Westminster Abbey 15 April 2005

Opening gathering for the Wake Up to Trade Justice all-night vigil

The Readings

Opening Reading – Damian Lewis and Adjoa Andoh delivered extracts from The Peasants’ Revolt of 1381 and The Pan-African Congress of 1945.  

DAMIAN: My good people, things cannot go well till everything be made common, and there are neither peasants nor gentlemen, but we shall all be united together, and the lords shall be no greater masters than ourselves. What have we deserved that we should be kept thus enslaved? What reasons can they give to show that they are greater lords than we, save by making us toil and labour, so that they can spend? They are clothed in velvet and soft leather furred with ermine, while we wear coarse cloth; they have their wines, spices and good bread, while we have the drawings of the chaff, and drink water. They have handsome houses and manors, and we the pain and travail, the rain and wind, in the fields. And it is from our labour that they get the means to maintain their estates. We are called their slaves, and if we do not serve them readily, we are beaten. And we have no sovereign to whom we may complain, or who will hear us, or do us justice.

ADJOAH: The delegates believe in peace. How could it be otherwise, when for centuries the African peoples have been the victims of violence and slavery?

We are determined to be free. We are not ashamed to have been an age-long patient people. We continue willingly to sacrifice and strive. But we are unwilling to starve any longer while doing the world’s drudgery, in order to support by our poverty and ignorance a false aristocracy and a discarded imperialism.

We condemn the monopoly of capital and the rule of private wealth and industry for private profit alone. We welcome economic democracy as the only real democracy.

Therefore we shall complain, appeal and arraign. We will make the world listen to the facts of our condition. We will fight in every way we can for freedom, democracy and social betterment.

DAMIAN: Let us go to the King, and tell him of our slavery; and tell him we shall have it otherwise, or else we will provide a remedy ourselves. And if we go together, all manner of people that are now in bondage will follow us, with the intent to be made free. And when the King sees us, we shall have some remedy, either by justice or otherwise.

Reading - Voices from the South – Trade testimonies read by Bonnie Greer and Ben Okafor

BEN:

My name is Stephen Owusu Aduomire. I come from Sunyani in south-west Ghana where I live with my wife and children.  

I grow maize on 5 acres and the other vegetables on one acre. In a good year I can get about 50 bags of maize. The maize I grow is for both human consumption and for chicken feed.

Sometime between 1990 -94 the government stopped giving us a subsidy for fertilisers. I heard on the radio it was because of changes in farming being forced on us by the IMF.

Now I have to take a loan from the money-lenders to buy seed, fertiliser and other inputs.  Depending on the money-lender I can pay between 50% and 100% interest.

If the price of inputs rises and the price of maize falls I sell at a loss. I just can’t afford to pay back my loan. I don’t know how much I will receive at the end of my labours Meanwhile, the imported yellow maize coming from outside the country affected us very badly as the price for our maize went down.

This year I was in hospital for an operation and had to pay for the medical treatment. I had to borrow more money because I couldn’t work in that time and I had to feed my family and pay school fees.  Now I’m suffering from having to pay the hospital fees. I just can’t afford it. It is very painful. If I had an alternative to earn a living I would finish being a farmer.

Now, two of my children are sick but I can only afford to send the one I think is worse to the hospital for treatment. The IMF and World Bank are killing us softly – we will die soon.

We are prisoners. We are suffering. We are human beings. We want to help ourselves. Whatever the rich countries do they must consider making it fair for all.

BONNIE:

Before Lee Kyung Hae left Korea to meet his death in Cancun, Mexico, he visited his wife's grave and mowed his lawn. Then, on September 9th, along with fellow Korean farmers, he carried a symbolic coffin to the World Trade Organization meeting in the city.  As they walked, he delivered his political will and testament. The following day - Chusok Day (the date that commemorates the dead in Korea) - he climbed the police barricade which separated the campaigners from the palatial meeting place of the WTO, addressed the crowd, and plunged a small Swiss Army knife into his chest. He was wearing a sign that said: "The WTO Kills Farmers."

In 1999, Lee Kyung Hae had lost his farm to foreclosure by the bank. On thirty separate occasions he had protested with hunger strikes. He had been elected to his state legislature three times as a farmer representative, yet none of his efforts succeeded in defending farmers from free trade.

Just before his suicide, Lee Kyung Hae distributed a statement to reporters and some of the 15,000 small farmers from dozens of countries who were there to protest at the WTO meeting and the likelihood that decisions taken there may prove ruinous to their livelihoods and way of life. 

He said: "My warning goes out to all citizens that human beings are in an endangered situation. That uncontrolled multinational corporations and a small number of big WTO Members are leading an undesirable globalization that is inhumane, environmentally degrading, farmer-killing, and undemocratic. It should be stopped immediately."

"Since massive importing of rice, we small farmers have never been paid over our production costs; what would be your emotional reaction if your salary dropped to a half without understanding the reason? Farmers who gave up early have gone to urban slums. Others who have tried to escape from the vicious cycle have met bankruptcy due to accumulated debts.  For me, I couldn't do anything but just look around at the vacant houses, old and eroding. Once I went to a house where a farmer abandoned his life by drinking a toxic chemical because of his uncontrollable debts. I could do nothing but listen to the howling of his wife. If you were me, how would you feel?"

