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Image: ‘Honour the Word eternal And speak to make a new world possible’

13/10/2017
(Helder Camara)

 

Our new blog is written by Kathy Galloway and explores poetry and how it is often used in struggles for justice.  


Poetry almost always comes from an urgency, from a deep need to express and communicate something about the human condition, or at least, about our human condition. Perhaps it is something we are passionate about; some injustice we are angry about, some fear we are despairing about, some idea we are trying out; some hope, some dream, some joy, some hurt. We can do this in prose, of course, but poetry - either our own or that of others – touches us in a different way. The Welsh Quaker pacifist and socialist Waldo Williams interrogates the human condition:
 
What is it to be human?
What is living? Finding a great hall
Inside a cell.
What is knowing? One root
To all the branches.
What is believing? Holding out
Until relief comes.
And forgiving? Crawling through thorns
To the side of an old foe…
 (1)
Poetry is often thought of as a solitary art form. But in reality, it is more accurate to describe poetry as involving the interplay of solitude and community, of being alone and being with others. We may belong to a writers’ group; there are many of these, by no means all for professional writers, often local community groups. We may be writing in the context of a campaign or struggle, and therefore engaging with others as to the content and purpose of the writing. If we are writing performance poetry, then we are writing specifically for others and often will be writing with others, for theatre is, of all the arts, the most collaborative. We may be writing for worship or to explore in a new way the meaning that biblical or other religious texts have for us. There are many contexts in which poetry is a corporate activity.
 
And even where we are writing alone, our writing is shaped by our context; by our relationships, conversations, experiences, explorations. We are none of us sufficient unto ourselves, we are affected by others, and that shows up in our writing. As in all of life, in poetry we struggle to find the balance between community and solitude.
 
We don’t always get it right, but at its best, this tension is a creative one.
 
The power of words has always been recognised in political change and struggles for justice. The poet, the playwright, the journalist, have all been on the front line of liberation movements, for example, and are often the first to be imprisoned or otherwise silenced. They are dangerous because they question received wisdom, they present an alternative truth, they are nonconformists and dissenters. The Methodist poet Jan Sutch Pickard writes after her arrest for protesting against nuclear weapons:
 
At the gates
We shared Communion at the gates of Faslane:
one of the places in a broken world
where breaking bread and drinking bitter wine
is most relevant.
We shared it to remember
security – not of barbed wire and missiles –
but of God’s love
that risks all and gives life.
We shared, in a warm circle of believers.
But later, when we sat down on the cold road,
we found that the bread and the cup
had escaped, and were still out there in the crowd,
being shared, carefully, among people of all kinds:
this paradox
of pain and promise
being passed from hand to hand
in a broken world.

When people experience marginalisation and silencing, finding their own voices again is not just an act of resistance, it is an act of insistence. It is a way of stating, ‘you cannot continue to ignore and overlook us. We will be heard.’ And remarkably often, it is in poetry that people find their voices.
 
Kathy Galloway
 
1. Waldo Williams, “Pa Beth yw Dyn’ 1952 from Dail Pren, 1956
2. Jan Sutch Pickard, ‘At the Gates’ from ‘Faslane 2002’, in Out of Iona, 2003, Wild Goose Publications


Image: Stop The Arms Fair

06/10/2017

Henrietta Cullinan writes our latest blog on her participation in disrupting the recent Arms Fair in London.  Henrietta is an author, peace activist, member of the London Catholic Worker, and coordinator for the Faith and Resistance Network.


Day two of the Stop the Arms Fair week of action was #nofaithinwar day. Groups from all faith backgrounds committed to an hour each of prayer and protest outside the back entrance to the ExCel exhibition centre, in East London. Others such as Quakers, Put Down the Sword and the London Catholic Worker committed to disrupt the set up of the arms fair, through direct action.
 
Although I’d been arrested before, I’d never been part of a lock on, complete with arm tubes and carabinas. I was ready for physical discomfort, but dreading having to sit in a police cell, watching the walls zoom in and out of focus.
 
On the day I found myself calmly waiting, beside the A12, looking straight up at Erno Goldfinger’s Balfron Tower, a building at the centre of a row between local residents and developers. Then all of a sudden it was time to proceed and the nerves kicked in.
 
At the east gate of ExCel, by a pelican crossing, we tumbled out of the van, pulling our lock on boxes with us. Immediately a policeman was beside me. I lay down and put my arm straight in the tube. It was suddenly very cold. The sky was blazing down into my eyes. I wished I’d brought sunglasses. But every time I moved the police medic and arresting officer would ask me if I was alright.
 
In no time at all they’d cut me out and had me handcuffed in a van. After my companion was cut out the two of us were taken to something I later discovered is called a ‘custody suite’, on a commercial estate in Barking.
 
