peter jensenI was amused to read in a comment on the Anglican Mainstream website that Archbishop Jensen of Sydney had accused me of “putting loyalty to my diocese above loyalty to Christ”. I don’t know if he did say this or, if so, why he said it or what he meant by it – but it did make me smile. To be dissed by Archbishop Jensen would be seen by many as a badge of honour.

What is interesting here is that bishops are supposed to be loyal to their diocese (that is, their clergy, parishes, people, etc) as part of their expression of their loyalty to Christ. That is why I will defend my lot against silly attacks from people who don’t know what they are talking about. Yesterday I confirmed nearly 40 people (mostly adults) who have come to Christian faith and commitment – none of them in evangelical churches. Being a bishop is brilliant simply because you get to see where God is at work, apparently sometimes breaking his own rules.

I wonder how Archbishop Jensen regards clergy in his own diocese who disagree with him or decide that loyalty to Christ means being disloyal to his diocese and him? I suspect I know the answer. To disagree with (or be disloyal to) him would be the same as being disloyal to Christ. And I thought ‘infallibility’ – by Popes or any other Archbishop – was not a good thing…

In this context there have also been mutterings about Anglican Mainstream itself being a misnomer. Surely AM should call itself something like Anglican Conservatives? Or do we need a new grouping called Mainstream Anglicans to give a home to all those who feel disenfranchised by AM stealing the term?

That would surely help our mission in and to the world…

(In case of doubt, that last comment was ironic.)

Jools Holland 001Jools Holland 002You cannot have more fun than standing for two hours in pouring rain listening to Jools Holland at Kew Gardens. I thought the Royal Albert Halls gigs were good, but thousands of people of all ages danced the evening away as if the sun was shining and the evening young. From little toddlers on parents’ shoulders to elderly adults on sticks, this was just fantastic fun.

Jools always has guest singers and tonight he had Louise Marshall, the inimitable (and very scary) Ruby Turner and the one and only Dave Edmunds. It is brilliant to hear I hear you knockin and Sabre Dance  – heard so often on record – played by the original as if he were a sixteen year old. The enthusiasm belied the guy’s age!

Jools Holland 009Jools Holland 007As the evening wore on the rain got harder. But the wonderful orchestra did their usual two encores and sent us off with the great ska original, Rico Rodriguez, growling out:

Enjoy yourself , it’s later than you think’ / Enjoy yourself while you’re still in the pink. / As years go by as quickly as a wink / Enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think.

We did. It was. And now for Sunday…

I am off with my wife to see Jools Holland at Kew Gardens this evening – hoping the rain holds off. Every time I see Jools ‘live’ I can’t help but cheer up and dance – which is a depressing image for my kids to contemplate.

There is something about the clip below that suggests how the church ought to be: maybe playing different tunes, but making an amazing sound together. And, of course, cheering up the world and not depressing it.

The good thing about blogging is that the conversation forces me to think through what I think I think in the light of other people’s perspectives on what they think I think. I have been critical of the launch of the Fellowship of Confessing Anglicans in recent posts and – as I don’t believe in playing games with words – have offered what have clearly been considered to be ‘robust’ observations. For that I do not apologise. Indeed, one of the things I get fed up with as a bishop is the generalised criticism that bishops don’t ‘lead’ or don’t ’speak out’. Of course, what usually lies behind these criticisms is an assumption that a bishop ‘leads’ by saying loudly what ‘I’ want to hear (and, by implication, does not lead if taking a different view from ‘me’) and is only ’speaking out’ when loudly agreeing with ‘my’ view on things.

But, given that I am happy to say what I think and take the flak, how do I respond to Andrew Carey’s response to my critique of FCA? Here is what he said:

However your posts on FCA will be perceived as pretty insulting really by your targets. There’s no qualification of what you’re saying. I always try to use the terms ’some’ and ‘many’, for example when imputing views to groups such as ‘evangelicals’ or ‘liberals’ because there’s always diversity. So it’s unfair to make implications about the honesty or integrity of people in FCA by extrapolating from a situation you were close to. Furthermore the idea that FCA supporters view you as unChristian or dodgy might be true of some but not others.

But you yourself also said that people tend to be more suspicious of those close to them (ie the same tradition). Does that explain your hostility and defensiveness as well as that of some of the FCA people you have encountered).

