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.
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.
Ken Loach’s latest film set in the North East opened in cinemas in late September and Dr Val Barron was privileged to have a small part in its creation. You can see her wearing a dog-collar in the publicity poster above!
In this interview, she talks about her involvement in the project and some of the key messages of the film about the role of local churches and communities, hopefulness and the courage to take action.
How did your association with The Old Oak start?
Almost 5 years ago, my husband John (a real vicar) and I were introduced to Paul Laverty, Ken Loach’s script writer of almost 30 years. They had previously collaborated on two films in the North East ‘I Daniel Blake’ and ‘Sorry We Missed You’, and Paul was exploring a third film based on Syrian refugees moving into communities in the area. The government had committed to resettling 20,000 Syrian refugees and a number of local authorities in our region signed up including Gateshead, where we were at the time. The socio-economic geography of the region resulted in many families being rehomed in isolated communities with high levels of poverty. People were struggling to cope, and the awful ‘Breaking Point’ posters that were being used in Brexit campaigns didn’t help to make the transition to the North East an easy one.
What was your and John’s role in the early stages of the film’s development?
Paul is a gatherer of stories! He does this by spending time with people, building relationships and sharing stories with one another – as well as drinking copious cups of tea. Our role, as well as sharing our own stories, was to introduce Paul and later Ken, to all the amazing people in our community.
Working with the local Methodist’s, our church folks ran language classes and meetings where we shared food and fellowship as well as weekly community football sessions in the estate where the refugees had moved. These gatherings brought people together and helped build relationships across the community as well as with our new friends who had come to us as refugees. Paul came and joined in and got to know the stories of local residents and their new neighbours.
What is your role in the film and how did you feel?
It’s fair to say I haven’t missed my vocation in life and I didn’t feel comfortable in front of the camera, unlike our community organiser colleague Claire Rodgerson who plays Laura so wonderfully in the film. On the first day of filming Ken made a point of saying that my role was in the film to represent all the work that churches are doing in their communities to support refugees. That felt important. John reminds me that I do say some of the first words in the film (although it’s off-camera). Maybe, if I had been more comfortable, I would have been less on the cutting room floor – but that’s OK! The first scene was very daunting for us all but right from day one there was a sense of everyone looking out for each other. The most enjoyable was the people involved. It was also a very emotional process. I live in these communities and care deeply about them and the film highlights many of the challenges. On the first day filming I was with some of the Syrian actors and she asked whether people lived in these street as, in her words, ‘it looks like a war zone’.
Watching a film being made must have been fascinating – what did you learn about it?
I had to pinch myself at times. I was on set for Ken Loach’s last film (probably!). Watching Ken and the team at work was phenomenal. They cared so much about the story and more importantly the people taking part. Ken knew everyone’s name, including their name in the film and that really made you feel valued. It was really tough at time and so there was a huge amount of trust in him and the team, especially as the majority of the cast were not trained actors. But the overriding thing I took away was the collaborative working. We were all in our own little way helping to shape a story that was important to us for different reasons and I met and made friends with some wonderful people.
What do you see as the message and how do you think it will be received in the North East?
I am sure the film will receive mixed reviews, as Ken’s films always do. The language is tough and uncomfortable at times, however I doubt anyone will watch it and come away unchallenged. The North East has the highest rates of child poverty and a recent study by Shelter found that the region had the highest proportion (31%) of homeless households, including those living in temporary accommodation. Per capita the North East has the highest percentage of asylum seekers in the United Kingdom. Given these tough facts you might not expect the key message of the film to be hope, but it is. Hope that despite all the challenges in our communities we can come together and build beautiful relationships across difference.
Throughout the whole process Ken and Paul were always asking where the stories of hope were. The second message is ‘solidarity not charity‘. This is an important issue for us to discuss in our churches. The natural response of providing charity may not be the most appropriate. Providing spaces to build relationships and learn each other’s stories, whether through sharing food or playing football, could be the most prophetic ministry.
How does the church come across in the film?
