely complex and fluid situation in Syria. There is no clearly defined opposition capable of governing the country, and Syria is a sovereign state with a government in power. The removal of President Assad is not in itself part of the declared intention of going to war, and indeed to make it such an intention would raise significant questions of legality and sovereignty, not to mention inflaming tensions between Russia and the West with a real risk of escalation. We should remember how, in the Iraq War of 2003, the justification of self-defence against non-existent weapons of mass destruction was blurred and the removal of Saddam Hussein was later hailed as a sign of success by Tony Blair, even though at the time of going to war he repeatedly denied to Parliament that regime change was one of the aims.

• All other ways of resolving the problem should have been tried first.

As you make clear, stopping the flow of arms and oil revenue to ISIS should be a top priority. Also, while the removal of ISIS in Syria would be a real humanitarian accomplishment, it is not clear that this would resolve the problem of acts of violence and terrorism inspired by its ideas. Several of the Paris attackers were French nationals. ISIS is as much about an idea as it is about a territorial caliphate. One does not destroy ideas with bombs but with better ideas. Every endeavour should be made to discredit IS and to provide young alienated Muslims with good reasons for supporting liberal democracy as the best form of government. To put the vast money invested in a bombing campaign into better social welfare systems and education would be a much better long-term aim with regard to restoring stability and democratic participation in western states by those increasingly marginalised and vulnerable to radicalisation because of exclusion, unemployment and poverty. At the same time, a more effective humanitarian response to the refugee crisis is vital.

• There must be a reasonable chance of success.

This is related to the intention behind going to war. What would constitute success, and what kind of time-frame are we talking about? If, as in the case of Iraq, the war resulted in failure – increasing destabilisation in the region and fuelling extremism – how would those responsible for taking Britain to war in spite of widespread opposition and doubt be held accountable? This question is particularly pointed given that we are once again being asked to support our country going to war when we are still waiting for publication of the Chilcot Report. As long as leaders like Tony Blair can, with impunity and with the support of Parliament, take Britain into devastating wars without being held accountable, the public is justified in feeling deep mistrust about the judgement of our elected politicians over such issues.

• The means used must be in proportion to the end that the war seeks to achieve.

As you point out, a bombing campaign cannot resolve the problem of ISIS without the support of ground troops. The diffusion of ISIS among the Syrian population means that there will be a very high attrition rate among ordinary people – and please let’s not use the obscene expression ‘collateral damage’. ISIS is unlikely to cluster in clearly identifiable targets for bombing. We have already seen the use of so-called ‘human shields’ in such situations, and ISIS will undoubtedly ensure that potential target areas such as Raqqa are populated by civilians, including children.

How should a Just War be fought?

A war that starts as a Just War may stop being a Just War if the means used to wage it are inappropriate.

• Innocent people and non-combatants should not be harmed.

See above. ISIS will use civilian populations to maximise the number of non-combatant deaths. There is considerable evidence that the current US bombing campaign in Iraq has resulted in many more civilian casualties than has been acknowledged by the Pentagon. If war goes ahead, you should ensure complete transparency with regard to civilian casualties, avoid the term ‘collateral damage’, and insist that the government publishes reliable estimates of the numbers killed – both combatants and civilians. Current policy does not require this, so how is it possible to hold the government accountable for civilian deaths?

• Only appropriate force should be used. This applies to both the sort of force, and how much force is used.

Targeted bombing campaigns are far less accurate than claimed. In addition to high levels of civilian deaths, they are hugely expensive, generate vast profits for the arms industry, and contribute significantly to environmental degradation. All this raises questions about how appropriate they are in terms of the use of force, particularly in view of the fact that success in eliminating ISIS is highly improbable without the supporting use of ground troops.

• Internationally agreed conventions regulating war must be obeyed.

The high risk of civilian casualties, the lack of any clearly defined territory or internationally recognised state as a target, and the use of drones for the purposes of summary execution of suspected extremists, all amount to violations of internationally agreed conventions regulating war.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, and thank you for giving a voice back to the ordinary people of this country.