The unity thing is a serious question, given the fact that you’ve accused them of ‘fracturing’ the Church despite their denials of that. Answering a question with a question is all very well, but I’m not a bishop, and don’t have the specific gifts, responsibility and calling to the Church you have. You’re entitled to think me a hypocrite, though I don’t concede that I am on this particular issue, but I think that you and Graham Kings now both have an uphill struggle in your ministry with FCA-types now.

Is FCA a distraction? Well at a time when the views of someone like +Michael Nazir-Ali are seen as extremist when they were entirely acceptable only a decade or so ago, then there’s definitely a need for movements/organisations of this kind. I support loyal but robust protest in response to some trends both in society and the Church. FCA has the potential to a focal point for that. If they ever become separatist they’ll leave me behind.

Andrew has a point about me generalising and tarring all FCA people with the same brush – a brush shaped by particular experience of certain leading FCA people. I know there were many who went tothe FCA launch out of curiosity and that many of those present do not deserve the accusations of dishonesty that I have levelled. So, Andrew is right to draw attention to the generalised nature of my polemic and I plead guilty. There are many evangelicals who do not behave as others and who are not as arrogant or economical with the truth as others.

But it is important to understand where I stand. I am an evangelical bishop whose concern is to equip, encourage and resource my clergy and parishes to learn, believe and promote the gospel of Jesus Christ. This means engaging robustly and with a confident humility in the public space, representing and arguing for the truth of God in Jesus Christ. But I also believe that the church is there to create the space in which all people can find (in different ways and at different paces) that they have been found by God. The glorious Diocese of Southwark is one in which this mission is promoted, defended and in which I have had nothing but encouragement in the six years I have been here.

My experience in the Diocese of Southwark has, however, taught me that there are those who claim to be ‘biblical’ whose behaviour is not. These same people talk down the Church of England and the Diocese of Southwark all the time. They also are not hesitant about behaving in ways that cannot be described other than as dishonest. Consider, for example, the way the ‘irregular ordinations’ were planned for and executed a couple of years ago – raising questions that were never pursued by outsiders as they should have been. And, the lot of the Bishop of Southwark? He played (and continues to play) a completely above-board straight bat in the face of what looks to me like subterfuge. So, he waits three months for a response from Richard Coekin on (a) processing Coekin’s curates for ordination and (b) regularising the Co-Mission (known locally as ‘the Diocese of Dundonald) church plants within our church-planting guidelines… only to get a letter giving him two weeks’ notice (conveniently ending at the launch of FCA) and threatening him with consequences if Tom didn’t agree to Coekin’s demands.

Now, how would you describe that?

So, I hope that explains my personal anger in the face of what then seems to me to characterise a driving element in FCA. Does this blind me to other elements? Possibly, yes. And I will give further thought to that.

And maybe that is why I consider FCA to be ‘fracturing’ of the church and do not believe their denials. I see it at close quarters and I don’t like what I see. If I didn’t take the Bible so seriously, I wouldn’t have so many problems with those who claim the loudest to be ‘biblical’. But, to be on the receiving end of criticism with such blatant hypocrisy is, I think, worthy of exposure. So, I don’t retract my criticisms of FCA, their direction or what lies (politically) behind them, but I do accept the criticism that I have generalised where I should have been more nuanced.

I don’t accept that Graham Kings and I have any more uphill battle with ‘FCA types’ now than we did before. I would further note that in terms of ministry in this diocese no distinction is made between clergy of any ecclesiological complexion. I visit every parish on the same basis – whether they be liberal catholic, conservative evangelical, charismatic, ‘anglican’, Forward in Faith or anything else. I look to resource, encourage, etc without distinction and regardless of my own views on their stances on particular issues. I also make myself available to them without discrimination.

But, it needs to be noted that many ‘ordinary’ evangelicals keep asking for leadership against the FCA types. Evangelicals do not take kindly to finding churches planted in their parishes on the basis that ‘there is no Bible-based ministry there’. How should I respond to these requests from evangelicals? I would be interested to hear advice – when the bishop is called to be the focus of unity (among other things).

As for Michael Nazir-Ali, I have known him for a long time and have massive respect for him. I don’t agree with him on some issues, but his integrity is never something I would question. I don’t agree with his stance on FCA and associated matters, but that is a difference of view and not a dispute about integrity.

