When should we get involved?

Jill Clark works for Livability and lives in the East End of London.

Does being a Christian mean we should always speak out?  What does it say if we don't?  Outlining some recent personal experiences, Jill explores the dilemma of getting involved or not.

“Are you a plainclothes police officer or what?”

Recently I was asked this question twice in one day when I chose to get involved in situations of conflict in central London. I have found that reflecting on the questions of ‘when to get involved’ in is done best in the light of real situations rather than in theory.

Getting involved means I am interacting with strangers, people that I do not already have a relationship with and most likely will not be able to follow up with – and it has made me think: Does it make any difference? Is the physical danger worth it? Does being a Christian make any difference? To quote a phrase, ‘What would Jesus do?’

What will become of them?

Last month as I walked down Fleet Street in London, two white teenage boys passed me walking quickly. For some reason they caught my attention. Suddenly a third boy came running up from behind me and joined them. They hugged and started talking.

They were certainly out of place amongst the pinstriped-suited business types. As I looked at their baggy trousers and hooded tops, I found myself wondering what they were up to. I remember thinking, “Why do I always think the worst of people? I’m sure they’re….” My thoughts were interrupted when one of the boys ran into Carphone Warehouse, just ahead of us, tore one of the new phones off its security lead and ran for his life.

A female Carphone Warehouse employee ran outside and said, “Catch him!” so without thinking I ran. Since I wasn’t fast enough to catch the boy with the phone I caught up with his friends. My heart was pounding and all I could think was, “What will become of these boys if they keep stealing phones?” I grabbed one of the boys by the arm and wouldn’t let him go. Amazingly, he didn’t fight even though he was about a foot taller than me. Maybe he was shocked that a short white woman in her thirties had grabbed him. I yelled back to the woman from Carphone Warehouse but she wouldn’t leave the shop.

I said, “Tell her what happened. Explain why your friend took the phone and they might understand”. He said, “I don’t know him. He’s not my friend.” I eventually let him go and said, “What is next for you? What is the plan?” He didn’t answer. Eventually he said, “What are you, a plainclothes police officer?” I said, “I’ll let you guess”.

I just couldn't stop thinking about their lives and what would happen if they didn't stop stealing phones.I was close enought to talk to them as we walked.  For some reaons I said, "You're better than this".

I don’t even know that I believed this. “Stop following us, what are you doing?” was what they kept saying.

When I turned around to leave them, the boy who had stolen the phone walked past. He looked very nervous and I said, “What is your plan?” He started running and I didn’t follow him. I knew there was nothing I could do.

Was it pointless?

Did I want him to give the phone back? Was it about the money? I don’t think I even cared about that. To a shop one phone is insignificant. But for the boys it is not insignificant. What does stealing do to your identity?

I ran after them out of an ‘I must do something’ reflex. “But they could have had knives”, a friend said afterwards. They very well could have but they were young, there were other people around, and I knew that I would not be a physical threat.

Thinking about it now, does it matter that I got involved? Have the boys stopped stealing phones? Probably not. Do I feel proud of myself? Not really. I am not convinced that very much changed. But at least I tried something.

And next time maybe I’ll try something different. What I will not try is ‘keeping myself to myself’. That does not appear to be an option for those who follow Jesus.

Getting involved - the sequel

Later that day on the bus I heard a man singing very badly. A middle-aged white English man carrying a bottle of wine was literally hanging on two young Bangladeshi men and singing, “Go back home, you brown-skinned people. We don’t want you here”. Though other people on the bus were rolling their eyes at him, no one said anything, even his victims.

I walked up to him and said, “Hi. How are you tonight?” and eventually he turned to look at me. He said he was from East London and that he didn’t like ‘these people’ coming to take jobs and money.  I said, “If you want to make fun of someone on this bus, you make fun of me”.   He said, “What? Are you some kind of plainclothes police officer?”  I was surprised that he asked the same question as the boys earlier in the day.

I said, “No, I’m just a normal person like everyone else.  And you need to respect me just like I respect you.”  He said, “I respect you” and this surprised me.
He then started telling me about having been in prison and how he didn’t have a place to stay or friends.

The question of what made me get involved kept going through my head.

I wanted the people listening to hear someone stand up to racial abuse, even if it was alcohol-induced. Too often I have sat quietly while homeless people are accosted by teenagers on the bus for being “gross and smelly” or while other Bangladeshi people are told to go home.   

Why is it so hard?

Many times I have felt like I have a form of social laryngitis – that I cannot speak out – that somehow I have been dulled by the feeling that whatever I say will not help and sometimes make the situation worse. But this feeling eats away at me and leaves me angry and helpless.

If I do nothing then I am sending a message that I am okay with whatever is happening. At least if I do something then I am showing a willingness to get caught up in the action and possibly be hurt.

When Jesus says that I should love my neighbour as myself I don’t need the explanation given to the expert in the law. Living in Whitechapel, East London, my neighbours include people from around the world and it is an area immersed in social problems with thousands of small conflicts going on all the time. It would be impossible to get involved in every conflict I see – it would be unrealistic and egotistical to think all these situations need me. We should never get an inflated view of what we can do role in our communities.

So how will I know when to get involved? For me the answer is: when my heart pounds. This is my sign that I need to do something. I guess my prayer should be that my heart pounds at the right times.

Jill Clark, March 2009