The story of the film was inspired by church projects – the film tells a different story but it remains faithful to the truths that were told in the stories of the projects. Rather than being set in a church, a local pub (‘The Old Oak’) is at the centre of the film which will perhaps enable more people in our communities to readily relate the story to their stories. While there isn’t a local church building featuring in the film, the church’s social action very much shaped this venture. There is a beautiful scene in Durham Cathedral in which the character Yara says:
“It takes strength to build something new, it takes strength to build something beautiful.”
I see churches in the North East, and across the country, somehow finding strength to build things new and beautiful, inspired by their Christian faith to make the world a better place to live.
The Bishop of Durham, Paul Butler who speaks for the Church of England on refugees, tweeted after the premier:
“The Old Oak made me cry, feel angry, ashamed, disturbed, cry again, but also hope and have a sense of pride in what has and can be done to welcome refugees well. Ken Loach and team have once again produced a superb, timely, film.”
We arranged community showings of ‘I Daniel Blake’ and produce resources to be used alongside these. We will be doing the same again with this film.
Paul Laverty, when talking about the film has quoted St Augustine of Hippo:
“Hope has two beautiful daughters; their names are Anger and Courage. Anger at the way things are, and Courage to see that they do not remain as they are.”
My prayer for this film is that people feel anger at the injustice that face many in our communities, not just refugees, and courage to take action.
Dr Val Barron is a William Temple Scholar. Val has worked as a community practitioner in Durham Diocese and she is the lead development worker at Communities Together in Durham. Val is passionate about community organising, social enterprise and working with local churches in challenging social injustice and helping communities to become fairer and more inclusive.
2023 marks 40 years since Archbishop Robert Runcie set up the Archbishop’s Commision on Urban Priority Areas. This approach of bringing together a Commission of “the great and the good” to report on a pressing social issue was possibly the last hurrah of the William Temple tradition. It assumed that the established Church had considerable soft power, and could influence national policy. The report made 61 recommendations: 38 of them to the Church of England, and 23 to the government and nation. Almost all the policy recommendations on unemployment, housing, benefits, education, local government, and policing involved increased public spending, and an attempt to empower local urban communities. The underlying assumptions of the report were that a wide consensus around the post-war welfare state, that Temple and his colleagues had promoted, would ensure that progress towards justice, equality and human flourishing would continue.
Faith in the City represented a moment of prophetic truth-telling by the Church of England but Government Ministers labelled it “pure Marxist theology”. The storm surrounding the report exemplified a broader secularist narrative that sought to restrict religion to the private sphere.
Since 1985, Church of England attempts to influence national policy seem much more modest and have had little impact. The Faithful Cities report 20 years later is now largely forgotten. A new report from the Archbishops’ Families and Households Commission ‘Love Matters’ makes a series of recommendations about how families and households can best flourish, but was not even mentioned by the BBC, and a google search reveals only two articles in the secular national press. Where the bishops in the House of Lords have made what might be called “prophetic” comments on issues such as refugees, food poverty or personal integrity of politicians they appear marginal to the prevailing political narrative, or are eclipsed by the interventions of footballers, such as Gary Lineker and Marcus Rashford. The established church can, of course, still do spectacular public rituals like the Queen’s funeral or the Coronation, and in that context deliver a good sermon that points people to Jesus. However, it is more likely than ever to be referenced for scandal or hypocrisy, especially in regard to safeguarding failures. The media wants to concentrate on internal disagreements on sexuality, where large and vocal sections of the church are out of touch with the prevailing culture. The statistics from the Census, and Church attendance data increasingly show an erosion of public support, especially among the young. While some right wing populist politicians advocate a return to “Christian values”, they are weaker than in the USA or parts of Europe, and are fundamentally a statement of white “English” identity, rather than serious Christian commitment. The Church’s soft power is not what it was in 1985, let alone 1945. What would William Temple do today?