Once in the cell, I waited a bit to feel scared and vulnerable, but no such feeling came so I laid down and had a snooze. I did let the adrenaline give me some lovely euphoric thoughts as I enjoyed the solitude and the quite soft blanket. I spent the time making up letters to the Mayor of London, Sadiq Khan, asking him why he allows the arms fair to take place.
 
DSEI is a trade fair with a difference. One of the largest arms fairs in the world, with 34,000 visitors expected to attend, it has been described as ‘essentially a ‘Toys R Us’ for arms dealers’. (http://www.techradar.com/news/i-went-to-an-international-arms-fair-and-all-i-got-was-this-lousy-existential-dread)
 
It is the most visible side of the $1.7 trillion dollar spent on the military globally. As the UK looks for deals outside the EU, because of Brexit, it will turn to the global arms trade, which is booming. But the arms trade itself fuels conflict. Where there is already instability, the arms trade rushes in to provide weapons and exacerbates violence.
 
For people of faith there is the moral justification for direct action, to prevent a great sin from happening, and to warn our brothers and sisters that we are committing a grave sin in allowing this trade to continue. Our own taxes go to subsidising the arms industry. Missiles made in this country are sold to Saudi Arabia, which is using the very same missiles to bomb Yemen. Our products are causing bloodshed, famine and disease for Yemeni civilians.
 
It was very hopeful to see the numbers of who had come to support the week of action, from Europe, Yorkshire, Scotland. On the ‘no faith in war’ day, according to some, the protest was five times as big as two years ago.
 
Later I found out that the #nofaithinwar day, which included 5 abseilers hanging from a bridge, had kept the protest going for 4 and a half hours. Altogether by the end of the week there were over 100 arrests. The set up of the fair was said to be 4 days behind schedule.
 
As I write this I have already been to court once, where the magistrate and the prosecution were taken unawares by the sheer numbers; 15 pleading not guilty to willful obstruction of the highway. We have to go to court again in a weeks time, for a further case management meeting.
 
 For more information see:
 
 


Image: The burning desire for justice

29/09/2017

Our latest blog is personal view by Marian Pallister (author & vice chair of Justice and Peace Scotland) as a recent event led her to reflect on our need for justice.


I’m not quite sure how is happened, but suddenly the talk and workshop I was presenting at Lismore’s Taproot Festival morphed into an intense Justice and Peace meeting. It was a privilege to experience depth of feeling that filled the room in the island’s heritage centre - heart of a literary and music celebration. People really do care about this world’s injustices.

The essence of my talk was the importance of giving a voice to the voiceless. Today we have the means to capture the lives of what I call ‘real’ people, and I’ve spent a lifetime attempting to do that – the witness of women in Croatia who saw their husbands and sons slaughtered before their eyes; the matrons in Romania blamed and belittled for the pitiful state of the country’s orphans, while the real responsibility lay with a dictator who denied the orphanages funding; the dead-eyed girls violated in Bosnia’s rape camps; the dying in Africa denied the drugs that kept alive HIV patients in the developed world.

More recently, I’ve written social histories, and the more research I do into the past, the more I understand the importance of those ‘real’ witnesses to the world’s events. But when there are no voices, there is no real memory of the work conditions, the hardships, the attitudes and prejudices. And then there can be no evidence on which to base change to achieve justice.

At the Lismore event, I had told the story of a four, or perhaps five times great grandfather of mine who drowned in a mining accident after a sudden flood in one of the coal seams. A newspaper report from the early 1800s gave the basic details , but what did his wife think when they brought home his belongings? Did they tell her that when they recovered the body a couple of weeks after the incident, the body was so rotted by the water that his feet came away in his shoes? Shoes – not boots. No steel toecaps.

I also read out the witness statements of men who gave evidence of a fatal accident at a lead mine in Strontian. This evidence moves me to tears, even though I have worked with it for several months as I got together my next book, which is a history of mining in Argyll. It moved others, too. The voice of a miner speaking across more that 160 years, telling us that the foreman laughed when he suggested he moved the rock that caused the fatality. That the danger of this unstable rock had been mentioned time and again. That the team was told to go ahead and blast a tunnel right in the path of the rock. The words of the dying man as he lay beneath the stone.

Health and safety gone mad? That phrase makes my blood boil – and clearly this rare voice of a man involved in such a situation (most of our history is told by those in charge, those who could write letters and reports and tell their own version of a situation to keep their own hands clean) sparked the passion for justice within the audience.

The Piper Alpha disaster, the Thalidomide tragedy, the injustices stirred by vocabulary that lead to crimes of hate against refugees and migrants – these and more came tumbling out. The Gaelic poet and academic Donald Meek sat to my right, the poet and novelist Norman Bissell was across the room, but it was the rest of the folk, the ‘real’ folk, whose voices rang out seeking justice in poetry and prose. 

Every injustice deserves to be voiced and to be heard. And the truth of the injustices can only really be told by those who experience them. It’s our job to listen – and put our faith into action to sort the situation.




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