Best wishes,
Tina Beattie

Tina Beattie
Professor of Catholic Studies
Director, The Digby Stuart Research Centre for Religion, Society and Human Flourishing (DSRC),
Digby Stuart College
University of Roehampton
Roehampton Lane
London SW15 5PH

Update posted on Monday, 30th November:
The Muslim Council of Great Britain has issued a statement opposing a bombing campaign.
Interviews with refugees from Raqqa (the focus of the proposed strike) show strong opposition to bombing on the basis that it would simply intensify the conflict and add to the suffering of the ordinary Syrian people.

On poppies, peace and ideology

"Poppy Selling Campaign by  Ahmadiyya Muslim Youth"

Compare these two photos and ask yourself, what would happen if the messages on the T-shirts were reversed? Why is a white schoolgirl touting herself as "Future Soldier" not a victim of radicalization, when a young Muslim of the same age wearing the same T-shirt would most probably be arrested?

"I don't wear poppies, and this image encapsulates why"

How much more must our Muslim neighbours and fellow citizens do to prove themselves worthy of our respect and solidarity in the struggle against all forms of extremism, prejudice and violence? How often must every Muslim prove that he or she is a tolerant, peace-loving, exemplary citizen to avoid being branded and blamed by his or her suspicious neighbours and our elected politicians? When will we acknowledge that the main victims of Islamist extremism have been Muslims themselves - murdered, raped, exiled, impoverished, their homes and lives destroyed by the deadly combination of Islamist extremism, western militarism and an increasingly savage response from Europe's politicians to the plight of refugees?

Violence - whether mindless or not, whether a calculated military strategy or a calculated terrorist attack - always generates more violence. It is not the preserve of any religion, nation or race, for it lurks in every human heart and finds explosive expression wherever people are persuaded that it is more reasonable to hate than to love, more noble to kill than to die, more astute to exclude than to embrace, better to become a fighter than a peacemaker, better to bring your children up as future soldiers than as pacifists. René Girard died this week. He was perhaps the wisest and most learned voice of our current age with regard to violence and its causes.

I am sorry to see these young Muslim men selling poppies, though I understand why they do. But the photograph that the British Legion tweeted in 2013 - revived by a recent blogger - should make every poppy-wearing person ask themselves what they think it signifies today, for in no way does it symbolise either the futile horror of the trenches, nor the anguished justifiability of World War II. It does not say "never again" but "war without end". If people want to keep the integrity of the red poppy as a sign of the horror and cost of war, they should rescue it from the hands of the British Legion and give it to a charity that better understands "the truth untold, The pity of war, the pity war distilled" (Wilfred Owen, Strange Meeting). Indeed, if one reads the comments provoked by that tweet, it seems that many supporters of the British Legion feel the same way.

Interpreted by Love

Yesterday, during Mass at a conference to celebrate The Tablet's 175th Anniversary, we sang the lovely hymn which resists rephrasing in inclusive language: "Dear Lord and Father of Mankind".

O Sabbath rest by Galilee!
O calm of hills above,
Where Jesus knelt to share with thee
The silence of eternity,
Interpreted by love!

These last two lines struck me as the fundamental meaning of the Christian faith, and the fundamental malaise of postmodernity. The silence of eternity underscores all that is. Do we interpret this as the empty void, or do we interpret it as the abyss of love? This was the question that I explored in my book Theology After Postmodernity, but these two lines say it all. If to be human is to interpret the world, then the essential and inescapable question is surely, how do we interpret the silence of eternity?

