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Together

 for  the  Common  Good  Keynote  


 
Dr  Anna  Rowlands  
King’s  College,  London  
 
Six  months  ago  I  was  involved  in  a  conference  in  London.  It  was  a  little  like  this  
one,   in   that   it   gathered   together   a   group   of   highly   motivated,   diverse   people  
wanting   to   share   insights   from   their   work,   as   well   as   to   seek   confirmation   of   a  
wider,   shared   vision   that   was   greater   than   the   sum   parts   of   their   individual  
ventures.    
 
The   difference   was   that   those   attending   that   conference   and   running   the  
workshop   were   school   pupils   aged   between   8   and   18   from   across   London  
schools.  It  was  a  refreshing  change  for  me  to  revert  to  being  a  pupil  whilst  these  
young   people   taught   us   about   the   common   good.   They   did   not   use   this   phrase,  
but   every   word   they   said   was   entirely   about   that   value   and   practice.   They  
captured   my   attention   –   in   fact   the   captured   my   imagination   -­‐   in   a   way   quite  
different  to  much  talk  about  the  common  good  that  I  tend  to  hear.    
 
They  began  their  workshop  by  setting  us  an  unlikely  task:   we  were  not  asked  to  
discuss   the   problems   of   our   neighbourhoods   and   start   proposing   solutions,   or  
even  to  spend  time  getting  to  know  each  other  –  even  though  the  day  was  about  
community  organising.  Instead,  we  were  asked  to  write  a  poem.  I  confess  that  I  
was  a  little  taken  aback.  Each  line  of  the  poem  began  with  the  phrase  ‘I  am……’.    
We   were   given   reflective   prompts   –   some   serious,   some   more   humourous   -­‐   to  
write   each   line,   and   together   we   adults   slightly   awkwardly   constructed   and   then  
read   our   poems.   The   pupils   were   re-­‐running   for   us   the   English   lesson   that   had  
been   their   entry   into   community   organising   and   thinking   about   the   common  
good.  Writing  poetry  may  sound  a  curious  way  to  motivate  students  from  a  fairly  
deprived   community   in   North   London   to   engage   in   shaping   their   communities.  
Not   at   all.   Their   teacher   told   us   what   she   had   learned:   that   the   first   step   to  
motivating  these  students  to  act  in  their  communities  had  been  to  stimulate  their  
imaginations,  to  awaken  a  deeper  sense  of  who  they  were;  to  discover  something  
of   their   own   mystery,   dignity   and   humour.     Without   giving   back   to   them   that  
which   much   of   their   life   experience   had   often   taken   away,   they   would   find   it  
difficult  to  find  the  passion  to  act  for  change.  And  change  their  communities  they  
have   –   sorting   out   dysfunctional   school   bus   services,   joining   Living   Wage  
campaigns  and  much  else  besides.  I  think  their  teacher  had  it  right:  the  politics  
and  practice  of  the  common  good  begins  with  recognition  and  with  imagination.    
 
Rowan  Williams  talks  about  the  imaginative  force  of  art  and  religion  as  the  two  
great  examples  of  the  ‘non-­‐secular’:–  what  he  means  by  this  is  that  religion  and  
art  (poetry  for  those  Brent  pupils)  communicates  and  awakens  the  value  of  being  
human   in   more   than   just   functional   terms.   Religion   and   art   exceed   and   challenge  
the   secular,   the   vision   of   the   common   good   although   entirely   practical   and   social  
does  not  start  with  a  list  of  problems.    
 
The   beginning   of   all   Christian   social   and   political   action   is   found   outside   of  
politics  itself,  in  a  place  of  deep  imagination,  in  an  ‘I  am’  rather  than  an  ‘I  do..”    

