The world right now can feel like it is falling apart. Power dynamics that have existed from long before I was born are changing. Many of the institutions in which people have put their hope have weakened, collapsed, or been shown to be toothless. The political parties which have held sway for generations have lost vast amounts of support and new, radical leaders are trying to take their place.
When the Church Father Jerome heard about the sack of Rome in 410 CE, he was distraught. Rome, the greatest city in the world, the symbolic head of an empire that had ruled the known world for hundreds of years had been pillaged by an army of Visigoths. In Jerome’s eyes, “the bright light of all the world was put out, or, rather, when the Roman Empire was decapitated, and, to speak more correctly, the whole world perished in one city” (Preface to Book 1 of his Commentary on Ezekiel). He could not comprehend that Rome had collapsed and many of its people forced to flee and seek refuge throughout the empire. (Prefaces to Books 3 and 7 of his Commentary on Ezekiel).
Jerome represents a view that had become common amongst the Christians. Since they had gained a significant level of political power they had wrestled with how to understand their new role and responsibilities, and more importantly how to understand how God was working. They often arrived at a very close association between the outworking of God’s will, and the continued success and triumph of the Roman empire.
The view held by Jerome is epitomised by the Christian historian Eusebius. Eusebius argued that Constantine was God’s instrument to bring the known world to Christ. He was a conqueror who brought the Kingdom of God through military victory. (Life of Constantine Book 1 Chapters 4 and 6). There was a clear association between the Roman state and the Kingdom of God. They were inextricably linked. Eusebius interpreted the predictions in Psalm 72 and Isaiah 2:4 that wars would cease when God’s Kingdom would come as having been fulfilled in the Pax Romana, the ‘Roman peace’, an idealised understanding of the world Rome had created. (Preparation for the Gospel Book 1 Chapter 4).
These interpretations were taken up by other prominent fourth century theologians like Jerome’s mentor Ambrose. Ambrose argued that the defence of the Roman Empire was necessary for the defence of the faith and was prophesied in scripture.(Exposition of the Christian Faith Book 2 Chapter 16). Like Eusebius, he associated the peace of God with the Roman Empire, and the defence of that peace with the maintaining of God’s Kingdom. The Roman Christian poet Prudentius described the empire extending its boundaries into the heavens now that it was under a Christian emperor. (Reply to Symmachus Book 1)
In all these Christian thinkers there was an interweaving of the political and the eternal. God’s salvation plan was seen as being worked out through Roman political power, through Roman conquest. They were operating within the ancient classical view of the state, where the political institutions were at the centre of the society and were seen as the place where human flourishing was brought about.
But, if the state is seen as synonymous with the outworking of the Kingdom of God, how then does one respond when the empire’s stability crumbles, when its security seems uncertain, and the symbol of its unchanging might is sacked by an enemy army.
Another student of Ambrose was Augustine. Much of his theological reflection took place after the sack of Rome, where the widespread Christian political understanding had been severely shaken. Augustine challenged the traditional classical understanding of the role of the state and how it related to the divine. He saw in classical Roman thinkers the argument that a state was united by a shared understanding of what was right, of what was just. (The City of God Book 19 Chapter 21).
But Augustine believed this to be impossible. He understood humans to be fallen, our desires disordered, so that we would not choose what was right; we would not choose power over peace, or loving God over love of self. (The City of God Book 19 Chapter 13). In an earthly state, true justice is impossible and injustice is unavoidable.
Augustine argued that only through the transforming power of Jesus’ sacrificial, humble love could humanity’s desire be reordered so that God was our supreme concern, and we could seek and understand true justice. In light of this there were two groups of people, the Heavenly City and the Earthly City. The Heavenly City were those who were in Christ and had had their desires reordered, and the Earthly City were those who were not. The Heavenly City were defined by love of God and care for others, whilst the citizens of the Earthly City were focused on themselves and sought to dominate others. (The City of God Book 14 Chapter 4). Whilst Augustine used the word ‘City’ he was not referring to physical political entities like the Roman Empire. Augustine saw the time in which he lived as the saeculum, a period where the members of both Cities were intermingled on earth and inhabited the same social structures. Whilst we live in the saeculum, no human society can fully realise true justice, no nation or institution can be considered the embodiment of the Kingdom of God.
Augustine does not argue that political structures and engagement in legislative affairs are unimportant. Where he lived in North Africa, most of the Church was made up by a Christian group called the Donatists. They were a separatist Christian movement who wanted a clear division and segregation between the Church, the people of God, and Roman society and politics, because they believed the holiness and internal integrity of the Church was primary. Augustine disagreed. In the saeculum no such divide between the Church and society could exist. But more importantly we have moral duties to our neighbours. Politics may cause us great upset because it can sometimes lead to harm, and justice will not be perfect. But Christian participation in political rule, in seeking temporal good is something we are obligated to do. (The City of God Book 19 Chapter 6). Augustine understood the role of a Christian as to preach the Christian gospel and advocate to the state policies which reflected the Kingdom of God. If this was done it would be to the benefit of the state. This can be seen in Augustine’s engagement with the pagan former official Nectarius. Augustine sought to convince Nectarius that Christianity was better for social reconciliation than his pagan philosophy (Letter 91). The example Augustine used to demonstrate a Christian engagement with the state was not Eusebius’ Constantine, but Theodosius I’s public atonement in AD 390 for the massacre of many of his own people. This repentant figure was portrayed as the opposite of those who sought their own glory. (The City of God Book 5 Chapter 26).
In the Augustinian understanding no political party or social movement can truly save. It would be naive to believe an ideal society can be created through human effort. But this does not mean that Christian’s should not seek the common good and protect the marginalised and oppressed. Whilst we await Christ’s return, and the restoration of all things, those who follow him are called to faithful witnesses to the God and King we profess to follow.
Alex Smith is a Parliamentary Researcher and an Ambassador for Christians in Politics.
Democratic politics in Japan and the UK are entering a period of instability. Populist movements are gaining ground, established parties are losing authority, and political debate is marked by anger, resentment, and distrust toward political elites. In Japan, the ruling Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) has repeatedly faced allegations of corruption and political funding scandals, as well as controversial ties with the Unification Church, widely described as a religious cult.[1]
Yet the outcome was striking. In the February 2026 general election, the ruling LDP secured a landslide victory, winning a record two-thirds majority in the House of Representatives. Under Japan’s electoral system, however, a vote share of only around thirty percent was sufficient to produce an overwhelming parliamentary majority. Opposition parties, including centrist parties that presented themselves as moderate alternatives to the ruling party, suffered heavy defeats.
‘Sanae Takaichi’s Liberal Democratic party won two-thirds of the seats in the lower house in the Japanese election’. Photograph: Yuki Sato/AP. Source: The Guardian.
Meanwhile in the UK, confidence in the established parties is weakening as both the Conservative Party and the Labour Party are expected to face significant losses in the forthcoming local elections, while the right-wing populist party Reform UK’s national vote share could rival or surpass that of the major parties.[2]
At the global level, instability has taken an even more violent form. The recent joint airstrikes carried out by the United States and Israel against Iran exemplifies this. Geopolitical rivalry can rapidly escalate into large-scale military confrontation.