Faith in the City on the other hand did have a significant impact on the churches, especially in a wave of urban mission activity over the following two decades. (See our Urban Tract No 1, and recent autobiographies from Laurie Green, and Neville Black). A major achievement was establishment of the Church Urban Fund and its support of local community projects, which continues to this day. The critique of this approach as “salvation by projects” flags up some of the weakness of the report in terms of theology and missiology; all the energy expended in its wake failed in making disciples of inner city people and integrating them into flourishing, self-sustaining urban parishes. The recommendations to the institutional church seemed worthy at the time, but many have come back to haunt us forty years later. The training of leaders, both clergy and lay, to equip them for ministry in urban parishes remains woefully inadequate, despite a few useful initiatives in the immediate aftermath of Faith in the City. The sharing of resources, especially finance, of affluent dioceses and parishes to poorer areas remains a pipe dream. The issue of institutional racism in the church was highlighted, but never adequately addressed. Although recently a new wave of awareness, and activism followed the rise of Black Lives Matter in 2020, the struggles of BAME Anglicans remain a battleground. Additionally, the reality of White Privilege and “whiteness” have been rejected by many who hold power and influence in the Church.
There have been major changes in the urban scene since 1985. Massive regeneration programmes have taken place in major cities such as London, Manchester, Liverpool, Bristol and Leeds, particularly around derelict dockland and post industrial areas. Land use has changed, land values have soared, but often original urban communities have been displaced, died out or moved out. Inequality has grown and concentrations of poverty and deprivation are now more likely to be found in peripheral estates, smaller post industrial towns, ex coalfield communities and coastal resorts. Globalisation and large scale immigration has produced a superdiversity of populations in metropolitan areas, and increasingly in smaller cities. The results and reaction to these trends seem somewhat contradictory; on the one hand xenophobia and the Brexit vote, on the other economic and cultural vibrancy in local communities. In the churches, the dominant forces now seem to be new congregations that serve particular ethnic heritage communities, or charismatic groups that attract individual consumers of religion. Yet alongside this, we also witness growing numbers of lively multicultural local congregations and parishes as discussed in John Root’s blog. Research undertaken by Goldsmiths during the pandemic lockdowns suggest that locally there are more opportunities for faith communities to partner in welfare work, as long as no one actually talks explicitly about faith or questions assumptions about equalities as defined in law, or unjust economic inequalities.
To be fair the Church of England, encouraged by Bishop Philip North, has invested new time and finance in estates ministry and the National Estates Churches Network. An attempt has been made to develop an estates theology in a recent book, Finding the Treasure edited by Al Barrett. Personally, I found this rather disappointing in its methodology of experts listening to local voices, rather than the local people leading theological reflection as advocated in Laurie Green’s Let’s do theology. It also fails to connect, and will most likely not be read by Christians who are concerned with making disciples, urban church planting and renewal, and who want to ground their theology in scripture, read, interpreted and applied in local urban contexts.
Such readers will find more resonance in the work of “settler” mission teams associated with organisations such as the Eden Network. I attended a day at their recent Proximity Conference and listened to numerous hopeful stories, sometimes related with what seemed youthful enthusiasm, but which in the light of experience has moved beyond naivety. Anna Ruddick, or Chris Lane have written important books drawn from reflections on involvement in this movement, tracing how long term commitment introduced more realistic expectations and measures of success, and transformed theologies from triumphalism towards a discovery of the Missio Dei in marginal places. It is in such movements that I see signs of God at work, and some of his people getting on board.
It is this sense, rather than in the soft power approach of Temple and the established church, with its condescending “effortless superiority”, that I believe we can still find Faith in the City.
This short book comprises a collection of reflections from the Church of England Estates Theology Project with five case studies from parishes on social housing estates in various urban and suburban settings across England. It is intended to be an encouragement to church leaders working in such settings and to break the stereotype that all is grim and the church is dead or dying in the less affluent areas. It arises from the Anglican commitment promoted by Bishop Philip North to strengthen and renew parish life and spread the gospel among people living in such neighbourhoods. In my opinion (and personal lifelong calling) this is exactly where Christians should be directing their prayers, resources, time and effort, not so much because there is spiritual, social and economic need, but it is in such places that we will find remarkable signs of God at work and encounter Jesus in surprising ways, not just on Sundays. Although this is the message the book attempts to convey, I am not fully convinced it achieves its aim.