  1  
 
The  tradition  of  CST  from  which  I  come,  and  which  has  long  championed  the  idea  
of  the  Common  Good,  provides  precisely  such  a  stimulus  to  our  imagination:  we  
are  often  told  that  the  common  good  is  about  neighbour  love,  of  course  it  is,  but  it  
begins   in   some   prior   theological   thinking:   it   begins   with   a   recognition   not   of  
what  I  have  to  do,  but  of  who  I  am  as  a  created  being:  Thomas  Aquinas  tells  us  
that  our  true  common  good  from  a  Christian  point  of  view  is  life  in  communion  
with  God,  and  in  order  to  prepare  ourselves  to  share  in  that  life  of  communion,  
we   are   given   both   in   our   nature   and   through   grace   the   means   to   live   a   pale  
imitation   of   that   life   here   and   now.   I   am   a   person   created   in   the   image   of   the  
Triune   God,   created   for   relationship   –   in   fact   more   than   relationship,  
interdependence,   with   God   and  my   neighbour.   Our   social   and   political   life   is   part  
of  the  goodness  of  that  creation.  One  of  the  gifts  of  the  Catholic  social  tradition  
has  been  to  value  the  best  side  of  our  political  instincts  as  part  of  the  goodness  in  
which  -­‐  and  for  which  -­‐  we  were  made.  Politics  can  never  totally  be  a  matter  of  
despair  for  those  who  believe  in  the  Common  Good.  However  much  politics  may  
fail  the  Gospel,  we  cannot  give  in  to  a  view  of  politics  as  only  ever  a  dirty,  squalid  
business.   Politics   is   necessary   because   of   both   the   best   and   the   worst   of   that  
which  we  are  capable.  
 
At  its  root  politics  and  faith  are  mutual  expressions  of  the  question:  what  life  do  
we  wish  –  or  in  our  case  are  we  called  -­‐  to  live  together?  What  ‘non-­‐secular’  faith  
gives  to  ‘secular’  politics  is  a  vision  of  the  very  purpose  of  politics  in  the  life  of  the  
common  good.  The  beginning  and  end  of  politics  then,  is  the  common  good  –  an  
integrated   life   together.   What   makes   a   Christian   account   of   the   common   good  
distinct   from   the   idea   of   the   greatest   good   for   the   greatest   number   is   the   biblical  
option  for  the  poor,  or  as  David  Sheppard  preferred,  the  ‘bias  for  the  poor’.  The  
common  good  is  therefore  measured  by  the  well-­‐being   and   participation   of   the  
least:  and  this  is  not  just  about  material  poverty.  It  is,  as  one  Catholic  economist  
points  out,  a  multiplication  sum  and  not  a  simple  sum  of  addition.  If  the  input  of  
the  least  is  zero,  the  sum  total  remains  zero.  Having  boasted  a  little  of  the  gift  of  
CST,   now   to   say   clearly:   this   vision   of   the   common   good   is   of   course   not   just  
Catholic  –  Catholics  may  have  kept  the  particular  language  of  the  common  good  
alive  through  its  social  teaching,  but  this  is  a  shared  Christian  vision  –  for  David  
Sheppard   the   resources   for   such   thinking   came   through   the   worldview  
connected  to  urban  mission,  for  Derek  Worlock  from  CST.    
 
American   public   theologian,   Jim   Wallis   opens   his   most   recent   book   on   why  
evangelicals  should  care  about  the  common  good,  with  this  statement:    
 
It’s  time  to  find  a  better  vision  of  our  life  together.  Politics  is  failing  to  solve  the  
biggest   problems   our   world   now   faces  –   and   the   disillusionment   with   elections  
and  politicians  has  gone  global.  Politicians  continue  to  focus  on  blame  instead  of  
solutions,   winning   instead   of   governing,   ideology   instead   of   civility….   But  
cynicism  cannot  be  our  response  to  failed  politics.  Instead  we  must  go  deeper1.    
 

                                                                                                               
1
Jim Wallis, On God’s Side: What Religion Forgets and Politics Hasn’t Learned About Serving the
Common Good, Lion, 2013, Preface, xi.

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The  common  good  is  an  ancient  idea,  which  belongs  to  us  all,  and  whose  time  has  
urgently  come.  For  him  an  evangelical  account  of  the  common  good  is  rooted  in  
Matthew   25   and   the   Good   Samaritan   –   in   the   command   to   exercise   neighbour  
love.  
 
I   want   to   suggest   to   you   by   way   of   a   conversational   ‘starter   for   ten’   just   two  
initial  reasons  why  we  need  this  language:  you  will,  I  hope,  add  others  to  this  list  
over  the  weekend  …  
 
The  first  reason  why  we  need  the  language  of  the  Common  Good  is  that  it  seeks  
to   be   a   way   of   speaking   and   acting   that   unites   rather   than   divides.   It   is   in   its  
origins  and  essence  a  language  of  relationship.  Some  theologians  have  talked  of  
the  common  good  as  a  sort  of  grammar  –  a  structure  that  enables  a  Christian  way  
of  speaking,  thinking  and  acting  together.    
 