In such an atmosphere, what spreads through society is not hope but anxiety and cynicism. Another temptation emerges: accelerationism, the idea that the collapse of existing institutions should be welcomed – or hastened – to clear the ground for a new social order. Accelerationism is often accompanied by a cold political cynicism: institutions are corrupt, society is already collapsing, so why not hasten the breakdown and prepare the way for renewal? Yet this posture, while it may appear intellectually sharp or daring, serves to justify the abandonment of ethics. To surrender to such thinking is to participate in the logic of destruction; what follows is not renewal but further violence. The radical ethical command of the Gospel becomes relevant again.
It is precisely in such circumstances that the command to “love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44) acquires renewed significance. At first glance this command appears almost impossibly demanding, and it has often been reduced to a principle of personal morality. Yet biblical scholarship – most notably that of Albert Schweitzer – has long recognised that this teaching carried a far more radical meaning within a historical situation in which the end of the world, the imminent expectation of the eschaton, was understood as a concrete and pressing reality.
As Albert Schweitzer famously argued in The Quest of the Historical Jesus, the ethics of Jesus did not arise from historical optimism. Rather, they emerged within an imminent eschatological expectation. In what Schweitzer described as Jesus’s ‘consistent eschatology’, the ethics of Jesus appear not as moderate moral advice but as uncompromising ethical demands, recognising that history would not be completed through human effort. For the Matthean community, ‘enemies’ were not distant moral but referred to the concrete reality of life under Roman imperial rule – a world marked by humiliation, oppression, and persistent political tension.
In some contemporary Christian responses to political crisis, emphasis is placed on the importance of presence with others in situations of suffering and conflict. Such language rightly stresses solidarity. Yet when presence itself becomes the primary theological response, Christianity risks drifting back toward an older moral optimism. Nineteenth-century liberal theology, especially in the tradition associated with Albrecht Ritschl, portrayed Jesus primarily as a moral teacher guiding the ethical progress of history. Schweitzer’s historical scholarship famously challenged this interpretation, showing instead that the radical ethics of Jesus emerged from an imminent eschatological horizon rather than from confidence in historical progress.
What, then, might this command mean in our present political circumstances? ‘Enemies’ cannot simply be identified with particular far-right populists, the parties associated with them, or the voters who follow them. Nor should such voters be dismissed as merely foolish, ignorant, or morally inferior. The ‘enemy’ may lie elsewhere: not in particular opponents, but in the political atmosphere itself – an atmosphere in which anxiety, resentment, and the imagination of violence increasingly shape public life. In such a climate, people cease to encounter one another as persons and eroding personal encounter in public life.
In such circumstances, the danger is that political life becomes governed entirely by impersonal logics of hostility and suspicion, in which individuals are no longer encountered as persons but reduced to positions within a conflict. It is precisely within such a climate that the command to ‘love your enemies’ must be reconsidered. In this sense, this command does not mean beautifying one’s opponents, abandoning political confrontation, or staging a forced reconciliation. Rather, it calls for a refusal to be drawn into the discourses of fear and hatred that flourish in desperate circumstances. Nor does it mean forcing oneself to love those who cannot honestly be loved, or pretending that hatred or fear do not exist. It means deciding not to adopt the logic of violence, and refusing to become complicit in its atmosphere.
Consequently, love appears here not primarily as a feeling but as an ethical decision. It is not a strategy for political victory, but a form of ethical preparedness for a world that may have to begin again after collapse. From an eschatological perspective, history is not necessarily accomplished through human effort. Politics fails, institutions decay, and societies sometimes collapse; refusing to abandon ethics becomes preparation for the future. When the moment arrives in which society begins to rise again from its lowest point, what will be needed are not those who have surrendered to cynicism and destruction, but those who have refused participation in the surrounding atmosphere of violence.
In an age of collapse, the command to ‘love your enemies’ does not mean political non-resistance. Rather, it signifies a deliberate refusal to surrender to the political discourses generated by fear and hatred. Accelerationism seeks to hasten the collapse of institutions in the hope that a new order might emerge from the ruins. The ethics of the Gospel, by contrast, refuses to compete in the race toward destruction. Instead, it demands that we sustain both ethical commitment and reason for the sake of a future that is yet to come. The direction of history is never guaranteed; refusing participation in the logic of violence and sustaining ethical responsibility may be the only condition under which a renewed social order remains possible. To love one’s enemies, in this sense, is not to soften conflict but to prepare ethically for the world that may begin after the collapse of the present one.
Loving one’s enemies is not sentimental ethics.
It is a strategy for surviving an age of political collapse.
It may be the last form of hope once optimism has vanished from history.
[1] The Unification Church is a religious movement founded in South Korea by Sun Myung Moon in 1954. In Japan the organisation developed extensive links with conservative politicians during the Cold War, through networks associated with former Prime Minister Nobusuke Kishi, the grandfather of Shinzo Abe. Abe’s assassin stated that his family had been financially ruined by the church and that he believed Abe had supported the organisation through these political connections.
Masko Hayashi is a social welfare theorist and theologian specialising in welfare state theory, Christian social thought, and theological ethics in social policy. Her research focuses on the social ethics of R. H. Tawney and British Christian Socialism. Her work examines how theological concepts shape social institutions, especially the welfare state and the third sector. She has held visiting research positions at Goldsmiths, University of London and Wesley House, Cambridge, and was a recipient of a doctoral fellowship from the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science. She teaches social policy and comparative welfare state theory at Rikkyo University (Tokyo).
Life on the Breadline: Theology, Poverty and Politics in an Age of Austerity
Chris Shannahan
SCM Press, 2025, 226 pp., pbk, £26.00.
Review by Dr Joseph Forde, Honorary Research Fellow in Historical Theology, Urban Theology Union, Sheffield.
Drawing on detailed in-depth empirical fieldwork across the UK, ‘Life on the Breadline’ was as a three year (2018-2021) research project that analysed the nature, scope and impact of Christian engagement with urban poverty in the UK, set in the context of the austerity drives stemming from the 2008 financial crash. It was also the first academic, theological analysis of Christian responses to UK poverty during that period. [1] Chris Shannahan was a core project team member and the project’s lead researcher. In this book, he provides an authoritative, accessible and illuminating exposition of the theological influences that shaped the project, and that he argues have sown the seeds of an austerity-age theology of liberation. He also provides a summary of the project’s core findings.