First of all, the case studies in the book are exclusively Anglican. This fact will inevitably narrow the potential readership to clergy working in parish settings, and those tasked with training them. The Wythenshawe case study concentrates on a community weaving project based at the William Temple Church. It comes over as a good story of an interesting example of a community art project. At certain points, it touches Christian values and faith. But over the years I have heard or read numerous other accounts of church life in Wythenshawe, from different denominations and mission perspectives, which are not represented in the chapter. As a result I am reminded of a comment originally made by Anne Morissey (who wrote a foreword to the book) about the way the Church of England exudes “a sense of effortless superiority” in its approach to community ministry.
The rest of the book continues in the same vein. The majority of the parishes involved are from a liberal catholic or radical tradition. Only the chapter from Eltham, with input from the Church Army, uses any evangelical language in its theological framing of the local story. Yet in doing so it largely rejects the evangelical priorities of sharing the Gospel, and calling people to repent, believe, follow Jesus and be baptised into the community of his church. Long experience of urban mission has shown there are big problems with such a formulaic approach, and that preaching at people is mostly ineffective. However, if the local church on estates is to survive, become self supporting and self propagating, we should work hard on talking about Jesus, making disciples, strengthening socially diverse worshipping communities, who engage with and serve their neighbourhood, and developing local Christian leaders. There doesn’t seem to be much of this sort of good news reflected in the book, though there are many other places where it is happening.
I find the theological method of the book curious. It is based on pairing an academic theologian with a church leader and trying to listen to the voices of local residents. They reflected on what they heard and produced chapters which still feel rather abstract and academic in style. While listening is always to be recommended, and contextual reflection on local stories is foundational for urban theology, it might have been helpful to use a more participatory approach where local people (Christians and others) worked together to generate conclusions and linking with Bible stories and themes. It is only in the final section of the book that the editor makes reference to Laurie Green’s “Let’s do Theology”, which would have been my personal starting point for the whole project.
Reviewed by Greg Smith, Associate Research Fellow William Temple Foundation and Trustee of Urban Theology Union.
In my last blog I reflected on whether the findings in the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change’s Sixth Assessment Report would send sufficiently strong signals to induce meaningful, global responses to the climate crisis. This week, the Earth Commission has published a report in Nature journal, which presents more evidence of signals from Earth systems to which we should devote considerable attention. These signals indicate that humans are taking colossal risks with the future of civilization, along with everything that lives on Earth. The FT headline about the report states simply that Earth is past its safe limits for humans. It haunts me that Steve Cutts’ chilling predictions about Man might come true.
Seven of Eight System Boundaries Have Been Breached
The Earth Commission’s report, “Safe and just Earth system boundaries,” assesses several biophysical processes and systems that regulate the state of the Earth system, including climate, biosphere, land use, water, nutrient cycles and aerosol pollutants. The researchers involved have identified the limits within which those systems operate effectively, and the harm that could ensue should those limits be breached. Of the eight boundaries reviewed by researchers, seven have been pushed beyond their safe and just limit into risk zones that increasingly threaten planetary and human health. As the report says, all the systems are interconnected, such that overshooting the safe limit for one could have consequential effects for others.
Natural and Social Limits
Although focussed on science and physical processes, the IPCC’s 6th Assessment Report and the Earth Commission’s report both emphasise the effect that changes in earth systems will have on society. Environmental degradation and social justice are two sides of the same coin. The Earth Commission’s report exhibits a sincere concern for justice, focusing especially on intergenerational justice for people into the scientific analysis used to assess safe limits for the planet.