Abusing animals and abusing people - food for thought

Chris Hedges is a provocative and challenging writer - exciting and irritating in sometimes equal measure.  That's how I felt about his piece on 'Choosing Life', in which he argues that the breeding of animals for food has a numbing effect on our sensitivity to violence. We can even feel tenderness for the animals/people we intend to kill, despite suffering from a 'loss of empathy and compassion for other living beings'. That is why torturers are sometimes affectionate towards prisoners. Here is the gist of Hedges' argument:

A culture that kills, including for food, must create a belief system that inures people to suffering. This is the only way the slaughter of other sentient beings is possible. This numbness allows us to dehumanize Muslims in the Middle East and our own poor, unemployed, underpaid and mentally ill, as well as the more than 9 billion land animals killed for food each year in the United States and the 70 billion land animals killed for food each year across the world. If we added fish, the numbers would be in the trillions.

Predictably enough, he brings in a reference to the Nazis - which somebody told me recently was a sign of having lost an argument. 

I admit to being an omnivore and feeling some discomfort about Hedges' challenge to my eating habits. However, my main concern is the over-simplification of complex questions as to why human beings hurt and kill other creatures - human and animal - and my wariness of Hedge's utopian tendencies with regard to the moral benefits of veganism.

I do not need persuading that modern factory farming methods are barbaric - consumerism is the most voracious of idols in its appetite for unlimited supplies of the blood and flesh of tortured victims. Yet it seems to me a huge leap from acknowledging that to making a necessary connection between veganism and non-violence. I could go on at length about questions that arise with regard to the hunting and dietary traditions, and the fighting traditions, of different cultures and eras, as needing far more nuanced analysis. I could even be persuaded to make a flamboyant connection between certain unique features of neo-liberal capitalist cultures like our own, namely factory farming and the arms trade - they are both, after all, forms of mechanised butchery driven by market demands - but still, I think Hedges over-eggs his case, and meatier arguments are required.

Nevertheless, soon after reading his article I went back to Giorgio Agamben's little big book, The Open: Man and Animal - little because it's a series of short, sketchy essays, big because it's full of challenging ideas about our perceptions of what it is that separates us from the other animals with which we have so much in common. Here, for example, is a paragraph from the end of a chapter titled 'Mysterium disiunctionis':

In our culture, man has always been thought of as the articulation and conjunction of a body and a soul, of a living thing and a logos, of a natural (or animal) element and a supernatural or social or divine element. We must learn instead to think of man as what results from the incongruity of these two elements, and investigate not the metaphysical mystery of conjunction, but rather the practical and political mystery of separation. What is man, if he is always the place - and, at the same time, the result - of ceaseless divisions and caesurae? It is more urgent to work on these divisions, to ask in what way - within man - has man been separated from non-man, and the animal from the human, than it is to take positions on the great issues, on so-called human rights and values. And perhaps even the most luminous sphere of our relations with the divine depends, in some way on that darker one which separates us from the animal. (p. 16)

Boccaccio, De Mulieribus Claris, 16th Century codex, University of Pennsylvania

Passages like that enrapture me and send me back hungry for more. Yet when I returned to Agamben after reading Hedges' article, here is what I read in a chapter titled 'Poverty in the World', based on Heidegger's 'Fundamental Concepts of Metaphysics', about the animal's 'poverty in world' (Weltarmut) and 'world-forming' (weltbildend) man:

For a vivid example of captivation, which can never open itself to a world, Heidegger refers to the experiment (previously described by Uexküll) in which a bee is placed in front of a cup full of honey in a laboratory. If, once it has begun to suck, the bee's abdomen is cut away, it will continue happily to suck while the honey visibly streams out of its open abdomen. (p. 52)

I threw the book aside, too sickened to read on. I thought of Josef Mengele's experiments in Auschwitz, and the horrors of scientific curiosity that cannot tell the difference between what we can do and what we should do. I also thought of the unresolved ambiguity about Heidegger's relationship to Nazism. How many steps is it from cutting off the abdomen of a living bee in order to see what happens, to experimenting on human twins? If a person is fascinated by the former, does he or she experience a gradual numbing of the moral sensitivity that might unambiguously condemn the latter? A giant, unthinkable leap, or a series of imperceptibly small steps towards the abyss? Maybe Chris Hedges is right.