In chapter 1, he analyses the, ‘nature, causes and impact of contemporary poverty’ (p. 4). Chapter 2 focuses on the project’s methodology; what Shannahan describes as, ‘the ‘nitty-gritty’ grounded approach to hermeneutics’ (p. 5). In chapters 3 to 6 he analyses four approaches to Christian engagement with austerity age poverty. The first, is what he calls the ‘Caring’ approach, which emphasises the Church as being a servant community, motivated by a theological vision of the common good and human flourishing as central to meeting the needs of those experiencing poverty. The second, is what he calls the more politicized ‘Campaigning and Advocacy’ approach, which he connects with God’s ‘preferential option for the poor’ and, ‘the framing of the Church as a liberative movement called to speak truth to power’ (p. 6). The third, is what he calls ‘The Self-help and Enterprise’ approach, which emphasises self-reliance and aspiration as being key motivators necessary for transcending poverty. The fourth, is what he calls the ‘Community Building’ approach, that sees the Church as ‘a companion community’ and that emphasises ‘grassroots solidarity and relational Incarnational spirituality as the building blocks for a holistic engagement’ (p. 6) with poverty and its causes. In chapters 7 and 8, he draws on the arguments he has developed to begin to shape what he calls, ‘the methodological and thematic foundations for an austerity-age theology of liberation’ (p. 6).
A key theological theme running through his analysis is that poverty is structural; hence, systemic in its origins and causes. This is in line with the way Gustavo Gutiérrez, the father of Roman Catholic liberation theology, in his seminal work of 1971:‘A Theology of Liberation’, described it as being a result of structural sin. Thus, while Shannahan acknowledges, ‘As individuals we are accountable for our actions and decisions’ (p.18), he argues we are not accountable for, ‘the structural injustice that limits our opportunities and the choices we make’ (p.18). Therefore, from his perspective, in an age of austerity, a credible theology of liberation must, ‘move beyond flawed analyses that divorce poverty from its structural roots and apolitical visions of the common good’ (p. 18). Hence, for Shannahan, poverty is political, and, for an austerity-age theology of liberation to be credible and effective, it must be a political theology, capable of speaking truth to power and of bringing about changes that address the structural causes of poverty. Shannahan sets his analysis in the period of austerity that began in the UK in June, 2010 with the austerity budget, passed by the then Chancellor of the Exchequer, George Osborne, that saw significant cuts to public expenditure, including to the funding of the Welfare State. This, and later legislation, such as the Welfare Reform Act of 2012 that brought in cuts to welfare benefits, resulted in a deepening of inequality and a consequential rise in poverty levels. From Shannahan’s perspective, ‘such policies rupture the social fabric of British society and a shared commitment to the common good’ (p. 21). Indeed, he sees poverty as, ‘an insidious form of violence that can suffocate the life out of us.’(p. 22). In the struggle to overcome and eliminate poverty, Shannahan is unambiguous in his view that each of the four theological approaches to tackling poverty which he examines, have a role to play in shaping our response to it; hence, a role ‘in the forging of a new austerity-age theology of liberation’ (p. 199). However, he is more sympathetic to the ‘Community Building’, ‘Caring’, and ‘Campaigning and Advocacy’ approaches, than he is to the ‘Self-help and Enterprise’ approach, seeing the latter as being capable of deepening, ‘inequality by addressing individual poverty without challenging the structural injustice that causes it’ (p. 120).
Shannahan’s analysis is particularly strong in the skilful way in which he handles the historical contribution that Christian theology has made to tackling and reducing poverty. In this regard, his summaries of the contributions that traditions such as Catholic Social Teaching, the Social Gospel Movement, Christian Socialism, Christian Realism (of the kind espoused by Reinhold Niebuhr and Archbishop William Temple, Ronald H. Preston and John Atherton), and, more recently, the Christians on the Left movement, are informed, accurate and relevant. Again, he is of the view that all of these traditions can and should contribute to sowing the seeds of an austerity–age theology of liberation, and offers suggestions for how this might be achieved. He also touches on the British Liberation Theology tradition developed by Revd Dr John Vincent at the Urban Theology Unit (later renamed as the Urban Theology Union) in Sheffield, though with important contributions from Professor Chris Rowland and others. I would have liked to have seen more on the contribution that urban theology has made (and can make) to the alleviation and reduction of austerity-based, urban poverty. However, this does not in any way reduce my admiration for the comprehensive way in which Shannahan’s analysis covers so much ground, in ways that are clear and apposite.
Shannahan concludes the book by identifying a number of challenges he considers are essential for developing and sustaining a ‘rigorous and contextually authentic austerity-age theology of liberation and [to] ensure its traction within and beyond the academy’ (p. 199). These cover inter alia the work of the theologian, the church, the role of charities, the need for theological reflection, the need for a more proactive and sustained commitment from all participants in poverty alleviation by engaging in the political arena and with political purpose, and a need for solidarity to become a key feature of this movement for change. Roman Catholic values that place an importance on every person’s dignity, agency and the capacity for achieving solidarity in the field of human endeavour, feature prominently, in what is a call for action. As he puts it: ‘For the sake of all whose lives have been lost to the slow systemic violence of austerity-age poverty there can be no more delay’ (p. 206).
Shannahan has produced an important book on poverty, especially poverty caused by austerity, and the consequences for those who experience it, as well as on possible ways of overcoming it. It is a book that is based on a considerable amount of qualitative and quantitative research, which has benefited from a project group methodology that has been characterised by a multi-disciplinary approach to its information gathering and analysis. I have no hesitation in recommending it to all who share an interest in poverty, its causes and consequences, and possible ways of overcoming it.
Notes
[1] ‘Life on the Breadline: Christianity, Poverty and Politics in the 21st Century City, a Report for Policymakers in the UK’, is available for download via a Google search.
Hospitality Vulnerability and Resilience. The foundation has recently launched an online course to help people of faith to engage reflectively with community work among asylum seekers, refugees, and other migrant communities. This blog reflects on some of the issues covered in the course.
Immigration, asylum seekers, and small boats continue to make the headlines. Opinion polls suggest that immigration, especially the trafficking of people across the Channel is one of the most salient issues for the electorate. No one would deny that uncontrolled immigration, and the concentration of new arrivals in particular localities leads to tensions and issues around resources ( housing, schools, health service etc.), and over integration and learning English. However, it is possible to make the case that over the last half century these have been tackled successfully and many people would argue diversity has enriched our society.
Sadly, the narrative has been fuelled by misinformation, in the right wing media, amplified by social media and populist politicians. The public has fallen for the nativist narrative. Two thirds believe immigration is rising, when there has been a substantial fall, and most overestimate the numbers of people involved. In reality Government statistics show, that of 81600 long term visas issued, asylum claimants (110.00) represent a small proportion of immigrants, and with small boat arrivals at 46,000, over half of claimants are people already here on other types of visas. Undoubtedly there are asylum claimants who have little or no valid reasons to support their claim, who are using the (dysfunctional and chaotic) asylum process as a way of extending their stay in the UK following the expiration of student or work visas. There will also be a proportion of claimants who are in reality economic migrants, although the fact that over 60% are eventually found by the Home Office to have a well grounded fear of persecution or oppression in their home country suggests the numbers are small.