Global, Systemic Transformations Are Needed
The Earth Commission’s work is the first of its kind, building on the notion of Planetary Boundaries that were proposed over a decade ago. The result of work by more than 50 scientists from around the world has been to provide compelling evidence designed to advise key actors to achieve a safe and just future. The report calls for “nothing less than a just global transformation across all earth system boundaries to ensure human well-being.” Such transformations “must be systemic across energy, food, urban and other sectors, addressing the economic, technological, political and other drivers of Earth system change, and ensure access for the poor through reductions and reallocations of resource use.”
Leaping into the Path of Transformation
The report ends by saying that the path to transformation “will not be a linear journey; it requires a leap in our understanding of how justice, economics, technology and global cooperation can be furthered in the service of a safe and just future.” Two other recent news stories might give some insight into what that leap is like.
Leaping beyond growth?
First, the EU’s Beyond Growth conference at the European Parliament was attended by 2,500 people. It was described from day one as the Woodstock of Beyond Growth for two reasons: firstly, because it felt more like a festival than a conference; and secondly, because it attracted the rock stars of the beyond growth movement, and the halls of the European Parliament rang with rowdy ovations. The conference briefing paper provides many insights into possible futures beyond growth, and the fictional newspaper from May 2033 anticipates the news in a world of transformed policy making focussed entirely on the well-being of people and planet. Of course, as some commentators suggest, the conference outcomes do not yet offer a complete vision of an alternative future. Nevertheless, they give insight into what type of leap we need to take.
Artificially Intelligent Leaps
Secondly, debates about the role of Artificial Intelligence in managing our future continue to pepper the news. Will it save us or destroy us? If we humans cannot change course, will AI step in to curb our unsustainable behaviours and what are the associated ethics. These are the key questions that are considered by the William Temple Foundation’s Ethical Futures Network.
Conclusion
The signals that we must stop unsustainable behaviours and practices are overwhelmingly clear, whether from natural systems, or society or from specialists in technology. The William Temple Foundation is planning to convene interested parties from diverse disciplines to consider the contribution that faith-based organisations can play in crafting viable alternatives to current unsustainable practices and details will be forthcoming. Maybe we will get 10,000 participants, in a way that is reminiscent of how Archbishop William Temple attracted a large assembly of people in 1942 when he tackled the social issues of the day. It won’t be easy, but the signals clearly mean that our only choice now is to dig in and feel the fear of the leap into the unknown… It is best that we do it together.
Lois Tarbet is is also a Trustee of the William Temple Foundation.
‘Doing God is often messy and controversial, but the social benefits far outweigh the negatives’ would seem to be the gist of this much-anticipated review by Colin Bloom into how Government engages with faith which was published this week. The delay (three years in the writing) is partly explained by COVID but also in fairness, to the sheer amount of data the report received. Over 22,000 submissions and a million pieces of data later suggests that the issues surrounding religion and belief and its practice is still incredibly live and important. As the review correctly observes:
Faith in England and Wales is alive and well, and the abundance of detailed and passionate responses to this review across many faith and belief communities highlights the importance of the topic to many in contemporary British society. Faith is a diverse and evolving force which government cannot afford to ignore. (p. 30)
It is also the first review of its kind ever undertaken and is linked to the government’s Levelling Up agenda. The connection between religion and levelling up is not developed in report (perhaps because there is little consensus on what is meant by Levelling Up in the first place). But it perhaps betrays a sublimated wish on the part of Government for religion to act as both a moral legitimator for a rudderless policy term, and the hope that the activities and motivation of faith groups in upholding and developing their local communities (often the poorest and the most deprived) will give much needed meaningful content to the idea.
The report frames its understanding with a typology of true-believers, no-believers and make-believers. Increasing numbers of people in this society may baulk at such a simplistic binary narrative as true believer or no believer on the grounds that their religious and spiritual beliefs are deeply felt but complex and nuanced in their public expression. Make-believers refers to those who distort religious ideas into fundamentalist national and identity politics. The report is at pains to stress that these are a minority but that their activity needs to be more tightly regulated by government for the sake of safeguarding and freedom of speech.
