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The Times, UK
Jan 25 2014
'We cannot do everything but we must not do nothing'
Caroline Cox, Credo
Over the years I have developed a passionate belief in the fundamental
importance of freedom. Brought up a Christian, I was familiar with
Jesus's words "You shall know the truth and the truth will make you
free." Experience has taught me the fundamental importance of truth
and freedom, through exposure to the suffering of those who are denied
them. The German theologian Ernst Käsemann said "Jesus means freedom".
I have witnessed how Christianity so often motivates individuals and
societies to speak for the oppressed and to set the captive free.
My awareness began with academic freedom. In the 1970s, as head of the
department of sociology at the Polytechnic of North London, with 16
out of 20 staff being members of the Communist Party, I was so deeply
disturbed by ruthless indoctrination, academic blackmail and violence
in "occupations" premised on lies that I eventually co-wrote a
book,The Rape of Reason, to which Bernard Levin devoted three columns
inThe Times, one headed "In all Its Brutality, the Making of an
Intellectual Concentration Camp".
In the 1980s I travelled many times to Poland to people suffering
extreme deprivations of martial law. I always returned humbled by
their courage, faith and dignity. One vignette: totalitarianism meant
one could be sent to prison for smuggling blank paper. I was warned:
"It's dangerous: one can write ideas on it."
In the 1990s I travelled many times to Sudan, then in the grip of the
Islamist National Islamic Front regime which had declared jihad
against all who opposed it - Muslims, Christians and traditional
believers. That war killed two million, displaced four million and
enslaved hundreds of thousands. I was privileged to help to rescue
several thousand. I will never forget their heartbreak stories, such
as little Deng's, aged about 6. As we talk, tears stream down his
cheeks. He has just learnt that both his parents had been killed in
the raid when he was abducted; he is now an orphan. But before we
part, a little wistful smile appears and he says "At least I am home
now, I am called my own name, Deng; I'm no longer called Abd [Arabic
for slave]."
I believe no one should be called "slave" in our world today. But
there are at least 27 million slaves in our world. I am so passionate
about this barbaric phenomenon that I have brought out a new edition
of a book on modern slavery with three chapters about people into
whose eyes I have looked who have been slaves - and their voices speak
for those whose voices we cannot hear, because they are still
enslaved.
William Wilberforce's mission is far from accomplished. I believe we
have a moral imperative to continue his mission.
In the 1990s my passion for freedom led me to try to be a "voice for
the voiceless" - for victims of oppression ignored by the big aid
agencies and international media, often trapped behind closed borders.
Big aid organisations can generally only visit places with the
permission of a sovereign government. If a government is victimising a
minority and denies access, humanitarian organisations such as the UN
cannot reach those victims. I therefore established a small NGO,
Humanitarian Aid Relief Trust (Hart), to reach such people with aid
and advocacy. One example: a small historically Armenian land,
Nagorno-Karabakh, was cut off by Stalin from Armenia and reassigned to
Azerbaijan. In the early 1990s Azerbaijan began ethnic cleansing the
150,000 Armenians who lived there, unleashing full-scale war. With
courage - and some miracles - the Armenians hung on to their historic
land. A ceasefire was signed in 1994. Now, Hart supports a
path-breaking Rehabilitation Centre there and I have just returned
from my 80th visit.
We try to serve and speak for other people denied their freedom and
trapped in conflict, including the Rohingya Muslim, Shan Buddhist and
Christian Kachin peoples in Burma; and the peoples of Sudan and South
Sudan who have suffered too much for far too long.
I am painfully aware that my endeavours are minuscule. But I believe
that we who have freedom should use our freedom in the service of
those denied theirs.
HART is very small. We often feel overwhelmed by the enormity of our
partners' needs on frontlines of faith and freedom around the world.
We could feel almost paralysed. But we have a motto: "We cannot do
everything, but we must not do nothing."
I believe, if, together, we all do something, we really can make a difference.
