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Justice and Peace attended the Scottish Fair Trade Campaigner Conference in Paisley last week. This is an edited version of the challenging talk given by Kat Jones, linking Fairtrade to the climate crisis and the frustrations of COPs that, in the main halls, struggle even to pay lip service to the radical rethinks required to protect the planet and its most vulnerable citizens.  Currently working for APRS, Action to Protect Rural Scotland, she previously worked for Scotland’s civil society climate coalition – Stop Climate Chaos Scotland – for three years around the time of COP26.

We are in a climate crisis. The things that we have been talking about as climate campaigners for decades, which, until recently affecting the poorest nations: extreme weather, storms, droughts, intense rainfall and flooding, are now starting to be seen across the nations which draw the headlines: the bleaching of the Great Barrier Reef, the hottest temperatures ever seen in the USA, towns catching fire, unprecedented floods.

This isn’t new to those who have been campaigning and working with those in the global south. They have been experiencing climate related crop failures, unseasonal weather, droughts, floods, hurricanes for decades. But now it has come to us, even in the UK, which makes it much harder to ignore.

This brings to stark reality that, this is not just a climate crisis, it is a crisis of justice.  For those working on Fair Trade, the justice element will be particularly stark – we all know that those countries who have created the most emissions have suffered the least impact. And we know that those countries suffering the early impacts of climate change have had the least resources to deal with it while contributing the least to the issue. The emissions may be one-sided but the impacts are global.

What are the solutions?

So what are the solutions being put forward? Are they going to achieve an equitable, sustainable and liveable planet?  And where does Fair Trade fit into this? COP is a key space where climate solutions are discussed in an international area. And as to the question of whether they are putting forward solutions that will achieve an equitable, sustainable and liveable planet the answer has to be – not really….

There is a lot of trying to maintain the status quo, to make sure the winners in our current situation stay the winners. The solutions are always more of the same. ‘We just haven’t done capitalism properly’ is a reaction to the crisis. Are there too many emissions? …’Well that’s because no one owns the atmosphere, We just need a market in carbon credits…’

I’ve been to two COPs – one in Madrid, when COP26 had just been announced as coming to Glasgow, and COP26 itself. Fair Trade is also a long-time regular at COPs so some of you may know firsthand what I am talking about here.

In the official COP spaces the ‘blah blah blah’ – as Greta Thunberg so accurately described it – is all about the economic opportunities to be had in the climate crisis, new technologies that will save the situation, and about incremental changes that will save the planet, and how marketisation is the answer and ‘net zero’.
And what is Net Zero anyway? A phrase that was conceived by scientists to describe that the earth needed to reach a global balance of greenhouse emissions, and enshrined as a principle in the Paris agreement has become a buzz word used by everyone.

It has become meaningless as ‘carbon credits’ have flooded the market meaning that businesses can declare themselves net-zero but just purchasing credits that are of dubious value. Net zero, for responsible small business, like Fair Trade businesses, can also become a real burden.

Yes it is important for everyone to cut down emissions where we can, whether individuals and small business, but to actually achieve the vast reductions in emissions needed, fundamental changes in the economy, energy transport and tax and subsidies need to be made which are not in the gift of small business and individuals to make. By framing this mainly as a problem for everyone to solve, governments and fossil fuel companies can get away without making the massive changes and the massive decisions that they need to.

In a COP there is no stepping back to look at what has caused the problems, to objectively look at what needs to change and humbly acknowledging what a mess the ‘status quo’ has caused.

But I'm being unfair – not all the spaces at COP are like that. In the IPCC pavilion you will hear the urgency. I went out for dinner with a friend who I did my PhD with and now authors one of the IPCC chapters. The desperation in her colleagues – thinking that they wouldn’t be able to make a difference before it was too late- was palpable.

And in the side meeting rooms were indigenous people are talking about how everything needs to change – we need to see value where it really lies. But everywhere else the talk was of the economic opportunities to be grasped, the medicine for the planet is more of the same – marketisation, the role of capital, financing.
 
Inside COP a city of pavilions, representing countries, and specific interests, has grown up around the negotiations. Everyone is there in the peripheral spaces to sell their products or their ideas. COP26 had more delegates than a cop ever had (nearly 40,000) – despite being the covid COP. And the vast proportion  weren’t there to be part of the official negotiations – there was also the most representatives of fossil fuel interests – 500 making them bigger than any country delegation.