This typology is necessary for understanding the rest of the report; i.e. that government needs to support and understand religion and belief in the round, and strategically support good religion and belief as a vital resource for promoting social wellbeing, equality and participation. To this end the report advocates firm policies on religious literacy for all public sector bodies, increased resourcing for RE in education and for those key areas where religion intersects with public provision in prison and health care, and the appointment of a national independent Faiths Champion.
But the report is equally clear that it is the role of the state to crack down on bad (or make-believe) religions linked to forms of nationalist and religious extremism. All the main religious faith traditions in the UK (including Christianity and its co-option by some far-right groups) have clear links with banned international and domestic terrorist organisations. Bad religion also rightly includes the practices of forced marriage and spiritual abuse in its list of things that Government needs to actively prescribe. However, the uneven and disproportionate way these sections are treated – issues outlining Sikh extremism occupies twice the length of discussion than all the other faith groups out together – is likely to raise accusations of potential tarring whole communities in ways that the Prevent programme has done for the Muslim community. The repeated observation that freedom to practice Christianity in the UK is now perceived to be under threat (perhaps the point could have been made just once or twice) is likely to fuel the toxic culture wars rhetoric of right-wing media and far-right groups.
Ultimately, the Bloom Review, is something of a missed opportunity to move the debate on religion and belief in England in a ground-breaking way. The research I undertook for the APPG on Faith and Society analysed the pandemic as a ‘permission space’ that allowed us to talk about religion and belief in a new way that also led to innovative and effective partnerships with secular agencies. The anxieties that secular groups usually feel about working with faith groups (for example, proselytization safeguarding, a lack of accountability etc) were suspended for the sake of effective working together. Stereotypes were largely disproved in the relationships forged in the crucible of the pandemic. Instead of difference this crucible highlighted shared values and therefore the possibility of achieving shared outcomes through co-creation of policies rather than co-production.
I hope the Bloom Review will be a landmark document that brings about lasting and positive change to faith and secular relations. What is missing is a step-change in re-imagining the role of religion and belief in British society that is commensurate with the unprecedented nature of the challenges facing this country. Most of the report’s recommendations see religion more as a problem to be managed, rather than highlighting, for example, the potential of religious ideas to profoundly shape the overall policy framework that delivers the sort of society we want to create. There is a reference to round tables. Where, however, are the structural opportunities to devise and shape policy, as well as deliver policy? William Temple did that 80 years ago from a Judeo-Christian perspective in his book report – Christianity and Social Order, which was published in1942 and paved the way for the post-war Welfare State. Levelling Up is a policy in desperate need of that sort of envisioning now, and it would be a multifaith and postsecular endeavour, not purely a Christian one.
As we negotiate the legacy of the pandemic, the ongoing cost of living crisis and the horror of climate disaster, religion and belief could – indeed should – be a real force for social renewal through this re-envisioning of levelling up, rather than applying sticking plasters and bandages to systems and policy plans that are already deeply broken.
In early 2022, I was the inaugural recipient of the William Temple Foundation Postdoctoral Award. Twelve months on, I am writing to share some of what has happened following the award. There are a number of strands to what is now an established postdoctoral agenda. Here I will share one strand, which covers work that is emerging with the Dialogue Society in Liverpool, beginning with a community Iftar in April.
The Fellows’ Award has been developed using a legacy from Len Collinson, former Deputy Lieutenant of Merseyside, Honorary Professor of the University of Central Lancashire, and business leader in northwest England. Collinson recognised that enterprise and interdisciplinary partnerships were central tenets of a flourishing society. Prof. Simon Lee, Chair of the William Temple Foundation, said of the award:
“A core part of the Foundation’s work has been supporting William Temple Scholars as they pursue their doctoral studies at Goldsmiths, University of London. Trustees have now committed to encouraging Scholars, once they have been awarded their PhD, to apply their research in society.”
In this spirit, I have begun to utilise the award to explore how dialogue can inform leadership and shared values in Liverpool, in uncertain times. The full project is set out in three blogs, the first of which can be found here. Following a call for participation, a connection with the Dialogue Society was established, which then connected me with volunteers who had recently moved to Liverpool.
