Punching above our weight?

 

A phrase that's come to worry me the more I hear it is "Quakers punch above their weight." And although I detest boxing, it's not the image of the punch that worries me. I'm just as worried when it's put more politely as "Quakers have an influence that's disproportionate to their small numbers."

I have two concerns about this idea of influence. One is that it seems a particularly sneaky way of going about things. In the struggle for the vote, women (whose campaign was never endorsed by British Quakers as a whole) were often told that their proper role was to exert a quiet influence behind the scenes - which meant, on the whole, those women who were classed as "ladies" acting as society hostesses or whispering ideas for policy into their influential husbands' ears. It never seemed much of a substitute for involvement in real, informed public debate and it plainly privileged those women who were not merely wealthy but also prepared to exert sweetly feminine charms to public and political ends.

I wouldn't accuse any Quaker of deploying sweetly feminine charms in this way. However Quaker influence behind the scenes has on occasion been exerted by Quakers using social contacts with highly-placed politicians that derive from class privilege and the manners of the wealthier members of society. This behind-the-scenes influence through social contacts goes in both directions. For instance, in 1907 William A Cadbury was persuaded by the foreign secretary Lord Grey to delay and limit access to the report into slavery in Principe and Sao Tomé he had commissioned because it might cause damage to the government's interests as well as the reputation of Quaker chocolate manufacturers.

But there's another concern. If we exert disproportionate influence, by what right do we do so? Do we really think we are heard because of our virtue - or is it because of our money and our manners? And if we are being heard, whose voices exert less influence than they should?

I think most Quakers would express shock if I stood up in Meeting and praised the way in which influence over parliaments is bought by the rich or achieved by those with the right contacts. I've heard Quakers express shock at the thought that friends of ministers might have been privileged in gaining PPE contracts. They might also be discomfited by the way political parties (in power and opposition) raise funds by charging for access to key politicians. But it's the standard game and all sorts of people play it. I've heard of charities, campaign groups I support, universities, local authorities and even NHS trusts trying to get on the right side of ministers by booking stalls at party conferences - and isn't that a kind of cash for access?

So how do Quakers gain their disproportionate influence? I'm prepared to agree, as a Quaker, that it's influence for things I too really care about: peace-making, help for refugees, LGBTQ rights and so forth. Well they - we - pay for it. We have offices and people who are good at talking with politicians. People with opposing views - and often with much more money - do the same things to advance their views. It's a messy process and hasn't got much to do with democracy.

Meanwhile there are groups who have much of importance to say whose influence is insufficient - who punch below their weight. The Grenfell Action Group were vigorous in their attempts to avert the fire that killed 72 people - but they were mocked, threatened and ignored. Yet they did their best to speak truth to power. Numerous campaigns seek the truth about other deaths when the state or big organisations are involved, but few have much impact on politicians or policy. If we're pleased that Quakers have a disproportionately large influence, what do we feel about those who influence is disproportionately small? And how does punching above our weight fit with our testimony to equality?

Where are the poor Quakers?

 Why are Quakers so wealthy?

Not all Quakers are wealthy. Some are poor, subsisting on benefits or working for low wages in the gig economy. Some struggle to make ends meet. But the overwhelming impression given by Quakers in Britain as a whole is of people who are, for the most part, comfortably off and who don't suffer from the day-to day money struggles that affect a large proportion of the British population. So what went wrong?

Quakers are, as our Advices and Queries make plain, a faith group with Christian roots. And the Bible, which Quakers are still advised to read, is not a book that sides with the rich. Jesus' teachings are quite clear: he brings good news to the poor and warns his followers not to lay up for themselves treasures on earth. Yet Quakers often seem quite proud of the wealth that Quaker businesses - the breweries, the banks, the chocolate factories - have created. By the mid-19th century, according to Elizabeth Isichei's research, the average Quaker was three times as wealthy as the average British citizen. I don't find that a cause for pride.

Once any group starts becoming rich it's also liable to start being defensive about its wealth. In religious groups this can be labelled the reward of providence of the gift of God. Surely we don't think like that any more. Surely we know that wealth - including Quaker wealth - was achieved in some dodgy ways. Even Quakers who didn't "own" enslaved people or take part in colonial wars reaped the benefits of a system of empire-building, war and slavery.

Wealth has other corrupting influences. It's not just that, as the Sermon on the Mount says, moth and rust will corrupt, and thieves break through and steal. It teaches people to protect themselves from any association with poor people and poverty - unless that association is one in which the rich can congratulate themselves on doing good to and instructing the poor. Separation between rich and poor becomes central to a way of life.