The Parable of Dives & Lazarus (Justin Butcher) read by Pete Postlethwaite

There is an old, old story in my mind
My mother told me once upon a time;
Who told it her, and when, I cannot say -
But it was first told long ago, and far away.

The story tells of heaven, and of hell,
Of two men: one lived badly, one lived well.

The first was rich, and lived in fine estate;
Lazarus, the other, lived at his gate.

The first, named Dives, feasted every day,
While Lazarus ate the scraps that came his way.

The rich man dressed in finest purple attire
The poor man's skin was sore, and burned like fire.
The dogs that scavenged round the palace doors
Alone would pity him, and lick his sores.

At length poor Lazarus died, gave up the ghost,
And flights of angels from the heavenly host
Came down to sing him to his rest on high -
And Lazarus, free at last, was glad to die.
In Abraham's bosom, free from pain and fear
His sores were healed with laughter and with tears.

And Death came knocking too at Dives' door,
Who comes alike to take both rich and poor;
And Dives, when he woke from Death's dread spell,
Awoke in pain and found himself in Hell.

He cast about with anguished shouts to see
What way he might escape this agony,
And, glancing aloft to the heavens far-off he spied
Old Abraham, with Lazarus at his side.

The wretched ghost let forth a desperate yell,
Heard faint above the clamouring din of Hell
By those in Heaven; and Abraham gave ear
To hear that hoarse, half-human scream of fear:

"Old Abraham! My Father, hear my plea!
I burn in bitterest pain! Have mercy on me!
Send Lazarus there to bear a single drop
Of water thence, that might for an instant stop
The searing fire that flames throughout my breast,
And from my pain grant one brief moment's rest!"

But Abraham replied, "My child, recall
How you, throughout your mortal span, had all
The richest gifts that any man desires,
And think, now your flesh shrivels in the fires,
How Lazarus lay, day after day, with sores
That burned and bled, licked by the dogs - too poor
To gain your notice, lying outside your gate -
Though he now rests in peace, it is too late
For you to right these wrongs, or save yourself;
And now between your world and ours a gulf
Is fixed, a chasm none can ever cross."

Then Dives wept anew for his dread loss
And said, "At least, my Father, let him go
Again unto the world of men, to show
My kin who live yet in their sin how they
May mend their ways, lest they should come one day
Unto this place of torment in their turn."

But Abraham replied, "Your kin must learn
To live by Moses and the prophets of old."
And Dives said, "But if my kin were told
By one sent from the dead, they would repent."

Old Abraham said, "Even if a man were sent
Back from the dead, if they will not take heed
Of Moses and the prophets, nor indeed
Will they take note of any other word."

How is it, since this story first was heard
Two thousand years ago in Galilee,
That Lazarus today is still not free?

How comes it that he lies still at our gate?
How many more millennia must he wait?

Voices From The South – trade testimonies (2) read by Bonnie Greer    

My name is Palaniamma.  I live in Thiruvallur district in Tamil Nadu in India. I am married and have 3 children Manimaran (14 yrs.) Divya (12 yrs.) Hariprashant (11 yrs.).

I used to work in a garment factory.  It was hard work and I used to do the work of three people.  There were lots of deadlines to meet and we were exploited.  I worked in the factory for 4 years.  I had to sit in a small airless room for over 8 hours – I used to get stomach cramps and feel dizzy.  If we didn’t finish our piece of work we had to stay on an extra two hours.  I earned 700 rupees per month (nine pounds and thirty three pence) and my family had to live on this.

The shortage of water is a problem in many villages as a result of privatisation and diversion of resources to big companies who are being  lured  with offers of tax concessions and unlimited use of water. 

We sometimes used to buy bottled water but now realise that our own supplies of water are being re-packaged and marketed and sold back to us.  We are not standing for this anymore.  In our village the water motor is turned on for an hour in the morning and an hour in the evening – often it is just a steady trickle.  It takes us a long time to queue and fetch water for our own use.

Through the Women’s Collective sangam, I have taken a loan and set up a small business making incense sticks.  My mother and a couple of other sangam members are part of this co-operative.  Incense sticks are used for prayerful purposes in most Indian homes and cut across the religious divide, so it’s a good market.

Training in leadership and confidence building is offered through the Women’ s Collective Sangams. We learn more about the impact of globalisation at village level and how to speak out at public meetings.  We also have the opportunity to meet with other women and discuss common issues.  We have learned that our Government is also in debt to the World Bank.  Even an unborn child is a debtor and we were not aware of this before.

I have gone through a great deal, but with new-found confidence I’m able to overcome my difficulties.  This has been largely due to the exposure that the Women’s Collective has afforded me.  It has empowered me and enabled me to act.  There are several other women like me and I would like to play my part in helping them to see that they can overcome the obstacles, be empowered and challenge situations that are oppressing us.

Extract from The Fever (Wallace Shawn) read by Vanessa Redgrave

All right. Go ahead. Say it.