The pavilions felt like a huge and no-expense-spared trade fair. While using the free wifi and coffee at the UK Pavilion during COP26 I overheard a conversation where a man was evidently trying to sell his ‘net zero fighter jets’ to someone from the UK government pavilion…

But outside the security perimeter of COP were the civil society spaces. In my role at SCCS we played the part as local hosts and provided venues for civil society and campaigners, accommodation in people’s homes and in these places the talk wasn’t of opportunities, status quo and incremental change – talk was of ‘justice’ and ‘systems change’.  Climate was seen as just one symptom of a wider malaise.
The talk there was about the extractive nature of our global economy– taking from the poorest to deliver wealth to the richest. A zero sum game where one is the winner and the other is the loser.

But trade was never supposed to be like that. The first economists saw trade as a way that everyone benefits from the exchange. Adam smith has been badly represented. Trade has always happened and it was successful when it benefited both parties.

What trade has come to mean is that benefits accrue to the side with the power to set the rules of the game and the externalities accrue to the communities with the least power and to our planet.

But in those outside spaces of COP the talk was also about how we change the structures that perpetuate injustices and exploitation of people and of our home planet.

So if we want to change the system what can we do? We’re not likely to overthrow capitalism soon. So we need some working models of how to do things differently - how does Fair Trade strike you as a possibility for this?

David Graeber, the anthropologist,  defined direct action as ‘living as if you are already free’ – that is, using your own actions to bring about the future freedoms that you want to see. And, of course, Gandhi said something like this almost exactly a hundred years ago which has been paraphrased as “Be the Change you want to see in the world” - the theme for this year’s Fair Trade fortnight.

What ‘living as if you are already free’ meant to us at COP was to counter the overpricing of accommodation by hotels and Airbnb with our homestay network where 1200 Glaswegians offered space in their homes to activists. And by creating a platform for events that we open to everyone doing events from NGOs, faith groups, activists and other civil society groups. By bringing together groups that had venues available – upstairs rooms in pubs, church halls, community meeting rooms, and unused offices , if only for an hour, to offer them at cost price to campaigners and other NGOs. Repurposing unused shop front space as artist galleries. And by hosting a welcoming space for activists wherever they had travelled from to gather, discuss and also to plan action. 

Having read David Graeber since then I would recognise this as ‘living as if we were already free’ - seeing the ways the world worked, inflating hotel and AIrbnb prices, no venues affordable, and starting to do it differently. And of course the Fairtrade movement have been doing the same thing with trade for more than 30 years. Reframing trade as a mutually beneficial relationship of equals. Back to its origins you might say. 

Fair Trade resets the balance – Fair Trade is transgressive of capitalist norms of operating – it is something that is beneficial to both parties and is explicitly not exploitative. Where people come before profits (and not just in the marketing). Trade that is not extractive of human potential and our planetary abundance. We can see the economy that we don’t like and we can remake it – that is what Fair Trade has done.

Bringing back principles of partnership and equal partners – where both sides benefit and it adds value to communities and to planet.  We need a new model for trade for the future that will enable us to navigate the scale of change that is needed to deal with the climate crisis. What better than Fair Trade?

Annemarie Ward, CEO of Faces and Voices of Recovery UK, reflects on the spiritual journey that has anchored her tireless efforts to support those in the grip of addiction and change government policies that are failing them.

I embarked on my first pilgrimage to Medjugorje in June 2019 seeking nothing more than a bit of rest and a break from my routine. However, what I encountered was far beyond anything I could have imagined—so profound that I hesitate to even put it into words for fear of sounding irrational. Yet something extraordinary did happen. Upon returning to Glasgow, one phrase kept echoing in my mind: ‘You keep talking, we keep dying’. This haunting message became the driving force behind a campaign that has shaped my work and life ever since.

Over the past five years, the charity I work for, Faces and Voices of Recovery UK, has increasingly focused on urgent advocacy efforts. While we continue to celebrate recovery from addiction through our events, we have also taken a more active role in holding the Scottish Government accountable for the serious deficiencies in their drug and alcohol services and policy infrastructure, and established the UK’s first-ever addiction advocacy case worker service.

Despite substantial investment in harm reduction strategies such as substitute prescriptions, heroin-assisted treatment, and needle exchanges—what the industry often refers to as 'treatment'—there remains a stark lack of support for detox, community and residential rehab, and abstinence-based services…which are the services the public typically associated with the word ‘treatment’.  I believe this imbalance is a significant factor contributing to the alarming rates of drug and alcohol-related deaths.