At least, reading Agamben and Hedges together further persuades me that there are certain connections we ought to be making, as science thrusts us further and further towards a radical rupture in humankind - between the wealthy post-human cyborg, and the destitute homo sacer (which is the title of Agamben's best-known work), who lacks even the rights of animals. And is that day not already upon us, as the despairing refugees of north Africa and Syria wash up on the shores of Europe, without rights or laws to protect them, without any of the basic attributes which today enable a living being to include itself among the rights-bearing creatures of God's creation? Is there a connection between our indifference as to where our food comes from, and our indifference as to what happens to our human neighbours? Food for thought.

Cynocephali (dog-headed human figures) in the Kievan Psalter, 1397

On not calling murdered children 'suicide bombers'

While the world was preoccupied with events in Paris, Boko Haram was carrying out its deadliest yet attacks in northern Nigeria, using young girls as human bombs. The western media calls these children ‘suicide bombers’. Some reports suggest that they may have been from among the schoolgirls kidnapped in April 2014.

A British judge has been widely criticised for saying that a sixteen year old girl ‘groomed’ her abusive school teacher, showing how selective we are in our moral outrage. To call those little girls suicide bombers is like calling a victim of sexual abuse a rapist, but where are the howls of protest? We seem incapable of fully acknowledging the plight of those in the Muslim world whose persecution and suffering does not directly affect us.

Muslim victims of radical extremism and western militarism alike seldom capture the attention of the media in the way that non-Muslim victims do, even though a Muslim is much more likely to be killed by a radical Islamist or an American or British drone or bomb than a non-Muslim westerner is to be killed by a Muslim. The vast majority of Muslims are either innocent bystanders or victims of this present conflict between Islamic State and the modern secular state. They are less accountable for what is being done in the name of their religion, than the citizens of Britain and America are for what has been done in our name in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and in the continuing use of drones to carry out illegal executions of those identified, rightly or wrongly, as potential terrorists. It is our taxes which pay for these wars and attacks, and it is our 'democratic' laws which encourage heavy corporate investment in an arms industry which feeds on such conflicts. Whatever our religion or nationality, we are all caught up in events far outside our control, which leave many of us feeling both impotent and guilty by association.

Early in January, Canon Alistair Macdonald-Radcliff wrote in a blog in the Catholic weekly, the Tablet, that ‘modern Islam seems to have difficulty in establishing that extremist interpretations are wrong in ways that command universal recognition’, and he suggests that extremism ‘tarnishes’ even peace-loving Muslims who fail to condemn it. A cartoon currently circulating on Facebook shows hooded members of the Ku Klux Klan alongside flag-waving members of Islamic State (ISIS), with the caption, ‘Nobody thinks these people are representative of Christians, so why do so many people think that these people are representative of Muslims?’

To expect any peaceful majority to gain ‘universal recognition’ is to fail to appreciate the pervasive power of violence to silence voices of moderation. Millions of us took to the streets in February 2003 to protest the war in Iraq, yet go to war we did, and the rest is not yet history. If our democratically elected leaders can unleash such slaughter in our name, how can we ask ordinary Muslims to take responsibility for the actions of those they never voted for or supported, simply because they appropriate the name of Islam for their cause?

That is the context in which we must speak of the Charlie Hebdo cartoons, even as we unequivocally condemn the murders of the cartoonists. If those cartoonists had been satirising ISIS, the Taliban or Al Qaeda, they might have found widespread support among Muslims who shared their revulsion. But the Muhammad cartoons violated Islam’s most revered and beloved figure, more authentically revered by those law-abiding Muslims who devoutly practise their faith than by those who use Islam as a front for murder. Charlie Hebdo’s crude images lack the slightest subtlety that would make them worthy of the name ‘satire’. They were acts of crass and shameless provocation which demanded of every French Muslim citizen more tolerance than any civilized society should ask in the name of freedom of speech. As Pope Francis has reminded us, ‘every religion has its dignity’ and there are limits to freedom of expression. The cartoons are an assault on the dignity of Islam and its followers, and there is never any justification for attacking human dignity.