The politics around the issue are toxic, and intertwined with racism, Islamophobia, English (and now Christian) nationalism and the understandable discontent of working class people in “left behind” communities. In 2024 there were violent disturbances following the murders in Southport, falsely attributed to a Muslim asylum seeker, and in 2025 there were demonstrations outside hotels where asylum seekers were being housed, generally in miserable conditions. In the summer and autumn of 2025 a campaign to fly the flag led to union jacks and St Georges flags festooning lamposts in many parts of England. Reform under the leadership of millionaire racist Nigel Farage, advocating extreme policies hinting at Powellite style repatriation of long standing legal immigrants, appeared to be polling high, especially among white working class men. The toxic narratives were further enflamed by propaganda flowing from across the Atlantic, endorsed by the White House and the plutocrat who controls the social media channel X.
The Labour government rather than standing up to the racist narratives has followed populist policies of tightening immigration control and enforcement of rules about overstaying and illegal employment. They have suspended family reunion processes and made the routes to permanent settlement and citizenship more lengthy and more difficult. Income thresholds for bringing dependents and spouses into the UK have been significantly raised. They are making slow progress at reducing immigration numbers, and closing asylum hotels, but have neither sorted out the chaotic and slow bureaucratic system in the Home Office, nor convinced the public they are achieving their aims, nor provided an effective deterrent that convinces people wishing to enter the UK to turn back. In fact the harsher regime may have reduced the number of overseas students applying to UK universities, and the number of foreign doctors, and health and care staff willing to apply for, or extend contracts, jobs in Britain. The result is an institutional crisis in Higher Education, and a staffing crisis in the NHS.
Similar issues around immigration have fostered a rise in populist and nativist political movements across Europe, and in other countries such as Australia and the Gulf states. Perhaps the most frightening example is the USA under the democratically elected neo fascist MAGA regime of Trump. For people of faith the Christian nationalist underpinnings of this abhorrent politics present a profound theological challenge.
To satisfy my own curiosity I asked Chat GPT to produce a blog by artificial intelligence about a Christian approach to asylum seekers and refugees in the UK. These bullet points summarise what it said, and I hope we can all agree with most of it.
Radical hospitality and welcome is the norm and a spiritual issue for Christians
In 2024, more than 120 million people worldwide were forcibly displaced due to conflict, famine, or persecution.
The UK receives a lot of asylum seekers: many find themselves facing new challenges: navigating a complex asylum system
They come from countries such as Afghanistan, Syria, Ukraine, South Sudan, and the Democratic Republic of Congo—places where violence and instability have made ordinary life impossible.
Thousands of refugees and asylum seekers are currently living in temporary accommodation such as hotels or hostels. These environments are often isolating, and individuals may remain in them for months or even years while waiting for decisions on their asylum claims
The UK Church has a unique opportunity to respond with practical hospitality.
Hospitality is not an optional add‑on to Christian life—it is woven into the very fabric of Scripture. Hospitality was not merely about offering food or shelter; it was about recognising the image of God in every person and creating space for them to be seen, known, and loved.
A network of Welcome Churches help in navigating the complexities of building a new life in the UK. Without community, the journey from survival to flourishing becomes even harder.
Despite the challenges, churches across the UK are stepping into this space with creativity, compassion, and courage. A recent report from Theos Think Tank highlights the “distinct and crucial role” churches play in helping refugees integrate into British society.
Some churches are becoming official “Churches of Sanctuary,” part of the wider City of Sanctuary network, which encourages congregations to stand in solidarity with those seeking refuge and to challenge injustice wherever they see it.
Christian hospitality is not simply social work. It is a spiritual discipline that shapes both the giver and the receiver.
Hospitality also disrupts fear. In a cultural climate where refugees are often portrayed as threats,
Moreover, hospitality is transformative. Many churches report that their communities have been enriched by the presence of refugees.
Personally I have been involved now for over 50 years, starting with community work and informal English classes for East African Asian refugees who arrived in East London in the early 1970s. Through the 1980s and 1990s community work included campaigns offering support and sanctuary for people threatened unjustly with deportation. In the last decade with Preston City of Sanctuary (see history document) and churches offering support and community English classes. I and most of the Christians, Muslims and people of other faiths, and none take this approach for granted.
However, faced with the current hostile environment, this feels somewhat out of date. A much graver crisis is upon us. The international toxic politics needs a political and a profoundly theological response. We must become combative, fearless and prophetic in what we say, write, and do to oppose the harsh narratives and policies that dehumanise our brothers and sisters. In the USA Christians are divided, but some are taking a stance against the heresy of Christian nationalism and even putting their bodies in the way of the armed terroism of ICE and the Federal government, in order to protect the strangers who have become their neighbours. Pope Leo is providing a significant lead in this battle and sanctuary type resistance has a long history in the USA
In the UK we may yet be able to affect the outcome and bend the arc of history towards justice by democratic means. . Krish Kandiah leads the way with many graciously but pointed Christian critiques of the right wing narratives about sanctuary seekers in various media channels.
Today we must always be aware of the dangers of fascism and racism, and should a populist and racist movement ever come to power in the UK, the Church, Christians, other people of faith, and all progressive democrats will face a profound political and theological crisis, a Kairos moment. What will we then do?
This Foundation seeks to understand the signs of the times and to look forwards by encouraging faith in the public square. It might seem paradoxical, therefore, to look backwards through anniversaries for wisdom to apply. Yet it would be arrogant for this generation to lose sight of the challenges which faced our predecessors, the risks they took and the opportunities which they seized. By reminding ourselves constantly of conditions and attitudes long ago, we can become less judgmental of the past and more creative in addressing the present and the future.
Listening to reviews of 2025, commentators inside and outside faith communities are wondering why people are so disaffected with politics, religion, the media, universities and other institutions. The William Temple Foundation has been looking throughout the year at the Church of England’s 1985 Report on ‘Faith in the City’ and we have also studied the Church’s 1945 Report, ‘Towards the Conversion of England’, in each case seeking to enhance understanding and to learn lessons for our times.
In addition to those 40th and 80th anniversaries, William Temple’s maiden speech in the House of Lords as Bishop of Manchester one hundred years ago could have been answering the question of 2025, ‘Why are people so disaffected?’ Temple’s analysis was that,
‘I think there is quite sufficient evidence to show that where you get really bitter disaffection towards the institutions of the country it is nearly always in districts where bad housing prevails. There are other causes of industrial unrest in abundance, but there is nothing which makes the settlement of industrial disputes so difficult as the embittered atmosphere due to housing conditions, which any of us with an ounce of imagination must see at once are of a kind to produce the most profound irritation and nervous fretfulness. There can be little hope of real political and social well-being becoming established in the country until we have genuinely solved this housing problem.’
The connection with industrial unrest was timely. A few months later, Temple played a significant part in finding ways forward during the 1926 General Strike. He pursued the housing question over the years and our Director of Research, Professor Chris Baker, drew attention on a panel at St Paul’s Cathedral this autumn, in partnership with the Church Urban Fund, to Temple’s views on housing in his 1942 book, Christianity and Social Order.
