More than Justice
This was written for the Church Times in May 2009.
So which of us has not backed the Gurkha campaign, or nodded consent every time Joanna Lumley spelt out their case? For weeks, the public mood has been overwhelmingly in favour of their right to settle in the UK, and victory last Thursday came not a day too soon.
The anatomy of the successful campaign has been minutely examined. Of course there was the combination of glamour, colour and courage, with the striking visual impact of a beautiful celebrity flanked by ageing Nepalese war veterans. Then, the personal link through Lumley’s father who fought alongside the Gurkhas during the Second World War, was a media winner, and gave the campaign weight and authenticity. Public perceptions of the soldiers themselves as noble, altruistic, brave and loyal despite their treatment, highlighted the injustice of their present situation. And the current disrespect for politics and politicians no doubt increased the public outrage, and made this the right campaign at the right moment.
But now that the cameras have packed up and the cheers have stopped, what will the campaign leave behind? Certainly, a just outcome for brave people who risked their lives for the country they now want to live in, and a satisfaction that Britain can actually do the right thing when it has a mind to. But I hope there might be something more, something less headline-grabbing, perhaps, but crucially important for the way we do public affairs.
For me, two other things made this campaign different from most. The first was the overriding sense that legality must be brought into line with morality. Although it was legal to exclude Gurkhas from residency rights, being legal did not make the situation moral. For morality is more profound, embedded in a deep sense of what, in Lumley’s words is ‘the great and good thing to do.’ So the battle for the Gurkhas was being fought not just at the level of individual rights but at this much more foundational level of what constitutes universal morality.
The second thing was the tone of the campaign. It was so different from the strident, petty, point-scoring self-righteousness which has become part of our political consciousness. Instead, courtesy, graciousness, willingness to praise those who listened and an affirmation that the decision-makers would do right became the hallmark of the celebrity’s response. Was this a clever media strategy? Perhaps, but it demonstrated also a willingness for co-operation and trust rather than confrontation and cynicism. After the Home Secretary broke the news the contrasts in communication were huge. Opposition politicians rushed to make political capital, sneering at climbdown and ‘public embarrassment’, triumphing that the government had been dragged ‘kicking and screaming’ to make this decision. Joanna Lumley simply said thank you, and enveloped the judiciary, the government, the media and the public in a warm blanket of gratitude and praise.
If the success of this campaign simply reinforces celebrity culture or triggers more political gloating, its triumph will be tinged with failure. For it could challenge us much more deeply. It could help us glimpse a New Testament vision which puts law in the context of the demands of morality and urges us to search our consciences. It could help us to see what is meant by not bearing false witness, but speaking of opponents with fairness and truth. It could even help us see the effectiveness of St Paul’s advice: to let our communication be full of grace and seasoned with salt. If this justice campaign brought new attitudes into our culture, it would be even greater victory for the Gurkhars
Cambridge May 2009