This has got long enough. I can amplify other matters separately, if anyone is interested. But I hope this is an adequate response to Andrew Carey and provides a little more background to my own position.

rupertmurdochI woke this morning to the news that journalists on a national newspapers have been systematically and repeatedly bugging people’s private phones.

I also am wondering if I should ever go for meetings at Church House, Westminster, again. According to the Bishop of Fulham at last week’s FCA launch, ‘Satan is alive and well and resides at Church House’.

And I am intrigued that the Queen has been dragged into the FCA business.

So, I have three areas of questioning running round my head:

1. Will the News International publish a list of every person whose phone was hacked? And, picking up another theme of recent bloggings, will journalists now push for an independent Press Complaints Commission – having insisted on such scrutiny for MPs?

2. Will the Bishop of Fulham tell us which bit of Church House is home to Satan – and give us names? I want either to avoid the said person or tackle him/her. I think we should be told. (And why did Archbishop Jensen or anybody else not question this bizarre statement at the time?)

3. It is clear, now that Anglican Mainstream has published the correspondence with Buckingham Palace, that the ‘letter from the Queen’ was no such thing and did not offer support to FCA. Why, then, did Chris Sugden (when being interviewed about this specific point on Sunday on BBC Radio 4) not simply deny it rather than leave the question of royal support open – suggesting that this would be revealed at the launch the next day and, therefore, setting off speculation and reaction?

I wonder if any of these questions will get answers? I have to admit, however, that the only one of importance to the real world is the first.

Yesterday I spent most of the day at the College of St Barnabas in Lingfield, Surrey. I probably spent 20 minutes less of the day than intended because someone had turned the countryside signposts around and I kept driving the wrong way down leafy country lanes. It was very beautiful but very frustrating.

Whenever I use the word ‘college’ in relation to St Barnabas, people ask about the curriculum and how many students there are. But this is not that sort of a college. St Barnabas was set up a century ago and still fulfils its purpose of providing retirement care for clergy and their spouses. Many residents are elderly and some bereaved of their husband or wife. There is an excellent provision of nursing care for those who are ill or in declining health. Current residents include the wonderful John Stott and Tom Smail, both of whom I was able to speak with yesterday.

What strikes me here is that there is a collection of elderly clergy from across the spectrum who live, eat, worship and serve together according to their ability. But they bring together the accumulated experience and wisdom of decades of service. I met a couple of bishops and other clergy who served overseas and retired here with almost nothing to their name. Their’s was a life of sacrifice and self-giving with no expectation of reward. There are evangelicals, catholics and some who don’t know where they stand. It is a wonderful mixture of what a real church is: great variety, but a common life as Christians.

In a culture that worships youth, beauty and success, here is a community that bears all the power and dignity of age, the beauty of common discipleship and the success of ‘resting’ after a lifetime of service to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I came away – again – humbled by having been in their company and feeling that I have an awful long way still to travel before I get to where some of them already are.

College of St Barnabas

While I was away in Kazakhstan last week a fire took the lives of six people (inlcuding three children) in Camberwell. Camberwell is in my diocese, but not in my Episcopal Area. I had followed the awful news in the media coverage, but only last night got some human detail.

Tom ButlerThe business of the Southwark Diocesan Synod (which meets three times each year in Waterloo) begins with a Presidential Address by the Bishop of Southwark, Dr Tom Butler. In last night’s address he noted questions arising from the launch of the Fellowship of Confessing Anglicans before going on to describe the tragic fire in Camberwell. Would the FCA be a (yet another) ‘fellowship’ of like-minded Christians within the Anglican Communion or would it really be the root of a different church?

When Tom went down to Camberwell in the aftermath of the fire he met Anglican clergy of different complexions who were working hard and long to provide facilities for evacuated and traumatised residents, checking names against lists in order to reassure separated residents that their relatives were OK, offering counselling and other support, opening buildings for very practical purposes and ‘being there’ for whoever needed them. Tom’s point was that nobody asked if these clergy were Forward in Faith, FCA, New Wine, Anglican, Baptist or anything else – they were simply Christians doing what the Christian Church is there for. Without spelling it out, Tom celebrated clergy by name who occupy very different positions in relation to some of the dividing issues of the day and who wear very different labels.

The point is that we need to keep our perspective clear, recognising that internal arguments might be important to those engaged in them; but, to those for whom the church exists (that is, those who do not necessarily belong) these are an irrelevance in the face of life’s serious challenges in complex communities. Sometimes being simply Christian is what we are called to be, with the other stuff put to one side for a while.