One of the reasons for this Foundation following William Temple’s arc across the North 100 years ago when he was Bishop of Manchester and 90 years ago when he was Archbishop of York, is that he was only the Archbishop of Canterbury from 1942 to his untimely death in 1944. While he was one of the most distinguished holders of that office in history, and served at a pivotal time, he gave much in his previous episcopal roles in the North and he also learned much.
Each of those decades was bleak in terms of politics, economics and world affairs. Yet Temple was always uplifting in far more difficult times than we are experiencing, most obviously as the middle one of the three Archbishops of Canterbury during the Second World War.
William Temple’s broadcasting stands out as a model of faith in the public square. The texts of his Christmas broadcasts can be re-read for signs of hope today, alongside the Christmas messages of our Monarchs and the Urbi et Orbi messages of successive Popes. At the end of the year in which he became Archbishop of Canterbury, in 1942, he broadcast Christmas messages first to Canada and then to all English-speaking people across the world, then broadcast a message on the last Sunday of the year reflecting on the passage from the old year to the new one. All three transcripts can be found in The Church Looks Forward, published by Macmillan in 1944, together with his broadcast in September 1942 on the National Day of Prayer called by King George VI. There was some controversy over whether it was right to pray for victory. William Temple’s way through that, also summed up his Christmas messages: ‘I suggest as a brief prayer for our country, which is also an act of dedication, “O God, make us worthy of victory”.’
Amen to that. It applies to whatever evils you think we are facing, not only the horrors of Nazism which faced Temple and the world in 1942. A country which did not create the promised ‘homes fit for heroes’ after the First World War had been called to account by Temple in 1925 and similarly he was calling for the country to be much more conscious of social justice in life after this Second World War was won. The battle in both Wars was, as Temple put it in the inter-War years, between those who believed in a Power-State and those who believed in a Welfare-State. Temple explained that it was fundamental to human flourishing that people should be able to make a contribution to the common good, to the well-being of society, to the welfare of the state.
The Ghost of Christmas Present. Illustration by John Leech, 1843.
Going back a further one hundred years before World War Two, in December 1843, Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol had Scrooge being shown by the Spirit of Christmas Present two children with Want and Ignorance on their foreheads. In his 1942 Report, Temple’s friend William Beveridge ventured that there were five Giant Evils, those two of Want and Ignorance, plus Disease, Squalor and Idleness. Decent housing, health and education are fundamental to victory over each of these evils. ‘Scrooge’ has become in common parlance a term used for those who do not understand the Christmas spirit but Dickens’ Scrooge was transformed by the revelation of Christmas Present. Reminded of his previous attempts to deflect responsibility towards prisons and workhouses, Scrooge became the epitome of a bountiful philanthropist. William Temple’s whole character was the embodiment of that spirit of generosity and redemption which Dickens had captured one hundred years before Temple’s Christmas messages as Archbishop of Canterbury. In that spirit, we could vary William Temple’s prayer as we contemplate how a year of disaffection might give way to a year of hope: O God, make us worthy of Christmas Present.
Simon Lee is Chair of the Trustees of the William Temple Foundation.
The question is hardly new: it must however be posed and reposed in every generation – not least our own, in which the Church in question appears ever more diminished, and at a moment when the concept of England is in danger of ‘capture’ by a new faction. Whether or not ‘religion’ or more precisely ‘Christianity’ is part of that takeover is a complex issue. That said, those involved are likely retain a Christian identity if not a Christian belief, and crosses are wielded in processions alongside flags. Like it or not, religion – Christianity even – is part of that package.
Faced with this conundrum, Linda’s presentation gave us 5 Ps and a B: these were parishes, presence, prayer, place, the past and beauty. I found this an intriguing way to start the conversation and will expand on two of them: prayer and place.
The first caught my imagination in so far as Linda stressed the accessibility of prayer as opposed to the disciplines of worship, whereas I had always assumed the reverse: that, at least in my youth, relatively large numbers of people went to church, but only the keen ones prayed – or so I thought. More than half a century later, churchgoing has declined markedly but given an opportunity to pray, significant numbers of people respond positively. But what should they say and to whom are they speaking? Do they do this alone or does the propensity to pray generate (unseen) communities? Either way, how should the Church respond?
With respect to place, Linda underlined the shared ecclesiologies of Northern Europe’s Protestant churches, most of which have a ‘national’ resonance as opposed to the universalism of the Catholic Church on one hand and the denominationalism of the United States on the other. I agree, but the Church of England is distinctive within this category for number of reasons. Its theology is Anglican rather than Lutheran and it has no concept of membership in the sense that this is not only understood but paid for in the Lutheran churches which – unlike the Church of England – have been virtual monopolies until relatively recently.
Even more important is the so far indissoluble link between the Church of England and the Anglican Communion. In much of the Communion, Anglicanism is not only growing fast but is conservative in both doctrine and culture, and thus, out of sympathy with significant sections of the Church of England and the society of which it is part. Put differently, it is hard to see a way forward for Living in Love and Faith while the Archbishop of Canterbury remains the assumed head of the Anglican Communion as well as the English Church. Might the Anglican Consultative Council find a positive way out of this impasse at its forthcoming meeting in Belfast (June-July 2026)? And where might it look for inspiration? To the rather more flexible Lutheran World Federation, possibly.
John Denham took a different approach, addressing the complexities of nation, nationhood and nationalism at a time of considerable sensitivity, provoked at least in part by Brexit, but even more by the arrival of significant numbers of migrants into Europe, including England. The migrant issue has proved hugely consequential: prompting new political parties all over Europe, at least some of which merit the term extremist, which have in turn promoted the kind of demonstration referred to above.
Where do/ should Anglicans stand on this matter? I was challenged to think deeply about this question when reviewing The Church, the Far Right, and the Claim to Christianity, edited by Helen Paynter and Maria Power.[1] The editors reject the notion that the ‘Christianity’ displayed by the far right is something distinct from Christianity per se, thus letting ‘real’ Christians off the hook in terms of their responsibilities for what is happening. In parenthesis, exactly the same question can be addressed to centre-right political parties vis-à-vis their more extreme alternatives. In both cases, a line must be drawn between what is and is not acceptable, but where? Even more urgent is the need – indeed the duty – for all Christians to understand better those groups in society who for a variety of reasons are attracted to populist parties. There are good grounds for being disillusioned with the mainstream.
Putting these various points together, I am minded to return to an idea that has grown in my mind over several decades of reflection about the Church of England vis-à-vis its comparators in Europe: that is to recognize – and then to build on – the advantages of a weak ‘established’ church. It is abundantly clear that strong state churches run the risk of being both excluding and exclusive. A weaker, but nonetheless, established church has different opportunities. Discerning its strengths from a distinctive past – that of a partial monopoly – it can use these imaginatively (just as Linda suggests) to welcome rather than exclude, and to encourage rather than to condemn.