The life I live is irredeemably corrupt. It has no justification. I keep thinking that there’s this justification that I’ve written down somewhere, on some little piece of paper, that I can’t remember what’s on the piece of paper, but that it’s sitting in the drawer of some desk in some room in some place I used to live. But in fact I’ll never find that little piece of paper, because there isn’t one, it doesn’t exist.

There’s no piece of paper that justifies what the beggar has and what I have. Standing naked beside the beggar, there’s no difference between her and me except a difference in luck. I don’t actually deserve to have a thousand times more than the beggar has. I don’t deserve to have two crusts of bread more.

Nothing is changing in the life of the poor. There is no change. Gradual change is not happening. It’s not going to happen. It was only something we talked about.

My feeling in my heart a sympathy for the poor does not change the life of the poor. My believing fervently in gradual change does not change the life of the poor. Parents who teach their children good values do not change the life of the poor. Artists who create works of art that inspire sympathy and good values do not change the life of the poor. Citizens inspired by artists and parents to adopt good values and sympathy for the poor and vote for sincere politicians who believe fervently in gradual change do not change the life of the poor.

The chambermaid’s situation is not temporary. A life sentence has been passed on her. She’s to clean for me and sleep in poverty. Not, she’s to clean for me today and I’m to clean for her tomorrow, or I’m to clean for her next year. Not she’s to sleep in poverty tonight, and I’m to sleep in poverty tomorrow night, or some other night.

No. The sentence says that she will serve, and then on the next day she will serve, and then she will, and she will, right up until her death.

But the strangest thing of all – although the terms of existence of the chambermaid were settled at her birth, the terms of my existence were not settled at mine.

I may have struggled hard to get what I have. But my struggle has always been against others.  In fact, I’ve been struggling against the ones who are poor. And that, too, is a choice I’m making. I could change sides. I could decide to fight on the other side. Put an end to the whole elaborate performance. Live simply. And if I have more than others, share what I have until each has enough.

Reading - International Solidarity – Ben Okafor read an extract from Nelson Mandela’s speech to the Labour Conference 2000

Britain was in so many respects the second headquarters of our movement in exile. Your solidarity helped to make those years of exile bearable and contributed to them not turning out to be wasted years. At the time international solidarity was a triumph of the human spirit over the barriers of distance and isolation. We marvelled at that generosity of spirit capable of reaching out to take part in the struggles of those far removed and in distant corners of the world.

Today the world has become the global village of which we once spoke only in wishful metaphor. What happens in one part of the globe is immediately accessible to the entire world and affects others over great distances. However the danger is that globalisation can come to mean only the free flow of goods and finance, the open access to markets, the breaking down of barriers to trade and commerce.

The concern for the common good is in danger of being lost in the current understanding of a global world.

We would argue that the shrinking of the globe through the advances in communications and information technology has made it even more incumbent upon us to become once more the keepers of our brothers and sisters no matter where they find themselves in the world. 

May this century be one where the poor and marginalised come into their own and the gross social inequalities of the past at last are eradicated.

Bonnie Greer called for a Moment of Reflection 

Let us stand.

Let us stand in solidarity with those thousands across the world who stand in common cause tonight, calling for justice, yearning for change, aching for a new vision of how we may live and work together in equity and peace. If we do not stand together, this vision will remain a dream.

Let us stand together with those who challenge the powerful to earn the authority bestowed on them by wielding power with wisdom, fairness and compassion. If we do not stand together, the mighty will not be held to account.

Let us stand in reverence before the magnanimous splendour of the earth in whose bounty and beauty we all share. Let us stand with those who work to right the balance of our relationship to this earth. Let us stand and acknowledge that we have fought over the riches of the earth and squandered them. If we do not stand together, the ground on which we stand will founder.

Let us stand in glad celebration of the myriad multiplicity of our human family, in which vibrant hope, defying despair, springs evergreen in each new generation. If we do not stand together, we will lose our own humanity as we deny it to others.

Let us stand in awe before the mystery of life itself, whatever name we use to capture its magnificence in our hearts; let us stand and contemplate how we may fashion our lives to bring life and love to those to whom it is denied.

Let us stand with our brothers and sisters here and across the world.

Let us stand.

Final Reading – Damian Lewis and Adjoa Andoh read ‘We Go Together’ (Isobel Carter Heywood)

There can be no greater priority for us than an uncompromising allegiance to the recreation of a society and a world in which men and women stand on common ground, holding all things in common, encouraged to make justice in relationships where there is a commitment to mutual well-being, growth, choice; - a world not built on the bodies of the poor, but a common-wealth in the most literal and non-imperialist sense of what the word might mean. Holding our wealth in common.

We go, comforted and strengthened by the power of love in history, the power for right-relation in history, the power of justice in this world. 

We go believing that either we will re-create the world, or we will destroy it. 

We go now, responsible for what happens in the world. 

We move as a body -

- seeking a common-wealth

- that we will break down with our indifference

- or build up with our lives.

Reports from the events

» Westminster Abbey opening event
» Gordon Brown’s message to TJM campaigners
» Report back from the Wake Up delegations
» Supporter feedback on GWA  
» Photo Gallery from the Vigil
» Reports from Wake Up to Trade Justice