We  are  surrounded  by  divisive  language  and  social  practices  of  many  kinds:  the  
language   of   market,   of   political   interests,   even   some   of   the   language   around  
rights   and   justice   can   become   competitive   and   acquisitive.   Very   much   of   the  
political   language   that   has   been   shaping   our   public   conversations   in   austere  
times   has   been   divisive   rather   than   unitive:   the   deserving   versus   undeserving  
poor,  strivers  versus  skivers.  This  kind  of  language  comes  to  dominate  our  public  
spaces   and   fails   to   nurture   our   imagination,   it   fails   to   provide   any   nutrients   for   a  
life   lived   together.   The   common   good   is   an   integrating   language   which   mirrors  
for  Christians  the  nature  of  life  in  Christ.  Because  we  are  kin  of  Christ,  we  are  kin  
of   each   other.   The   language   of   ‘kindness’   is   connected   to   the   language   of   kinship.  
Theologian   Janet   Soskice   argues   that   we   Christians   have   worn   smooth   our  
metaphors   of   kinship   over   the   centuries,   like   a   great   marble   staircase   made  
smooth  by  use,  we  can  glide  over  that  language,  we  can  lose  our  sense  of  being  
shocked   and   scandalised   by   what   that   kinship   with   Christ   means   for   our  
worshipping  life  together  and  our  political  life  together.    
 
The   second   reason   we   need   the   language   and   practice   of   the   common   good   is  
connected   to   the   first   -­‐   the   common   good   speaks   of   human   value   rather   than  
human  function.  It  therefore  provides  a  necessary  challenge  to  all  forms  of  public  
and  private  action  which  seek  to  reduce  the  human  body  and  human  relations  to  
functions  and  interests,  to  costs  and  benefits.    It  is  a  form  of  language  that  speaks  
of   value,   it   contains   words   that   help   us   speak   publicly   of   suffering,   pain   and  
tragedy   too.   It   also,   I   have   learnt   through   the   japes   of   community   organising,   has  
a  wicked  sense  of  humour.  Speaking  of  human  value  and  relationships  makes  the  
things  that  the  market  and  state  makes  invisible,  visible.  
 
When  Jenny  asked  me  to  speak  she  asked  whether  I  would  make  common  good  
thinking   concrete   by   talking   about   a   particular   issue.   I   want   to   talk   about  
immigration.   There   are   many   ways   in   which   we   will   make   the   themes   of   the  
common   good   practical   this   weekend,   you   will   have   your   own   stories   and  
experiences,  where  your  imagination  and  passion  is  stirred  towards  the  common  
good,  I  am  talking  about  immigration  here  for  two  reasons:  because  it  is  my  story  
of  passion  for  the  common  good  to  share,  and  because  talking  about  this  example  
enables   us   to   see   just   how   challenging   Christian   thinking   about   the   common  

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good  is  for  our  politics..  So  if  immigration  is  not  your  common  good  passion  –  if  
yours  is  housing  or  debt,  race  or  gender,  wages  or  work,  think  with  me  as  I  speak  
about   how   this   one   example   helps   you   think   about   common   good   politics,   and  
perhaps  think  which  example  or  area  you’d  use  as  an  illustration.  
 
Immigration   is   a   hot   political   topic:   for   the   last   decade   it   has   continued   to   poll   in  
the  top  three  political  issues  that  voters  tell  the  government  they  care  about.  In  
some   areas   of   the   country   tensions   between   migrants   and   established  
communities   are   high.   All   of   the   main   political   parties   have   been   told   by   the  
pollsters   that   they   must   do   something   to   show   that   they   are   willing   to   safeguard  
British   jobs,   to   reduce   pressure   on   public   services   within   communities,   to   deal  
with  the  perceived  failures  of  multiculturalism  and  to  show  that  they  can  deter  
people   from   seeking   a   life   in   the   UK.   There   is   an   awkward   public   non-­‐
conversation   happening   right   now   about   immigration   -­‐   in   which   everyone   is  
perceived   to   be   talking   about   immigration   but   each   seems   to   believe   that   no-­‐one  
else   really   understands   what   they   are   trying   to   say.   Want   to   raise   questions  
about   immigration   and   you   are   labelled   racist,   defend   migration   and   you   are  
privileged  urban  liberals  without  a  clue.  In  the  middle  of  the  chatter  are  migrants  
themselves   for   whom   the   current   system   does   not   seem   to   work   much   either:  
report  after  report  explores  the  inhumanity  and  inefficiency  of  the  system  they  
have  to  negotiate.  It  is  a  very  complicated  situation  to  make  sense  of,  and  one  of  
the  most  challenging  common  good  issues  to  get  right.    
 