Take, for example, the still evident convening power of the Church of England, which can be seen at national, regional and local level. Might this be deployed among other things to foster a better quality of conversation about ‘religion’ in English – indeed British – society. The ‘problem’ – an ill-informed and ill-mannered debate – is easy enough to identify but harder to resolve as diminishing religious practice necessarily undermines not only the knowledge but the sensitivities required to generate constructive discussion about religion in public life. At the same time, and as John Denham reminded us, growing numbers of migrants from many different parts of the world demand that such discussions happen almost on a daily basis. Anglicans can and should take a lead is speaking well about religion, both our own and that of others.
We first met Precious two years ago when she turned up to morning worship. She had recently arrived with her nine year old child from one of Britain’s former colonies. She asked for prayer that she might be able to find additional care work with a better employer, and a school place.. The vicar and I arranged to meet up with her during the week to find out more and to see how the church could help. Thus began a long relationship, involving advice, advocacy, prayer and practical help for two fellow Christians trapped in a desperate situation, and a steep learning curve about a great social injustice.
The care crisis
As a church with an ageing demographic we were familiar with the local adult care system as church and family members needed help from home carers, or places in care homes, some of which were visited by our ministers and congregations, especially to sing carols at Christmas. Some of our working age members worked in the NHS or in social care. Some of us had anxieties as to whether we would be cared for well when the time came, and whether we would need to pay for our own care out of savings or by selling our house.
The older population in England is getting larger. In the last 40 years, the number of people aged 50 and over has increased by over 6.8 million (a 47% increase), and the number aged 65 and over has increased by over 3.5 million (a 52% increase).
The number of people aged 65-79 is predicted to increase by nearly a third (30%) to over 10 million in the next 40 years, while the number of people aged 80 and over – the fastest growing segment of the population – is set to more than double to over 6 million.
Post pandemic there was a crisis in recruitment of staff in the social care sector documented in a 2023 Health Foundation report. In order to meet the labour shortage in 2022 the UK government introduced the health and care worker visa scheme and promoted recruitment of overseas nationals. The visas were dependent on finding an employer who would offer sponsorship for particular posts in the sector. Care homes and care recruitment agencies were able to register rapidly as sponsors, and to advertise job opportunities across the globe, and made attractive promises about working conditions, salaries and help with housing. Visas issued for health and care workers and their families peaked at 348,000 in 2023, falling to 111,000 in 2024. Precious arrived in our city in 2023, having borrowed around £15,000 to finance what she hoped was a new start and a more prosperous life in the UK.
No Recourse to Public Funds
One of the key elements of this scheme is that care workers recruited under sponsorship have minimal rights. They are only allowed to work for their sponsor, other than that they may take 20 hours a week in a second job in a similar role. Of course they pay income tax and National Insurance contributions on any earnings.They have no recourse to public funds, meaning they can claim no benefits if sick or laid off, and have no rights to apply for social housing or other housing assistance. Women who are single and destitute are particularly vulnerable to sexual exploitation.
They can access the NHS for medical care, and dependent children can go to school (if they can find a place) but not receive free school meals or child benefit. However, changes made in 2024 prevent new applicants from bringing dependents into the UK.
For Precious, who arrived with her child before the ban on dependents came into force, this meant she had to accept a low quality rented room in a shared house (HMO) where no child should be allowed to live. It meant accepting a primary school place three miles from home, incurring travel costs of £12 a day, and persuading the school to offer free meals from its own discretionary budget. Working any long shifts at unsocial hours meant child care costs, which she could not afford to cover, therefore leaving a child alone at home or with risky informal free care from friends and neighbours. Worse still one icy January morning she slipped, fell and broke her wrist. For several months she was unable to work, with no rights to any sick pay or other benefits. They only survived because of very generous financial help, pulled together through the local church and their wider Christian network.
The Crooked companies
The system is made far worse because of extensive corruption and brutal exploitation among many of the employing companies. Charging large fees for arranging the sponsorship visa is commonplace; we have heard of rates between £12,000 and £28,000 being asked, many times the official fee of £304 per person. Many of the sponsoring companies are no more than employment agencies providing temporary and occasional cover staff to care homes, or bad employers offering “gig economy” work in the poorly regulated home care industries. We know of agencies that offer shifts to students and migrants with no legal right to work on a cash in hand basis at rates below the minimum wage. Some of these companies lack secure long term contracts with local authorities, meaning they fail to offer full time work to their employees. In the worst cases they provide false monthly pay slips to show HMRC and the Home Office that full time hours have been worked, and make deductions for tax and National insurance at commensurate rates. There are sometimes further deductions for uniforms, transport costs, and to repay loans.
Precious fell victim to one of the worst of these companies. Her pay slip always showed she had worked 40 hours a week for a gross monthly salary of £2000. Most weeks she was offered no more than a couple of shifts via a second company, at unsocial hours, in another town nearly 20 miles away, requiring a long bus, or expensive taxi journey. Several times she and colleagues were (illegally) offered alternative work packing frozen food in a warehouse. Whatever she actually earned, and after her accident it was nothing, the employer demanded payment of the income tax and NI contribution based on her false payslip. Eventually HMRC became suspicious and sent a team of investigators to interview the employer and some of the workers. They were blackmailed into telling lies to match the employer’s story, because of their vulnerability and fear. The terms of the sponsorship visa state that if they cease to work for the original employer they have only 60 days to find an alternative sponsor, after which their visa is revoked and they become liable to removal from the UK.
Exploitation, slavery and vulnerability
From 2023 onwards there has been growing awareness and campaigning about the failings of the scheme spearheaded by the trade union Unison. Government action was set in the context of populist demands to greatly reduce immigration numbers., so in May 2025 government announced an end to the scheme. With growing concern about exploitation verging on slavery, and law breaking 470 companies had their licenses removed and 39,000 workers were left without an employer. Precious and many of her colleagues were among this number, left in limbo and desperately seeking new employers. Suitable jobs remain hard to find, especially ones with family friendly hours and decent working conditions. Most employers still charge huge fees for new sponsorships, despite this being against the new regulations. The government has set up an agency to help find care jobs for these unemployed people, but it has had limited success, and amounts to little more than distributing regional lists of employers who still have a sponsorship licence.
At the present time Precious remains jobless and destitute, despite making hundreds of job applications online and visiting many local care homes to ask about vacancies. Last month she was offered a part time job by a local care home as a housekeeper, rather than a care assistant. When the employer checked her right to work with the Home Office they were informed that she had no right to work in this particular role, and had to withdraw the offer.
What would Amos say?..
The whole sorry story illustrates how far the UK has moved away from William Temple’s conception of the post war welfare state. The failure of social care policy in the face of growing need for support of older people, and the exploitation of low paid overseas labour with limited rights has made us into a care-less society. A faith based approach from within the Christian, or other traditions would surely demand something better. The prophet Amos (5; 10-15) still speaks to this situation today.
What can be done?