In the 1860s many Quaker missions had been set up. These were not based on the equality of all that we attempt today in Quaker Meetings, where anyone can minister (unless and until eldered). They included Bible readings, singing and preaching to the poor. By the end of the 1860s there were roughly as many people regularly attending Quaker missions as there were attending Quaker Meetings for Worship. The suggestion was made that Quaker Mission members should be admitted to membership of the Religious Society of Friends - though perhaps there should be a second-class, inferior kind of membership especially for them.

The proposal to admit Mission members to Quaker membership created much discussion among Friends. In 1869 Quaker Robert Barclay, in a widely-published speech, asked:

 "Do you wish to invite chimney-sweepers, costermongers, or even blacksmiths, to dinner on First Day? Do you intend to give their sons and daughters a boarding-school education? Do you intend to save the country the expense of supporting them when out of work, and give them a sort of prescriptive right to a maintenance – a right apart from the simple personal, individual act of Christian charity?"

The speech went on to explain that it would be wrong to ask labouring men to take time away from their labours so that they could attend the business Meetings in which the direction of the Society was determined. (He didn't mention labouring women because women were, at that time, excluded from such Meetings.) And he went on and on and on:

"There is the crossing-sweeper! He is a Christian; will you reject him from Christ’s visible church? He has the same Lord, the same baptism, the same faith, the same God. He will go to the same heaven as you. He will sit down at the marriage-supper of the Lamb. Nay, he may occupy a higher place in heaven than you. No, you cannot, as professing Christians, refuse to welcome him as one who Christ is not ashamed to call his brother and if you are ashamed  to do so, be very sure he will at the last day be ashamed of you before the angels of God.

           "You cannot refuse him that Christian communion, that  loving Christian sympathy and religious instruction which you desire your own child should enjoy. But is that any reason you should introduce him to what is religiously valueless, and invite him to dinner, and encourage your daughter to associate with him in her civil or social capacity? Is it any reason why you should give him a boarding-school education, which will help him to become one of the queen’s ministers? Are not these things beyond the functions of a Christian church? Must they not necessarily limit the mission of a church of Christ?"

That distinction, between wealthy Quakers and the faithful poor, was the view that prevailed. There is an absence of poor and working-class people among Quakers today because Quakers decided - perhaps by default rather than active decision - to exclude them from the Society. So today we have wealth  but are impoverished in diversity. There is important ministry that we may therefore fail to hear.

Unwritten rules

Quakers have a testimony to equality. That doesn't mean that they - that we - are very good at it. We're not entirely sure what it means.

In Britain, where Quakers don't have paid ministers (although they do have employees) there's a tendency to say that equality means not having a hierarchy. We sit in a square or a circle. In a Meeting for Worship anyone can stand to minister. Quaker roles - clerk, elder, treasurer etc. - aren't held for life but for three- or six-year periods and in theory anyone can take them.

It's not as easy as that. Quaker practices have been evolved through centuries and, over time, plenty of customs and unwritten rules have evolved. Quakers try to explain these to newcomers - we're not an unwelcoming lot. But we tend to forget how little newcomers know. We may explain about sitting in silence for long stretches of time - or even that, from time to time, people may stand up and "minister." We may even say encouragingly that "Anyone can minister" but is that really true? Quaker ministry tends to have a quite small range of acceptable tones and patterns. I'm not sure what would happen if a newcomer felt moved to harangue us for a long time in the style of, for example, George Fox. Or perhaps I do know what would happen. The newcomer would be eldered and gently, condescendingly, learn some of the unwritten rules of ministry. Friends would be relieved when the newcomer failed to return.

Perhaps it's fortunate that most newcomers don't feel moved to minister. They tend to wait until after Meeting to ask questions. Then they may or may not be aware of the social rules that apply - because social rules do exist, even if they're unwritten. For some that time after Meeting is a comfortable time - a chance to drink Fairtrade tea or coffee, to nibble organic biscuits and to feel that this is the sort of gathering in which they belong. But what about those who don't feel comfortable? They may have enjoyed the peace of Meeting for Worship and been moved by ministry. They may even have found that Meeting provided a deep and enriching spiritual experience. But now they have to navigate a social gathering which in Britain is mostly white and mostly middle-class. What if they feel out of place? What if that's the main obstacle that will hinder or halt their return?