I   want   to   point   out   two   basic   things   about   the   way   that   ‘the   common   good’   tends  
to  be  thought  of  in  current  public  debate  about  immigration.  Then  I  want  to  say  
something  briefly  about  the  ways  that  a  Christian  account  of  the  common  good  
turns  those  categories  on  their  heads.      
 
 
I  hope  you  will  recognise  these  statements:  
 
The  fair,  or  moral  purpose  of  immigration  policy  is  to  ensure  that  only  migration  
that  is  in  the  British  national  interest  –  ie  economic  interest  -­‐  should  be  allowed  
or  encouraged.  We  need  clear  policies  that  offer  a  preferential  option  for  British  
workers   and   which   bring   in   the   most   highly   qualified   that   we   can   recruit   from  
abroad.  We  should  take  some  refugees  but  not  the  levels  we  currently  take.  
 
Standing  up  for  appropriate  national  self-­‐interest  means  public  policy  should  be  
such  that  it  largely  deters  migration  to  the  UK,  especially  amongst  unskilled  and  
low  skilled  economic  workers  and  those  seeking  refugee  status,  we  should  also  
enforce   removals   on   those   here   who   cannot   achieve   clear   legal   status   quickly.  
We   need   practical   policies   that   enact   this   deterrence.   (examples:   ‘hostile  
environment’  working  group,  Go  Home  vans)    
 
Christian   ‘common   good’   thinking   about   immigration   does   not   begin   or   end   with  
the   category   of   ‘national   interest’.   It   does   not   dismiss   the   idea   of   a   national  
community,  but  it  begins  with  questions  of  human  value  and  it  sets  immigration  
within   a   wider   Christian   imagination   and   story   –   that   story   begins   with   a  
recognition  of  some  basic  parts  of  the  biblical  tradition  a)  a  biblical  command  to  

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honour   the   dignity   of   each   person,   to   offer   particular   hospitality   and   care   for   the  
stranger,  and  to  recognise  our  universal  kinship  through  Christ  beyond  national  
borders.  We  might  note  the  way  in  which  migrants  have  a  privileged  role  in  faith  
communities:   God   sometimes   instructs   his   faithful   to   become   migrants   –  
Abraham  being  our  classic  example,  God  often  calls  migrants  to  be  prophets  and  
truth   tellers   (like   Ruth);   and   Christ   himself   comes   amongst   us   as   a   kind   of  
migrant.   Migration   is   not   first   and   foremost   to   be   viewed   as   a   problem   in   the  
Bible,   (although   for   many   it   brings   great   suffering),   and   the   first   category   of  
Christian   thinking   is   not   national   interest,   rather   migration   is   seen   as   a   basic  
feature  of  the  human  condition  and  indeed  a  metaphor  for  the  life  of  faith  itself.      
 
Such   a   Christian   imagination   might   set   the   tone,   but   it   doesn’t   tell   us   how   we  
resolve  the  very  painful  modern  dilemmas  –  the  conflict  between  different  goods  
-­‐  that  dealing  with  migration  requires.  At  one  level  answering  that  question  is  a  
task  that  belongs  to  the  whole  community,  but  to  help  us  think  more  practically  
about   the   common   good   and   immigration,   Catholic   social   teaching   has   built   on  
that   biblical   background   to   propose   some   principles   that   can   help   bridge   our  
scripture   and   our   context,   and   they   are   rather   different   to   the   principles   that  
seem  to  guide  the  policy  conversation  at  the  moment.    
 