This reminded me of a quotation by Timothy Garton-Ash on Monday’s Start the Week discussion on BBC Radio 4 (although I don’t remember who he was quoting). He defined a nation as:

a group of people united by a shared hatred of their neighbours and a common misunderstanding of their own past.

I will be interested (when I get the head space to do so) to think through whether this phenomenon could be explored in relation to understanding the contemporary church. Comments welcome…

Yesterday, having just returned from Kazakhstan, I went with my family to support a friend being ordained in Leicester Cathedral. We left Croydon at 6.30am and got to Leicester in time to park the car and look for a place to get something to eat or drink. The first place we came across was a Wetherspoons pub, already open at 9.00am, and already with a number of people drinking. We felt a bit over-dressed while eating the fry-up and drinking coffee. By the time we left (around 9.45am) one bloke was on his third pint  and others were not far behind.

At 9.15am on a Sunday morning. What was about to happen in the Cathedral seemed a million miles away from this pub and its early boozers.

beerToday, while the Fellowship of Confessing Anglicans (FOCA) was being launched in London, I was doing a Parish Visit in a suburban parish. I have 102 parishes and visit each one for a day each four years (plus loads of other visits for services, etc., of course). These visits enable me to know the parishes better and gives the parishes access to me for whatever purpose they wish. Furthermore, I get the opportunity to encourage and raise questions/challenges about worship, mission, etc. The main thrust at the moment is questioning how each church can create the space in which people can learn to read and understand the Bible, growing confident in the content of Christian faith in order to be able to communicate and defend the faith.

While in this parish I spent some time in an open meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous and listened to many stories of grief and hope. What characterised this meeting was the raw honesty of those who spoke, the respectful attention of those who listened, the acceptance of failure and encouragement to try again, the promise of real fellowship in a common struggle. Here there was no posturing, no game playing, no self-righteousness or superiority, no judgment, no accusation. There was an articulated acceptance of a common condition, an explicit need for mutual support and a genuine mutual compassion.

To me it felt like what the church should be.

When I went into the room I got talking to a woman who questioned my presence there. She had had a bad experience of the church and my clerical collar and pectoral cross spoke to her primarily of authority and judgment. I held my cross and indicated that the man who was crucified on it was loved by those who knew their need and weren’t afraid to acknowledge it – and was crucified by those who put the purity of their religious institution above the signs of God’s presence and kingdom in their midst. We are all in need of confession, mutual support and God’s healing grace – alcoholics do not have a monopoly on this, but they are the most honest people you can meet.

It also got me wondering whether some of us have a ‘faith addiction’ in the sense that we fixate on elements of the faith, missing the broader point of it all and displaying the symptoms of addictive behaviour seen in other forms. Just wondering…

Anyway, I came home late tonight and have been reflecting on this. Should I have gone to the FCA launch? I know my credentials as a Christian and a bishop have been questioned, but that doesn’t worry me. I do not think that all in the Anglican garden is lovely and unproblematic. But I do think I chose well to be in a parish where the world is raw rather than in a meeting discussing protecting God from muckiness. I have come home to read again the Gospels and find that Jesus challenged the purity-lovers and healed those who had been excluded from the ‘church’, told that they did not count in God’s economy.

Given that the media have apparently ignored today’s launch, I have no idea what (if anything) happened. What I do know, however, is that while they were doing their holy stuff in London, I was seeing healing happen in a place where the Gospel is being lived out and struggled with on the ground. I was with some people whom I respect enormously for their courage and discipline – and for their love and compassion.

I think that is what Jesus looks like in the Gospels – and the church is called to look something like the Jesus we read about in the Gospels. So, regardless of the judgments of others who are (obviously) closer to God than I am, I will keep plugging away at encouraging the churches in their faithful ministry, trying to inspire them with a vision for the Gospel and opening up the Bible to and for them.

And I won’t worry too much about those who (in the words of Karen Armstrong I heard on the car radio on the way home) are ‘more concerned to be right than to be compassionate’ – or something like that.

Being a long way from home inevitably makes you reflect on domestic matters with a different perspective. Sitting in a Central Asian capital city, having been in conference with a vast range of world religions, the scandal of Christian division is all the more acute.