Baroness Cox's book This Immoral Trade was reissued in a revised and
e-book edition in August 2013
Jan 25 2014
'We cannot do everything but we must not do nothing'
Caroline Cox, Credo
Over the years I have developed a passionate belief in the fundamental
importance of freedom. Brought up a Christian, I was familiar with
Jesus's words "You shall know the truth and the truth will make you
free." Experience has taught me the fundamental importance of truth
and freedom, through exposure to the suffering of those who are denied
them. The German theologian Ernst Käsemann said "Jesus means freedom".
I have witnessed how Christianity so often motivates individuals and
societies to speak for the oppressed and to set the captive free.
My awareness began with academic freedom. In the 1970s, as head of the
department of sociology at the Polytechnic of North London, with 16
out of 20 staff being members of the Communist Party, I was so deeply
disturbed by ruthless indoctrination, academic blackmail and violence
in "occupations" premised on lies that I eventually co-wrote a
book,The Rape of Reason, to which Bernard Levin devoted three columns
inThe Times, one headed "In all Its Brutality, the Making of an
Intellectual Concentration Camp".
In the 1980s I travelled many times to Poland to people suffering
extreme deprivations of martial law. I always returned humbled by
their courage, faith and dignity. One vignette: totalitarianism meant
one could be sent to prison for smuggling blank paper. I was warned:
"It's dangerous: one can write ideas on it."
In the 1990s I travelled many times to Sudan, then in the grip of the
Islamist National Islamic Front regime which had declared jihad
against all who opposed it - Muslims, Christians and traditional
believers. That war killed two million, displaced four million and
enslaved hundreds of thousands. I was privileged to help to rescue
several thousand. I will never forget their heartbreak stories, such
as little Deng's, aged about 6. As we talk, tears stream down his
cheeks. He has just learnt that both his parents had been killed in
the raid when he was abducted; he is now an orphan. But before we
part, a little wistful smile appears and he says "At least I am home
now, I am called my own name, Deng; I'm no longer called Abd [Arabic
for slave]."
I believe no one should be called "slave" in our world today. But
there are at least 27 million slaves in our world. I am so passionate
about this barbaric phenomenon that I have brought out a new edition
of a book on modern slavery with three chapters about people into
whose eyes I have looked who have been slaves - and their voices speak
for those whose voices we cannot hear, because they are still
enslaved.
William Wilberforce's mission is far from accomplished. I believe we
have a moral imperative to continue his mission.
In the 1990s my passion for freedom led me to try to be a "voice for
the voiceless" - for victims of oppression ignored by the big aid
agencies and international media, often trapped behind closed borders.
Big aid organisations can generally only visit places with the
permission of a sovereign government. If a government is victimising a
minority and denies access, humanitarian organisations such as the UN
cannot reach those victims. I therefore established a small NGO,
Humanitarian Aid Relief Trust (Hart), to reach such people with aid
and advocacy. One example: a small historically Armenian land,
Nagorno-Karabakh, was cut off by Stalin from Armenia and reassigned to
Azerbaijan. In the early 1990s Azerbaijan began ethnic cleansing the
150,000 Armenians who lived there, unleashing full-scale war. With
courage - and some miracles - the Armenians hung on to their historic
land. A ceasefire was signed in 1994. Now, Hart supports a
path-breaking Rehabilitation Centre there and I have just returned
from my 80th visit.
We try to serve and speak for other people denied their freedom and
trapped in conflict, including the Rohingya Muslim, Shan Buddhist and
Christian Kachin peoples in Burma; and the peoples of Sudan and South
Sudan who have suffered too much for far too long.
I am painfully aware that my endeavours are minuscule. But I believe
that we who have freedom should use our freedom in the service of
those denied theirs.
HART is very small. We often feel overwhelmed by the enormity of our
partners' needs on frontlines of faith and freedom around the world.
We could feel almost paralysed. But we have a motto: "We cannot do
everything, but we must not do nothing."
I believe, if, together, we all do something, we really can make a difference.
Baroness Cox's book This Immoral Trade was reissued in a revised and
e-book edition in August 2013