I do not ask my Muslim neighbour to apologise or explain, for she and I both agree that what is done in our name is not what we would choose. Let’s avoid the sloganeering of a faux innocence, and face the truth in all its savage complexity and fragile hope. And when children are murdered, let’s call each child by name and name what has been done to her in the name of some cause she will never know or understand. To call a murdered child a suicide bomber is to violate her all over again.

 

Je ne suis pas Charlie

JE NE SUIS PAS CHARLIE. Without in any way wanting to mitigate the horror, grief and shock of the murders in Paris, I am growing weary of the disingenuity of so many in the media disclaiming the potentially violent power of the pen and the image. Public intellectuals are queuing up to  present themselves as the peaceful advocates of freedom of speech, bravely defending western values of tolerance, respect and democracy against Islamist extremists - which often seems to include all Muslims who haven't publicly and repeatedly denounced their co-religionists. (See, for example, Ian McEwan and David Aaronovitch on Newsnight last night).

The use of violence by rational, cold-blooded, educated people always begins with the pen - with an idea, with a book, with an image. Look at images of Jews in 1930s German cartoons. Look at those crude, provocative images of Muhammad and ask yourself if our 'free' societies would tolerate such images if they were anti-Semitic, sexist, homophobic or more overtly racist than they already are. Ask a French Muslim woman who would choose to wear the niqab if she could what she thinks of freedom of expression.

Writers write because they know the power of the pen. I wonder what has happened to our understanding of freedom when the power to provoke, to offend and yes, to knowingly and willfully arouse murderous rage simply through insult and provocation has become the ultimate expression of freedom. Isn't freedom more complex and dignified  than that? If one is going to die for freedom, are there not better ways of expressing what freedom is than the freedom to ridicule, mock and belittle?

David Aaronovitch said on Newsnight last night, "we want as much free speech as we can possibly get". May I suggest that he starts by offering to satirise red poppies on the BBC next November, and see how far he gets? Consider this report in The Guardian, about a Muslim who was fined £50 for burning a poppy during a protest because, said the judge,

The two-minute chanting, when others were observing a silence, followed by a burning of the symbol of remembrance was a calculated and deliberate insult to the dead and those who mourn or remember them. 

The limits of toleration are narrow and the right to insult is seriously curtailed when it comes to abusing the dominant culture's sacred symbols. The dichotomous representation of tolerant secularism versus intolerant religion blinds us to the deeply rooted intolerance and growing limitations on freedom of speech in our own societies, for in truth, this mantra is invoked most frequently with regard to the right to offend religious people - usually Muslims.

The violent killing of one human being by another is always a profound and incurable wound to our humanity, for no person is an island. But that is true of every child, woman and man butchered in the name of a cause - any cause. Until we join the dots and acknowledge the complexity of this spiraling conflict, there will be no end to the violence and the killing of innocents by and on all sides in the name of their gods - God, Allah, Yahweh, Jesus, France, Britain, America, Freedom of Speech. When an idea demands blood sacrifice, it is an idol. When it enables us to reach out to one another and ask 'who art thou?', it is a god worthy of worship.

I mourn the deaths of those defiantly brave journalists, and I mourn the further wounding of our increasingly fragile and threatened democratic freedoms. But the greatest threats to those freedoms are not a small minority of religious conservatives (and not all offended conservatives are violent extremists). The enemy which most threatens the future of our values and institutions and indeed of our very planet is a ruthless political and economic system undergirded by western militarism and the powerful corporate interests of the arms trade. Long before radical Islamism conquers the world, we will be drowning in the suffocating fog of our own polluted environment, victims of a ruthless and inhumane secularist ideology colonised by the politics of greed and exploitation. Let our intellectuals, artists and comedians satirise the real enemies of freedom, so that we might become societies that reasonable people of all religions and none might agree are worth living in - and maybe even dying to preserve.