For those who have not heard of it, the Dialogue Society is an international network that supports local Branches to establish associations in cities and to gather interested parties together to share. This is often done over food using an Iftar as a basis for a gathering. The Dialogue Society has drawn on the inspiration of the Hizmet Movement, a Turkish Muslim inspired approach to dialogue. Where a Branch is present it will convene meetings outside of the Iftar. In Liverpool there is not a Branch at present, but there is interest in establishing one.
In May 2022, I convened a dialogue in Liverpool. We met using Zoom, attracting attendance from Turkish muslim asylum seekers who had moved to Liverpool during the pandemic. The dialogue lasted for two hours and we explored questions of hope, barriers to hope and what might be done to overcome these barriers in the city. In response, themes included the safety and education of their children, loss of loved ones, the limitations created by a language barrier, and the stress and insecurity of being in an unknown city in an unknown country.
One respondent noted that this was the first time they had been offered space to reflect on their journeys and the difficulties they faced. One attendee noted that they would want to say a great deal more than their English could allow them too. They asked for the opportunity to write down their feelings and their experiences and to share these with those gathered with the hope that it could develop an opportunity for further reflection. Those gathered expressed a deep resilience to overcome barriers and to connect with people in the new communities they were part of. The small actions of others, a phone call from a friend in turkey, a cup of tea from a fellow community member in the city they have moved to were significant.
What had become clear is that through the transition into the UK the group gathered had found a new appreciation for the role social connection plays in their lives. They noted that they had lost work (in business and science and education) but gained a sense of togetherness and common humanity. This offered the basis for gatherings to continue, exploring a common humanity with others in the city to which they have just moved, not limited by their own preconceptions and worldviews per se, but finding common and shared ground with those communities that had welcomed them in to contribute to the place in which they now live.
This dialogue has become the basis for further gatherings that are taking place in 2023. The first of these is on the 12th April, when Dialogue Society and Spaces of Hope will convene a community Iftar at the Pal Multicultural Centre in Liverpool. We will continue to develop the dialogue we began in 2022, exploring the theme of hope and whether it would be a fruitful thing to do to establish a Branch of the Dialogue Society in Liverpool. Our focus on hope is a response to the many uncertainties we live with today. These include the cost of living crisis, the energy crisis, the pandemic, climate change, and many more. The goal is to facilitate resilience in the city, with people from across different communities, with different beliefs, values, and worldviews in curating a more hopeful place to live.
If you are in Liverpool and wish to attend the gathering, you are welcome to RSVP to Matthew at matthew@spacesofhope.co.uk by 31st March 2023.
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
At this time of year, as we enter into the season of Advent, a season of expectation and preparation as we ponder on the coming of Christ, both in tiny fragile human form, and as the one who will return as judge, we also find ourselves swept up in the rush of festivities and more mundane preparations. The familiar images of Christmas are presented to us as a backdrop to our December lives; of jolly Santas, glittering decorations, and of course, traditional nativity scenes; in cards, as wooden cut-outs in our public spaces, in school plays, and sung in carols in churches, street corners, and shopping centres.
Interpretations of the precise set-up of Mary’s birth narrative are many, but I imagine it to be less perfect, less sterile, than how it has often been portrayed and presented to us. We know the scene – a peaceful Jesus (no crying he makes) a doting mother (meek and mild), gentle animals, and a comfortable manger. It can feel a long way from the mess and magic of childbirth. A long way from the fear and anxieties of a young couple giving birth away from home, knowing perhaps, that their next journey was not towards home, but flight into a strange land.
Although traditionally, childbirth has not inspired much theological reflection, we can perhaps use this time of year to dwell with Mary in her final days of pregnancy and her childbirth, and to enter into solidarity with those today, facing birth in uncertain or dangerous situations. For birth remains a risky business.