In the light of these experiences churches and community groups need to be on the lookout for people who are trapped in similar situations. We need to offer emotional, spiritual and in many cases costly financial support and advocacy and signposting to statutory and voluntary organisations who can help. We need to join campaigns such as those organised by trade unions to lobby for workers rights. If we know of, or have suspicions about, care homes and employment agencies that treat their overseas workers badly, we should not be afraid of asking challenging questions directly. We can write to MP’s and Council Leaders, who commission adult social care services, to raise these issues with stories and other evidence.
The government needs to hear and admit that the care worker scheme was ill thought out, and open to corruption and abuse, as well as being mean and unfair to overseas workers. The Labour government has made some progress in investigating and enforcing corrupt practices of “employers”, but still needs to be more vigorous and effective in enforcing the regulations. Finally we should call on the government to offer help to workers who have had their sponsorships revoked and face destitution, by offering them benefits (Universal Credit) for up to six months. Job centres should then provide more serious help, such as a work coach who would match workers with local vacancies in the care sector, ensure this was secured with a proper contract of employment with no hidden fees. A few simple steps would put an end to this scandal and abuse of workers rights.
Greg Smith is a Research Fellow of the William Temple Foundation. He has worked for over forty years in urban mission, community development and social research in London and Preston. He has published extensively on religion in the inner city, faith involvement in urban regeneration, and urban theology. See more on Greg’s work and publications.
A response to the launch of “Towards the Conversion of the Church of England by the Rest of England”
As necessitated by its name, a lot of the discussion surrounding the William Temple Foundation’s “Towards the Conversion of the Church of England” project has been focused on the difficult position the Church of England is in. Falling congregation sizes, internal debates, impending national irrelevance if the Church does not act soon. The Church faces imminent threats to its survival.
However, in recent months we have also seen a degree of hope emerge about the Church’s future. The Bible Society’s infamous “Quiet Revival” report showed a growth in Church attendance, albeit not yet for the Anglican Church. As Professor Linda Woodhead referenced in her reflections on the project, many people are becoming more open to spirituality in England. In these changing times, and with a new Archbishop, the Church needs to look to the future with initiative and action. Yet the question remains: what action does the Church of England, in all its diversity, need to take?
Professor Woodhead, in her response on the “Towards the Conversion of the Church of England” series, rightly cited the importance of parishes in the future of the Church of England, as well as the fact that there is no one-size-fits-all solution due to the varied and multifaceted nature of each congregation. Local parishes best know how they can serve their own communities, in ways that the national Church couldn’t imagine. If we want to see a Church of England that is thriving, perhaps we need to let local parishes do more of the talking.
In my own reflection on “Towards the Conversion of the Church of England”, I have found myself turning to the Letter to Diognetus – an ancient depiction of the early Church. The writer describes Christians as not being
“distinguished from other men by country, language, nor by the customs which they observe. They do not inhabit cities of their own, use a particular way of speaking, nor lead a life marked out by any curiosity… Instead, they inhabit both Greek and barbarian cities, however things have fallen to each of them. And it is while following the customs of the natives in clothing, food, and the rest of ordinary life that they display to us their wonderful and admittedly striking way of life.”
The early Church of the New Testament existed in their own communities, testifying to their own faith through actions and service. They were distinct, set apart, in their lifestyles. The writer goes on to reproach against Christian complacency:
“The soul is dispersed through all the parts of the body, and Christians are scattered through all the cities of the world. The soul lives in the body, yet is not of the body; Christians live in the world, yet are not of the world.”
It seems that the Church of England has forgotten its missional call to be set apart, and in doing so has become a cultural chameleon, blending in to the backdrop of modern society. As the national Church, intricately entwined with the state, complacency is an easy trap for the Church of England to fall into. Yet its established role within institutions of government also affords the Church one of its greatest opportunities. In the reflections he shared at the book launch for “Towards the Conversion of the Church of England”, John Denham discussed the role the Church can play nationally in shaping the values and direction of our country. The beautiful dichotomy of the Anglican Church, he reflected, is that it is parochial, but it is also national. It can be invested in local communities whilst also playing an important role in providing firm guidance and hope during a period of deep political turmoil.
But crucially, that would require the Church of England to become much more purpose driven. In recent years, the Church seems to have lost its distinctiveness. This is an argument that has been popularly made by the historian Tom Holland, who has frequently argued that the Church needs to be “weird” again. The Bible Society’s “Quiet Revival” report found that growth was seen mostly in Pentecostal and Roman Catholic churches. Whilst they are two drastically different traditions, they are both united by passion and drama. They unashamedly believe in mystery and spirituality, something beyond the physical world.
We are standing at a pivotal time for our country. In our postmodern society, we have deconstructed value and truth down to a meaningless oblivion. The result, as we are seeing up and down the country through the so called “Quiet Revival”, is a country that is crying out for purpose. This is the moment the Church needs to step up and embrace its strength as a purveyor of guidance. The Church needs to remember its purpose: to serve the world and share the good news of the gospel, and to not be ashamed of what it believes.
As I think about the future of the Church of England, I’m reminded of a Church I’ve recently visited in South London. Balancing two markedly different Church services and congregations, the Church has managed to grow and serve its local community. The first service is a more traditional, “high Church” Anglican service, featuring liturgy, robes and processing the Bible. But if you were to return a few hours later, you would find the same vicar and same sermon, but a much “lower” Church affair – charismatic worship and, dare I say, a few ripped jeans. Both services are thriving, and congregations mix in house groups and church events, as well as through serving the needs of the community together. Perhaps this can be a source of hope for the future of the Church of England, in all its variety and diversity. Many parts, united into one body by shared purpose. Living distinct lives that share God’s love with their communities.
By Abigail King, journalist and Parliamentary Assistant in the House of Lords.
It is with great pleasure that the William Temple Foundation announces the appointment of Victoria Paynter as its new Communications Officer.
Victoria will be joining the team in a freelance capacity and will strive to amplify the great work of the Foundation. In her role, she will strengthen the Foundation’s public profile across a variety of platforms and promote the valuable contributions of its fellows and partners.
A recent Politics graduate of the University of Edinburgh, Victoria brings her experience in communications through her voluntary work with the Centre for the Study of Bible and Violence and Just Love Edinburgh. She has a strong interest in the socio-political role of the Church and the valuable contributions of faith communities to the public square. With good synchronicity to her new role with the Foundation, Victoria will also shortly commence work for a Christian peer in the House of Lords as a graduate on the CARE Leadership Programme.
Speaking about her appointment, Victoria says, ‘The William Temple Foundation has a rich history of developing and promoting faith contributions to public life. I am delighted to have the opportunity to build on that legacy by helping to platform the Foundation’s scholarship and insights, and foster greater dialogue between its audience and contributors.’
Professor Chris Baker, Director of Research for the Foundation responds, ‘We are thrilled that Victoria is joining the Foundation in this important role. She will bring a lot of fresh thinking and approach as to how the Foundation continues to position itself in a rapidly changing political and belief landscape and communicates its core message – especially to the leaders and opinion formers of the future.’