Firstly,   the   purpose   of   immigration   policy   must   have   the   dignity   of   the   human  
person   at   its   heart.   In   a   world   of   nation-­‐states   we   all   require   the   protection   of  
some   form   of   state,   we   can’t   really   exist   for   long   without   this.   Political  
membership   as   a   basic   necessity,   not   a   secondary   luxury. 2  Secondly,   where  
people  are  displaced  from  that  membership  by  conflict,  persecution,  violence  or  
hunger   the   person   has   an   absolute   right   to   seek   sanctuary   elsewhere.3  Because  
political  membership  is  so  basic  to  all  forms  of  economic  and  physical  well-­‐being  
when  deciding  who  to  let  in  or  not,  states  should  offer  a  priority  to  refugees  over  
voluntary  economic  migrants.    
 
Thirdly,   CST   believes   that   the   common   good   is   best   served   by   placing   a   strong  
moral  obligation  on  the  most  materially  prosperous  states  to  receive,  protect  and  
integrate   the   migrant   –   whether   economic   or   refugee.   The   state   may   set   some  
limits   to   how   many   people   it   receives,   but   it   must   have   a   fair   process   for   making  
its   decisions,   balancing   the   resources   that   community   has   available   to   its   own  
established  population  and  the  newly  arriving  migrants.    
 
Fourthly,  national  borders  and  identities  whilst  important  are  a  good  only  when  
they   provide   both   an   ordered   and   peaceful   way   of   life   and   when   they   make  
possible   hospitality   to   others,   and   the   building   of   friendships   between   cultures  
and   persons.   And   here   government   has   an   important   mediating   role,   as   do   the  
institutions   of   church   and   society   -­‐   maximising   the   hospitality   we   can   offer  
without   causing   the   unnecessary   suffering   of   others   requires   governments   and  
communities   to   establish   just   measures   to   integrate   those   who   arrive   and   to  
notice  and  mitigate  any  unfair  burden  to  communities  or  individuals.    
                                                                                                               
2
See Erga Migrantes Caritas Christi (The Love of Christ Towards Migrants), (Vatican City: Pontifical
Council for the Pastoral Care of Migrants and Itinerant Peoples, 2004)
3
See Vatican II, Gaudium et Spes (The Pastoral Constitution of the Church in the Modern World),
1965, n.65.

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Fifthly,  migrants  have  cultural  and  social  as  well  as  political  rights.  They  have  a  
right  to  work,  because  work  is  basic  to  our  dignity  -­‐  and  a  right  to  some  form  of  
civic   participation.   Just   like   thinking   on   the   Living   Wage,   the   minimum  
conditions  for  survival  include  ways  to  participate  in  an  established  community  
and  not  just  to  survive.    
 
Finally,   in   CST   all   rights   being   duties:   migrants   bear   responsibilities   as   well   as  
rights:  to  uphold  lawfulness  in  the  host  community  and  to  actively  seek  fullness  
of   participation   in   its   life:   for   here   lies   their   own   flourishing   as   well   as  the   health  
of  the  common  good.  Human  dignity.  Justice.  Reciprocity.  The  Common  Good.  
   
These  principles  have  led  the  churches  of  all  denominations  to  be  at  the  forefront  
of  challenges  to:    
 
Detention  of  children  for  immigration  purposes  
Unlimited  detention  of  adults  and  the  conditions  endured  by  those  in  detention  
Brutality  of  enforced  removals  
The  right  to  work  for  those  whose  decisions  take  years  
regularisation  of  undocumented  migrants  
to  challenge  the  withdrawal  of  welfare  from  destitute  asylees  
 
Yet,  the  common  good  point  is  internal  to  our  communities  as  well  as  external:  
Churches   have   been   places   that   have   provided   a   different   kind   of   context   for  
migrants:   contexts   which   don’t   check   passports   or   papers,   but   offer   a   context   of  
participation  not  only  in  prayer  and  worship  but  also  in  the  social,  cultural  and  
political   life   of   a   congregation.   Churches,   mosques,   Temples   and   synagogues  
have   become   for   many   migrants   an   alternative   kind   of   civil   society,   offering   a  
form  of  faith-­‐citizenship  to  those  denied  either  temporarily  or  permanently  such  
privileges  by  the  nation-­‐state.  This  is  a  reminder  that  the  common  good  is  first  
and   foremost   something   we   witness   through   the   vibrant,   creative   lives   of   our  
own  communities.    
 