Just recently, the Scottish Health Minister Neil Gray admitted that the government intends to allocate only 140 rehab beds for the entire country. This provision, they claim, is intended to serve 1,000 individuals annually, based on the unrealistic assumption that each stay would be limited to a mere six weeks. To suggest that 140 beds could address Scotland's severe drug addiction crisis is more than inadequate—it’s an outright scandal. Six weeks might barely scratch the surface of addiction recovery; it is far from sufficient to address the complex, deep-rooted issues that individuals face. True rehabilitation requires extended, intensive care and ongoing support, which this minimal provision utterly fails to deliver.
This gross underestimation by the government is not just a failure—it’s a deep betrayal of Scotland’s citizens. Rehabilitation isn’t a quick fix; it’s a long-term process that demands substantial investment in time, resources, and care. By setting such a low target, the government is effectively declaring that the lives of those struggling with addiction are not worth the necessary commitment.
The broader picture exposes a systemic failure in Scotland’s approach to addiction treatment. The focus appears to be more on managing numbers than on genuinely addressing the crisis. The idea that 140 beds could suffice in a country where 50,000 people are in addiction treatment each year is a damning indictment of the government's scant seriousness in tackling this issue.

When we call for more balanced investment, we often face fierce opposition, with some accusing us of being anti-harm reduction. But nothing could be further from the truth. Our goal is not to dismantle harm reduction but to ensure that every person struggling with addiction has access to the care that best suits their needs. The conversation should not be about choosing between harm reduction and abstinence/recovery, but rather about ensuring that both are available in a way that truly meets the needs of those we aim to help.

Exposing the industry’s shortcomings has undoubtedly stirred up a lot of anger towards me. I knew that speaking out would cause discomfort, but I underestimated just how deep the backlash would be. Yet, the truth needed to be brought to light. Challenging the status quo and highlighting the failings of a multi-million-pound industry that for too long have been overlooked is never easy, especially when it disrupts the comfort of those who profit from the existing system. I understand that my actions have made me a target for criticism and resentment, but my focus has always been on the greater good—advocating for those who are often forgotten and pushing for the changes that are so desperately needed. Particularly when the most vulnerable, living in our poorest communities, are dying in the greatest numbers. In Scotland, people in the most deprived areas are more than 15 times as likely to die from drug addiction compared to those in the least deprived areas.
Throughout this journey, my faith has been my steadfast anchor. There were moments when I felt so overwhelmed by the challenges I faced that I sought refuge in daily mass, drawing on the comfort and protection that only my faith could provide against the abuse and character attacks I endured. In those difficult times, we poured our energy into drafting what is now known as the Right to Recovery Bill—a response to the misleading narratives and divisive arguments that have obstructed meaningful progress in addressing Scotland’s addiction crisis. Although initially overlooked by some political parties, the bill was eventually embraced by the Tories and has since gained significant support. It is now poised to be debated in the Scottish Parliament, offering a crucial opportunity to ensure that both harm reduction and recovery-focused services are enshrined in law.

I have returned to Medjugorje on four occasions, including one deeply blessed four-week visit. My most recent trip was just last month, when I brought my son and his two flatmates to the Youth Festival. During those first few days, I experienced a profound sense of relief, as if a heavy burden I had carried for five years was being lifted. For years, I had felt compelled to fight and educate as many people as possible about this issue, but in Medjugorje, it felt as though that obligation was easing. It was a strange sensation, almost difficult to trust because the burden had been so heavy and the journey so lonely. I sought counsel from various spiritual directors, and they all agreed that I was no longer required to fight with the same intensity as before—that I could choose when and how to continue, rather than feeling it was my sole responsibility.

I often reflect on my first visit to Medjugorje, particularly the moment when I attempted to climb Apparition Hill for the first time. Overcome by the heat and discomfort, I decided to turn back and abandon the climb. As I began my descent, a beautiful young woman stopped me, visibly shocked by my decision to turn around, especially since she informed me that Our Lady was about to appear to one of the visionaries. For a brief moment, I wondered if she might be a bit mad, but I politely offered my excuses, explaining that I was too hot and sore, and turned to continue my descent.

Just then, she asked if she could ask me a couple of questions. The next thing I knew, a very large camera was suddenly in my face, operated by a strikingly handsome young man whose features were partly obscured by the camera. (Until that moment, I had never been asked to speak on camera) The beautiful woman then asked me two questions: why I had come to Medjugorje, and what I was prepared to do. The words that came out of my mouth felt as though they were spoken by someone else. I found myself begging our Lord to allow me to serve him, fully aware of my unworthiness.