In 2022, the William Temple Foundation has marked the 80th anniversaries of William Temple’s Christianity & Social Order and of the famous Report by his friend, William Beveridge, which is often credited with responsibility for the foundation of the Welfare State. We held conferences in partnerships at Canterbury Cathedral, Balliol College, Oxford, and Blackburn Cathedral, all places which had a link to William Temple’s life.
We heard from some of the most distinguished theologians and historians, convening gatherings of diverse voices, including those critical of Temple or Beveridge or of the Welfare State. We have more to do in 2023 and beyond to ensure that our panels are more evenly balanced, for instance by gender, but we have made progress for instance in listening to a range of perspectives from younger participants in contemporary debates.
For the most part, there was a recognition that the ideas of Temple and Beveridge, together with those of another college friend of theirs, R H Tawney, were influential and progressive. They were prophetic in and during two world wars, which makes their examples relevant to society amidst various crises today.
More detailed lessons from different speakers either have been published already or will be in 2023 but I would like to round off the year with a few points from my remarks at the end of the Blackburn Cathedral symposium on 15th December.
First, that setting was chosen partly because William Temple as Bishop of Manchester had the wisdom and humility almost one hundred years ago to give up part of that big diocese to create a new diocese. Its surrounding communities have become increasingly Muslim which also made it an appropriate setting to consider how we might adapt Temple’s pioneering work in Jewish-Christian partnerships to encompass the widest possible range of faiths and beliefs. Personally, I love the nominative determinism of Temple’s surname and believe that our Foundation can reach out to, and learn from, all those who have their own temples, or places of worship, whatever their particular faiths or beliefs.
Second, there was a disagreement about whether the welfare state is working as Temple and Beveridge envisaged. It is worth pointing out that Beveridge disliked the term and called his proposals instead a ‘security plan’ but the expression used by Temple proved more popular, often without an appreciation of the context in which he coined ‘welfare-state’ in the 1920s, which was as a contrast to ‘power-state’. It is timely at the end of 2022, the year in which President Putin launched his war against Ukraine, to bear in mind that security is important both for nations and for all their citizens, and that our preference is for a state which focuses on the well-being or welfare of its citizens, the ‘common good’. Within such a state, there will be plenty of scope for intermediate groups, called voluntary associations in another report by Beveridge, to play their part in the flourishing of all individuals and communities, but there is a role for the state itself in safeguarding everyone.
Third, our Foundation is a small example of these intermediate institutions, such as cathedrals, other places of worship, colleges and other places of study, academic research centres, grassroots community organisations, and diverse charities. We value working in partnerships with other such institutions, which has been a feature of our year. All these ‘little platoons’, as Edmund Burke dubbed them, have a role to play in creating and curating what one of our research fellows, Dr Matthew Barber-Rowell, calls Spaces of Hope. This is why I am so interested in what the ethos was of Balliol College, Oxford, as the nineteenth century ended and the twentieth began, when Temple, Beveridge and their friend R H Tawney were all students there. Of course, different institutions will have different values, the same institution might change values over time, and individuals might take different lessons, if any, from the same community at the same time. But there is something remarkable about the exchanges of ideas between those characters and the way they drew on the spirit of earlier generations of Balliol students and their tutors. Again, it was not about all thinking alike. Rather, as a Balliol student of the 1880s Anthony Hope Hawkins said of his tutor, R L Nettleship, it was that he ‘taught me to seek truth – and never to be sure I had found it’.
Fourth, as this 80th anniversary year proceeded, I was struck by how many reports I read or re-read not only by Beveridge but also by committees which included Temple or Tawney. This was brought out beautifully through one of the many insights of our final panel of the year when Lord (Rowan) Williams pointed out the methodology of the Independent Commission on the Constitutional Future of Wales, of which he is co-chair, which was established by the Welsh Government. The Commission has made a point of going out and about to listen to people in their own communities. This reminded me of co-founding thirty years ago in Northern Ireland, with a journalist friend Robin Wilson, Initiative 92, a citizens’ movement which created the independent Opsahl Commission. This invited representations from all-comers, whether or not they were subject to broadcasting restrictions, to offer views on ways forward for people and communities in Northern Ireland. Charitable funding, principally from Quaker foundations, allowed outreach workers to help new and old community groups develop their submissions and prepare for their appearances at the 17 public hearings and two inter-school assemblies held across Northern Ireland. The Commission received over 500 submissions from more than 3.000 people. The report was published in June 1993 and is perhaps best remembered for its practical proposals to promote parity of esteem between different communities. In my opinion, however, the beauty of it was in the process. As Index on Censorship observed, ‘The Opsahl Report gave a platform to voices excluded elsewhere – from the Catholic and Protestant working women of Belfast to academics and lawyers – all tired of the old polemic. It gave hope that in Northern Ireland, too, an end is stirring.’ The first IRA ceasefire came just over a year later at the end of August 1994 and the Good Friday Agreement was reached in 1998. This emphasis on encouraging inclusive processes, from Northern Ireland to Wales and beyond, connects to points our Foundation has made throughout 2022, especially in Professor Chris Baker’s public lecture in Leeds and in his wider writing on what he calls kenotic leadership.
Fifth, what Temple and Beveridge in their different ways brought to war-torn people in 1942 was ultimately a prophetic voice of hope. Today, still, what the socially excluded are ultimately excluded from is a sense of hope. Cardinal Suenens explained that, ‘To hope is not to dream but to turn dreams into reality’. When we celebrate an anniversary, we are not simply looking backwards. We are seeking inspiration to pass forwards. In war-time, people yearn for peace. The priority for those being ‘left behind’ is naturally food and shelter. Both Temple and Beveridge wanted better education as well as good health and living conditions for all. All this comes together in the gift of hope. On publication of their 1942 works, Temple and Beveridge immediately set about taking their messages around the country and beyond. The talks by Temple are collected in a volume entitled The Church Looks Forward. They include his BBC broadcast for Christmas 1942. Temple returned to the theme of states using power and force being resisted by nations that wished to promote the welfare of all through love and hope. He ended with wise words which apply just as much in 2022 as in 1942: ‘the hope of the world will not be fulfilled when’ we have overcome aggressor states, ‘that hope will be fulfilled when the lesson of Christmas is fully learnt’, by which he meant absorbing the mystery of the ‘Child of Bethlehem’, who ‘lies helpless in the stable’. Then he spoke again on the last Sunday of 1942, in a BBC broadcast entitled ‘From The Old Year To The New’, in which he asked for an examination of our individual and collective consciences:
‘So at this moment of passage from a year of so great vicissitudes, which yet closes with great hope and promise, to a year which must call for all we have of constancy in endurance, and perhaps also for the vision and wisdom to make a right use of success, let us take stock of ourselves and ask how far we, to whom a noble cause has been entrusted, are worthy to be its champions.’
Simon Lee is the Chair of the Trustees of the William Temple Foundation, Professor of Law, Aston University, and Emeritus Professor of Jurisprudence, Queen’s University Belfast