Despite maternal mortality rates falling worldwide, the number remains too high, with 152 maternal deaths per 100,000 live births in 2021.[1] The vast majority of these are in the global south. In addition, a UN report published in 2021 states that in the previous three years, a million children were born as refugees[2], their early lives echoing the infant Christ, born in a temporary home, and dependent upon powers and forces beyond their control, yet each birth bearing the potential to bring hope, with life continuing despite its most gruelling circumstances.
And yet, here in the UK, we fool ourselves if we can compartmentalise this as a ‘far away’ problem, and return to our cosy Christmases, unmoved or unaffected. Birth shows us that the ‘dangerous’ margins are not only geographical – a cause for which we might donate a charity Christmas card. The margins where Mary can be found standing in solidarity are those of race, ability, and class here in the UK. Examining them, should draw us into a desire to seek to improve birthing conditions worldwide, as we reflect upon our common humanity.
A recent report published by the University of Oxford as part of the MBRACE Project (Mothers and Babies: Reducing Risk through Audits and Confidential Enquiries across the UK)[3] revealed that, excluding deaths from COVID, maternal mortality had increased by almost 20% in the UK in the period 2028-2020. The leading direct cause of death amongst pregnant people, or those within 6 weeks of birth, was suicide. Those facing ‘multiple adversities’ including a history of trauma or abuse were more likely to die, and that ‘women living in the most deprived areas were more than twice as likely to die as those in the most affluent part of the UK’.[4]
As we are seeing across all sectors, the cracks are widening between those who can live lives of relative safety, and those who cannot. Black women are already 3.7 times more likely to die in childbirth than white women, and are more likely to feel unheard and less able to advocate for themselves and for their child. In a 2021 article in The Independent, Chine McDonald writes of having to leverage her ‘husband’s whiteness to ensure the protection of my baby and myself’.[5]
These disparities we see in birth draw attention to the same disparities which exist across society, that the world we live in is a world tilted to the voices, lives, and experiences of the able, the white, the wealthy, and the male. The agony faced by women seeking treatment for common gynaecological conditions such as endometriosis shows just how unimportant female health so often is viewed as. As the lead researcher of the MBRACE study, Professor Marian Knight describes, these appalling conditions are simply ‘bleak’.
Reflecting on the state of maternity care this advent, it feels as though the humble and meek, the forgotten and excluded, are only being further cast down, stepped over or ignored by those with power. This picture feels at odds to the sentiment of Mary’s own song, the Magnificat. During her own pregnancy her voice is raised to sing of the world which God will bring about – where the proud are scattered, the hungry fed, the rich sent away empty, and the lowly lifted up. We fail to see the image of God in these women, and fail to see the presence of Mary, in birthing solidary besides them.
Images and icons of Mary have long been used as devotional aids by women, as ways to petition for Mary’s prayers, to share in her life, and the life of her son. In recent times, new icons, such as Mark Dukes’ icon ’Our Lady Mother of Ferguson and all those killed by gun violence’ have highlighted God’s presence with those who suffer violence and oppression, and call for our Christian solidary. This solidarity must firstly be expressed in the transformation of our own hearts, to stand alongside those who face unsafe births, to amplify their voices, and to raise our own voices to attempt to transform their experiences.
At Christmas the reality of our Christian faith comes into focus with the incarnation, that God is a God who chooses to become human. A God for whom flesh and blood matters, and who knows what it is to be born, a God who is present amongst the suffering of the world. When we gaze upon images of the nativity this Advent and Christmas we should be reminded of the risk of birth, of the God who is familiar with the mess of the manger, and of Mary, Mother of God, who, in giving birth to Jesus, is ever giving birth on the margins of society.
May we use this as a chance to reflect on those giving birth this Christmas, in fearful situations, in refugee camps, and in inadequately staffed hospitals, including those facing trauma, and those whose voices will not be heard, and commit ourselves to doing what we can to ensure that childbirth is safe and supported.
When Christ returns, how will he judge us for what we have done for the least amongst us?
Alice is the Chaplain of The Queen’s College Oxford and her academic work focuses on liturgy and childbirth. Her contact details are alice.watson@queens.ox.ac.uk, Twitter: @alicelydiajoy
