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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.
2
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
3
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
4
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.
5
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?
7