Waiting for my next appointment I was catching up with emails and read Bishop Graham Kings’ article on the Fulcrum website at http://fulcrum-anglican.org.uk/page.cfm?ID=437. The questions he poses are astute, but I doubt if he will get any response.

The Fellowship of Confessing Anglicans will be established on Saturday (as I understand it from a distance). This is a self-indulgent distraction from the real stuff of Christian mission in a fractured world that cries out for reconciliation. FCA is not needed, is a distraction and offers the world yet another example of Christian fracturing.

After the irregular ordinations in the Diocese of Southwark several years ago I asked a couple of those involved to show me where they find the biblical sanction for lying, misrepresentation and subterfuge. I have never had a reply. Despite protestations of innocence, the scheming behind FCA does not give us confidence that dodgy behaviour will receive the same biblical or ethical scrutiny as is applied to questions of sexual behaviour.

I don’t know who FCA is really for. I am not aware of evangelicals really wanting it and will be interested to see who joins the party. Graham Kings suggests that the take-up for this weekend has not been great – if so, that should not come as any surprise. Most evangelicals – it seems to me – just want to get on with the ministry and mission to which they are called as Anglicans and are fed up with schemes for fragmentation.

The intriguing conundrum that I cannot resolve is how Forward in Faith and Reform can unite despite such serious contradictions in their cultures, priorities and practices. It seems they can only do so with a massive dose of pretence that the world is not as it is: that there is no gay sub-culture in FiF’s constituency and lay presidency does not happen.

I hope Graham Kings’ questions will be answered and that his warnings will be heeded. Maybe, when I get back from Kazakhstan to the familiarity of England my perspective will change. But, sitting here and thinking about the world, some of these internal Anglican shenanigans do look like trumped up, self-indulgent and self-important side-shows.

Here is the text of my speech to the III Congress of Leaders of World and Traditional Religions in Astana, Kazakhstan, on Wednesday 1 July 2009:

The role of religious leaders in building peace based on tolerance, mutual respect and cooperation

 The role of religious leaders in building peace based on tolerance, mutual respect and cooperation is to use words as if they were fragile glass or weapons that kill.

I don’t want to repeat things that have already been said during this Congress, but will come back to the matter of words and language later. But, I wish to begin by bringing the greetings of the Archbishop of Canterbury to the Congress and to the President of Kazakhstan and his staff – with an expression of gratitude for the invitation to be here and for such generous hospitality. No opportunity for conversation between religious leaders can ever be wasted and the Third Congress of Leaders of World and Traditional Religions has the potential to create ever greater trust and affection between leaders from all over the globe.

The Archbishop has just returned from Istanbul where last week he convened the eighth meeting in the series of Building Bridges seminars focussing on discussion of the relationship between religion and science from Christian and Muslim perspectives. This has proved to be an excellent example of how religious leaders and scholars converse with each other in an intelligent, informed and respectful manner. And this is just one form of such dialogue in which relationships are built up and knowledge and understanding deepened.

Recently the Archbishop launched an initiative in London called ‘Presence and Engagement’. London is a vibrant, colourful and complicated city, bringing together people from every corner of the earth. The Church of England and other Christians are committed to serving in communities where the local population is no longer mainly Christian – being present and engaging openly and in love with people of other faiths. This is in no way a denial or watering down of Christian ministry, but a necessary response to and living out of the Christian gospel by those who claim to follow the Jesus we read about in the gospels.

At the launch of London Presence and Engagement the Archbishop spoke about the power of words and it is here that I wish to address our thinking in the context of our own congress here in Astana. For words matter enormously. And religious leaders are challenged to speak consistently, using language to articulate hope not only at forums such as this one, but also back home in the communities where our voice is heard and heeded. Empty words become a hypocrisy and that is not something religious leaders can embrace.

There are those who criticise events such as this for being ‘all talk, no action’. They say that this is just another example of where religious leaders talk about peace, but never get any further than merely talking. Well, I want to argue that talking is action. Talking together builds relationships of trust, exposes true motives and makes us responsible for what we do as a result of the conversations. The fact that we have spoken about the importance of talking together means that we can never pretend that the conversations never took place. That matters enormously.