Women's Cultures, Women's Stories

The Pontifical Council for Culture is holding its next Assembly in February 2015 on the theme of Women's Cultures: Equality and Difference. There is much to be welcomed about this initiative, not least because it seems that some of the invited participants are women who will challenge established stereotypes and raise issues not normally addressed at such gatherings. It is also further evidence that the more enlightened members of the hierarchy are slowly putting into practice Pope Francis's repeated insistence on the need to examine women's roles and contributions to the life of the Church.

As part of the preparations for the February Assembly, women have been invited to submit a photograph or a one minute video message to be considered for inclusion in the programme. However, the promotional video used to publicise this idea has caused considerable consternation. It is further evidence (if any were needed!) of just how out of touch Rome is with the realities of ordinary women's lives.

Yet whatever the obstacles and struggles, I am convinced that this is a vital year for women in the Church. Not only is there the forthcoming Assembly on Cultures of Women where at least there has been some effort - however bungled - to solicit contributions from women, but the Synod on the Family in October 2015 will be a decisive event with far-reaching consequences for Catholic women's lives. The Lineamenta, which is available to download on the Vatican website, includes a questionnaire that once again seeks to solicit a wide range of views from across the Church.

I believe that we women must take whatever opportunities are offered to us to respond to these invitations and to speak out in the hopes of being heard. We must also share our contributions and responses so that they do not disappear into an engulfing silence if we are saying what some of the men in Rome would rather not hear. With this in mind, I have started a Facebook group - 'Catholic Women Speak' - which has attracted nearly two hundred members in a few days. I have also spent a ridiculous amount of time putting together a video submission in response to the invitation from the Pontifical Council for Culture.

I trawled through my photographs from the last fifteen years, when my new vocation as a Catholic theologian began to jostle for time, space and meaning in the context of my more timeworn and familiar ways of living and loving as a daughter, a sister, a friend, a wife, a mother, and more recently a grandmother. I gathered together snapshots - all either taken by me or with me in them - which are simply a glimpse into the vast diversity of one woman's relationships, encounters and friendships. I decided to take a certain liberty with the time limit and to double it to two minutes, but even then I can offer only the most fragmented and fleeting images of women and girls I have had the privilege of knowing - some of whom are among my deepest loves, others whom I have only met briefly along the way.

There are photographs of my mother, my sisters, my mother-in-law, my daughter, my sisters-in-law, my daughters-in-law, some of my nieces, my most beloved friends and more distant acquaintances, my students, my colleagues and other theologians. There are pictures of women and girls on the margins whose lives have touched mine in different ways, and who have left an indelible imprint on how I do theology and how I understand my faith. There are married women and single women, women in religious orders, straight women and gay women, rich women and poor women, young girls whose lives are just beginning, and others whose faces bear the noble signs of growing old with grace and dignity. Some of these people have died since their photographs were taken, others struggle on against formidable odds. Many who should be there are not, simply because I ran out of time in looking for images to use.

I offer this as a different way of representing women and girls from that promotional video issued by Rome. There are most certainly some bubbly young blonde women in the Church - thank God - who could easily appear in advertisements for feminine hygiene products, shampoo or cornflakes. In this particular case, perhaps the model was chosen to represent 'feminine genius' - a term Pope Francis frequently borrows from Pope John Paul II. But we females come in many shapes and sizes, we represent many ages and stages in life, we come from many cultures and contexts, and we have many stories to tell. Our stories have not yet been listened to, acknowledged, respected and represented by the Catholic hierarchy and its carefully selected female spokeswomen and cover girls.

My video does not tell any story, but it shows the faces of women and girls who have stories to tell. I offer it as a tribute to those untold stories, and to the ways in which these people are part of my story, in great and small ways. Every photo here awakens a memory, an emotion, a desire, a prayer. I hope you enjoy sharing these faces of wisdom and beauty with me.