At the time, my response surprised me, but now, looking back on how far I’ve come both spiritually and in this campaign and what happened next  I see clearly that God works in mysterious ways. Every time I’ve been asked to speak in front of a camera since that night on Apparition Hill, I think of the beautiful young man and woman from that moment, and somehow despite my fear and inadequacy, I always find the words to respond.  My relationship with Our Lady and Our Lord has deepened, evolving into one of trusted friendship and comfort. I continue to beg for the opportunity to serve, knowing that the burden I’ve carried is, thankfully, lifting and that others are stepping forward to share in this work.

As I reflect on this journey, I realise that it has been as much about my own spiritual growth as it has been about advocating for change. With the burden easing, I hope others will join me in carrying the weight, allowing us to continue this important work together.

It was both inspiring and painful to find myself alongside John Harvey at the recent Christian Peace Vigil at Faslane Naval Base.

The event, organised by Justice and Peace Scotland, served as an opportunity to reaffirm our Christian opposition to the existence of weapons of mass destruction on the site of the UK’s nuclear arsenal with prayer, hymn and reflection. Led by faith leaders Archbishop William Nolan, President of Justice and Peace Scotland and Archbishop of Glasgow; Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, Rev Dr Shaw Paterson and Bishop Andrew Swift, Bishop of Brechin Diocese, from the Scottish Episcopal Church.

John has been part of countless such gatherings over the decades. It inspires that the retired Church of Scotland minister and member of the Iona Community has never stopped bearing witness in his repudiation of nuclear weapons. It pains that this has meant John making his way to Faslane regularly since the first such assembly he brought together in 1968 - the year nuclear submarines docked in the Gare Loch, with the warheads for them stored at the nearby naval base in Coulport.

When John does so approaching the anniversary of the US dropping nuclear bombs on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, responsible for the deaths of an estimated 246,000 men, women and children - the 2024 vigil held almost 79 years after that unimaginable carnage - Mr Nii is on his mind.

A man who became his friend, Mr Nii was a Hiroshima survivor that John took to his first Faslane protest 56 years ago. “I did so to alert people to the true dangers of nuclear weapons,” he said. Mr Nii stayed with him and during his visit the pair attended a Glasgow Film Theatre screening of The War Game. A BBC 1965 docu-drama depicting a nuclear war and its aftermath, it caused such uproar within the Corporation and the government over being “too horrifying” that it was not screened on television until the mid-1980s. Mr Nii’s take was different, though. “When we left the cinema, I asked him what he thought of it and he said ‘very bad, very bad’”, John recalled. “I asked him why and he said: ‘it showed too many survivors’”.

Current nuclear weapons are understood to be 30 times more deadly than those dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It defies any belief in humanity to imagine there could be circumstances whereby any of the nine nuclear powers would consider justifications for their use, and the mass destruction of life and the environment that would ensue.

In a powerful address at the recent gathering, Archbishop Nolan lamented that such arsenals - and bases such as Faslane and Coulport - were being expanded, and called for governments to focus instead on re-establishing their commitment to the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons by preventing the spread of nuclear weapons technology and pursuing serious efforts towards disarmament. He demanded a recognition that these weapons, which many countries seek to ban via the UN, serve as no deterrent but rather perpetuate escalation. That those in power could see through the bogus perception of these weapons as a “comfort blanket” - even as moral arguments, and financial arguments, the UK’s renewal of its stock costing £300 billion, do not appear to be cutting through.

As people of faith, the Archbishop reminded us that we too have a special facet in our armoury. “All we can do is pray that our governments and politicians will see that these weapons serve no purpose at all; they don’t make our world more secure but less secure and waste precious human resources,” he said. “Pray the politicians who make the decisions will have a change of heart and cast away their comfort blanket and rid the world of these weapons of mass destruction.”

The Moderator implored that “our present is shaped by the past, our future is shaped by the present”. “Whenever we see images of the attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, whenever we see the devastation to human life, to animal and plant life, we are reminded of the need to care for God’s creation and work for peace,” he said.

Bishop Swift called on peacemakers to be “the prophetic voice” that cries out “not in our name” over the moral offence that is the existence and propagation of nuclear weapons. In a time when those in the global south go hungry and even those in our own country cannot afford to eat and heat their homes.

A thoughtful liturgy crafted by Fr David Stewart of the Jesuits and Rev Sheena Orr of the Church of Scotland, conveyed such messages to those present. A near 50-strong group that covered various religious faiths and none, and comprised all age groups, from teenagers to septuagenarians. With a closing prayer encapsulating the desire of all in attendance.:
Lead me from death to life, from falsehood to truth,
Lead me from despair to hope, from fear to trust,
Lead me from hate to love, from war to peace.