During my speech at the Second Congress in September 2006 I said this:

It is vital that religious leaders come together, speak together, listen carefully to each other, and build relationships of mutual understanding and respect with each other. But it must not stop there. Once in a relationship with leaders of other religious traditions, it is imperative that honest and open conversation leads to action and the making of a difference. The challenge to the religious leader is to have the courage to stay with the conversation when the honesty is painful to bear and when the easy option would be to walk away. The promise is only that being a religious leader in such a context will be lonely, painful and personally costly. But it is also true that greatness in a leader is seen when the leader is big enough to stand in the middle, between people of two different worlds, and hold the two together… while being pulled apart by the exercise itself.

But there is a second element and it is simply that talking involves listening. And when it is religious leaders from different faiths and different parts of the world with their different cultures and histories who are thrown together, that act of listening can be difficult. It can be hard to listen to the perspective of someone whose position we find difficult to accept. But, we do listen because we are here together in the same shared space and cannot walk away. This encounter has the potential to change us – and through us to change those whom we lead and serve.

Perhaps it is this notion of ‘shared space’ that goes to the heart of our mutual concerns. After all, the planet is small, life is fragile and our faiths put upon us the responsibility to enable human beings, within their limited environment, to flourish as best they can. There is no other option open to us, despite the best efforts of some religious and non-religious people to create conflict wherever they can. No one who claims the voice of God can escape the obligation to serve the interests not only of his own community, but those interests that promote what has become known as ‘the common good’.

But, to go back to the power of words, we need to recognise that leaders in any sphere of life bear a very heavy responsibility for using words wisely and well. Words can inspire people to lay down their life for the sake of other people; but, they can also be used to conspire in destructiveness, cruelty and neglect of the poor, weak and vulnerable. Words can inspire, but they can also depress. They can give birth to new possibilities, but they can also kill the spirit as well as lead to the killing of bodies. Words can heal, but they can also very easily wound. Words – especially when allied to authority (especially religious authority) – can also either open up relationships or simply close them down, thus condemning us all to misery.

The prophets of the Hebrew Scriptures tell us vividly and frequently through the agony of loss that the people who claim to be God’s people must be the bearers of promise. When the world has closed down for many people who feel trapped in cycles of enmity, hatred or violence, it is the prophets – indeed, the poets – who craft the words that tease people’s imagination with the possibility of a new future, of new birth, of hope. When those in exile are taunted by their apparently victorious oppressors about the apparent futility of their faith, it is the poets who use words to paint pictures of hope, who conjure up images of newness and who keep alive the potential for a different future when such an idea simply looks and sounds absurd.

But such a poetic hope is not simply to be hijacked into defending the narrow interests of a few of ‘my own’ people. Rather, it is to be held out for all people and especially those who suffer whether through their own fault or that of others. Hope cannot be tamed or turned into a possession of those who happen to be most powerful at the moment. A Christian can do no other than lay down his own life and interests and rights if that is the cost that has to be paid for making reconciliation and peace even possible.

And this is why, I think, religious leaders have a vital role in ‘building peace based on tolerance, mutual respect and cooperation’. Not because these are nice or pleasant notions upon which all can agree, but because religious leaders have a massive responsibility to lead their communities towards hope – often, as was the case with the prophets of old, at enormous personal cost. Telling the truth and leading communities in right ways is never an easy option in a world which deems power as the greatest good.

However, religious leaders – as they are represented here in Astana – are only one part of the solution. The problem we have is how to cascade well-meant language down through our communities to every level of religious community and commitment. It is not enough for us to agree to statements at this level if this makes no difference to those who wish to fight or kill or impoverish those they consider to be either their enemy or just ‘different’. If we satisfy ourselves with friendly dialogue and the agreeing of a statement without working these ideas through our networks and communities – using the authority we have by virtue of the offices and roles we fulfil – then we have done worse than fail: we have merely played a religious game and our words will have been nothing other than an empty hypocrisy.

I am – as always – pleased that here in Kazakhstan in this Congress we are able to model relationships and dialogue based on tolerance (as a positive practice), mutual respect (which comes at cost) and cooperation (which demands action). I urge us all as religious leaders to take our words and language seriously, to become poets of hope for hopeless people and to remain dissatisfied until our own actions are effective in challenging, encouraging, persuading, changing and shaping behaviour throughout the communities for which we are responsible and accountable.

More could be said. But I want to strongly endorse the proposals made by Ishmael Noko in his speech earlier and ask that they be taken seriously in preparation for the next Congress in three years’ time.

Thank you.

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