 
I   said   that   my   example   needn’t   have   been   about   immigration   –   we   could   have  
performed   a   similar   analysis   based   on   penal   policy,   or   a   living   wage,   how   we  
relate   labour   to   capital,   the   role   of   money,   about   youth   unemployment   or  
housing,   food   poverty   or   the   environment.   All   these   are   common   good   questions  
that  challenge  our  faith  life,  our  politics  and  our  economy  at  its  core.  Here  we  see  
sharply  that  our  kinship  language  changes  things.  What  a  difference  it  makes  to  
think  first  with  the  imagination  of  the  common  good  rather  than  that  of  market  
or  nation.  
 
I’ve   talked   a   lot   about   ‘the   Church’   and   Christian   theology.   But   the   common   good  
cannot   be   contained   only   in   talk   of   Christians   relating   to   each   other.   It   implies  
endless  creative  partnerships  between  individuals,  institutions  and  associations  
who  share  something  of  this  vision  of  a  common  life.  No  faith,  no  political  party,  
no  campaigning  association  can  be  or  do  the  common  good  alone.  The  politics  of  
the   common   good   is   plural   and   spacious.   For   this   reason,   I   want   to   finish   by  

  6  
saying   something   more   personal   about   generous   ways   of   living   the   common  
good:   I   started   by   telling   you   that   I   had   been   challenged   and   inspired   by   a   group  
of  London  pupils.  What  I  didn’t  say  was  that  the  pupils   running  the  workshops  
were  from  every  different  faith  group,  and  none  –  from  Muslim,  Jewish,  catholic,  
CofE  and  secular  state  schools.  At  the  end  of  the  conference  something  struck  me  
deeply,   enough   to   persuade   me   to   abandon   my   carefully   prepared   pep   talk   for  
the  closing  session.  For  the  first  time  I  understood  both  the  gift  and  the  limitation  
of  the  Catholic  education  that  I  received  about  40  miles  from  here  in  the  1980’s  
and  early  90’s.  During  the  Sheppard-­‐Worlock  years  I  was  at  a  tough  but  decent  
Catholic  comprehensive.  The  values  of  CST  and  especially  a  formation  in  a  faith  
vision  of  the  common  good  were  central  to  what  we  were  taught  at  school,  Young  
Christian  Workers,  CAFOD  and  SVP  were  bread  and  butter  of  our  parish  life.  Yet  
watching   the   interaction   of   the   pupils   from   across   London   (Jewish,   Muslim,  
secular,   Catholic,   Anglican)   I   understood   that   something   vital   had   been   missing  
from   that   1980’s   Catholic   vision   of   the   common   good,   something   so   obvious   that  
I   couldn’t   believe   I   hadn’t   noticed   it   before:   We   did   what   we   did   towards   ‘the  
common   good’   largely   on   our   own,   perhaps   with   other   Catholic   schools   or  
parishes   every   now   and   again,   but   never   with   our   secular,   Anglican   or   Jewish  
neighbours.  It  is  fitting  we  are  here  in  Liverpool  because  the  closest  thing  in  the  
1980’s   to   what   those   London   schools   are   doing   now   was   happening   here  
courtesy  of  David   Sheppard   and   Derek   Worlock.  As  faith  communities   we   should  
be   proud   that   we   have   kept   alive   a   language,   and   institutional   practice,   of   the  
common  good  through  a  period  of  very  significant  challenge  to  much  implied  in  
that  vision  of  human  society.  But  surely  part  of  the  challenge  to  the  Churches  and  
faith  communities  thirty  years  later  is  to  look  towards  each  other  and  outwards  
in  new  ways:  the  next  generation  of  challenge  is  move  us  from  the  goods  of  our  
multiple   civil   societies   towards   quite   new   ways   in   which   we   can   practice  
relationships   of   political,   social   and   religious   reciprocity   and   friendship   together.  
Our  children  are  learning  how  to  be  at  the  forefront  of  working  together  for  the  
common   good   –   they   are   challenging   companies   to   pay   a   living   wage,   learning  
how   to   belong   in   their   own   streets,   challenging   their   churches   and   mosques   to  
talk  about  issues  of  the  common  good  and  to  break  down  barriers  between  and  
within  communities:  how  far  are  the  rest  of  us  willing  to  go  with  them?    
 
 
 

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