Woolgathering in North East England: Michael Sadgrove's Blog: Thoughts on Brexit Day

This is the best piece I've seen on the spirituality of the decision to leave the EU. If we are sad, today, as the UK leaves, we should take time to grieve. This is a bereavement for many and, to grieve healthily, we need to express our true feelings. We are not helped to do so (and maybe are not helping ourselves when we join in) by the jingoism of either triumph or disappointed anger all around us. Michael invites us to deep lament where our energies may be renewed and redirected toward working positively among the uncertainties that lie ahead. 


Woolgathering in North East England: Michael Sadgrove's Blog: Thoughts on Brexit Day: This is one of the hardest days of my life.  Brexit Day feels like a kind of dying. Born as I was of mixed parentage, to a native Ger...

Speaking Up: 75 Years After Auschwitz

Yesterday, I went for a swim and a sauna. It's usually a pleasant, relaxing experience with, often, an interesting chat to someone. However, I found myself sharing the sauna with five men and another woman. There was an exchange of what you might call political banter going on. I sat and listened to many things I disagreed with. Then came 'the trouble with the National Health Service is all these f*** foreigners are coming here and using it and not paying a penny..." and  'Boris is going to get it sorted and send them all packing' and 'you'll be able to walk into a pub and not hear b*** gibberish spoken in your own country.'

The other woman piped up, 'I don't think you can say that all foreigners are bad.' I tried, 'A lot of people from other countries are on the staff of the NHS, doing much needed jobs.' But I could feel her nervousness and I knew my stomach was knotted as we listened to more diatribes about foreigners and refugees and, yes, women 'who have never had it so good.' It's not easy to stand up for your principles when you are outnumbered by people in close proximity who are loudly and forcefully shooting down what you say in a manner that feels slightly threatening. I don't think we did very well, but we did try.

Today, I've listened to the speeches by survivors of Auschwitz on the 75th anniversary of the liberation of the camp by Soviet soldiers. 1.1million Jews, Roma, Polish citizens, homosexuals and Soviet prisoners of war were horribly murdered there. As Marian Turski (a survivor) said, 'Auschwitz did not suddenly fall from the skies'. He was quoting something the Austrian President had said to him that had helped him articulate what he felt. The persecution of Jews, homosexuals, Roma and the disabled happened bit by bit, slowly, slowly, a tiny loss of freedom here (no sitting on these benches), a tiny loss of opportunity there (you have to shop after 5pm), a licence to be derogatory (well it's only them, they don't really matter, they never integrated properly). Turski  described how, as a child he observed this process take a hold until such views became part of normality for the perpetrators, the witnesses and the victims.

Eventually the European Jews were crying out for somewhere to flee to safety. Yet nearly every country either rejected them or severely limited the numbers they would accept. 'And that was the point at which Hitler knew he could build his death camps.' The world didn't really care.

Marian Turski spoke of an eleventh commandment that issues from the Shoah (Holocaust). 'Thou shalt not be indifferent.' When you hear lies, when you see governments infringe civil liberties, when you see politicians erode human rights, you must speak out. 

Another survivor, Elza Baker, a Roma, said, 'In a time when minorities have to fear again I can only hope that everyone will stand up for democracy and human rights.' Auschwitz did not fall from the skies. Something similar could happen again. Primo Levi wrote, 'This happened which means it may happen again which means it may happen somewhere in the world.' Another Holocaust begins when we turn a blind eye to the erosion of the rights of minorities, when we harden ourselves against the humanity of people who are different from us, when we denigrate groups of people as 'all corrupt' or 'all bad' and, even jokingly, scapegoat them for our own troubles.

I fear we live in changing political times. Several of the survivors alluded to this. Only last week the safeguards for child refugees in the EU Withdrawal Agreement were voted down by a majority of 342-254 in the House of Commons. This probably affects about 3,000 refugee children who need to be reunited with families in the UK. A tiny number, yet think of the unspeakable misery of separation and the damage being done to young lives. There is a list of the MPs who voted to remove these safeguards here (see bottom of article).

Currently, the Government has issued a consultation document on 'unauthorised encampments' proposing amendments to the trespass laws that will criminalise the lives of Roma, gypsies and travellers, in effect, leaving them with nowhere to live. Even the police appear to oppose the implementation of new laws saying that the current ones suffice. The Government's document can be seen  here and a Guardian article by George Monbiot explaining it more fully here. Parliamentary scrutiny has effectively been reduced by the Government's somewhat cavalier approach to committee work, its tendency to engage in secret negotiations, its tendency not to publish the detail of proposed policies or answer questions in detail and, ultimately, its enormous majority. 

Last week the Church of England bishops issued a statement about civil partnerships and marriage here. The statement makes clear the continued official position of the church which (though somewhat confused) denies the provision of rites for the blessing of civil partnerships or the marriage of same sex couples (paras.17 & 18). Although the bishops acknowledge that there is dissent within the church on the question of recognising and supporting same sex relationships, they continue to uphold as mainstream their rejection. This appears to me to be another of those 'small voices' that normalises or allows the possibility of the objectification and exclusion of a particular group of people who are spoken about, not with.

I was moved by the co-incidence of yesterday's conversation in the sauna and today's Holocaust Memorial to return to a question that has haunted me ever since I read the Diary of Anne Frank as a 10 year old. Would I have spoken up for the Jews when others were abusing them? Would I have stood with them? Would I have refused to join in taunting them? Would I have endangered myself to help them? Would I have hidden anyone who was being hunted? 

I don't know. We none of us know until we are faced by an ugly situation. Judging by my reaction in the sauna, I might have tried tentatively and given up rather lamely. I can see that today, perhaps even more than in the recent past, there is a need to practise those little habits of speaking out, challenging unfounded blame, contradicting hate speech, lobbying for what you believe in, identifying and working with others who are concerned about the right of every human being to be respected, treated with dignity, freed to speak their mind and allowed go about their legitimate business and way of life.

Do not be silent when minorities are belittled or attacked.
'Thou shalt not be indifferent.'

I hope I have quoted the words of the survivors at the 75th Holocaust Memorial correctly. Some were translated by interpreters and they were written down by me at the time of hearing. I apologise if I have not got the exact words.