When nuns held up a bank

A community fearing being left behind, takes novel action to help change its economic and social fortune. Ryan Gilfeather tells the tale.

Ryan Gilfeather

Ryan Gilfeather explores social issues through the lens of philosophy, theology, and history. He is a Research Associate at the Joseph Centre for Dignified Work.

A pile of coins in focus at the bottom of an out of focus glass tube.

Small value coins were at the heart of the nuns' actions.

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash.

Days before Christmas 2001 a mob of nuns and priests held up a bank in Oxford Street. They were not stealing money but rather paying it in. The Nuns of St Antony’s Forest Gate, a 2000-person strong Catholic parish saved their collection money until they had a staggeringly vast quantity to deposit. On the day, they took the money in a van to an HSBC branch in Oxford Street, wheeled it in on trolleys, where they proceeded to deposit every single coin.

At the same time priests in their clerical collars, and worshippers from a range of congregations in East London queued up at the other desk to slowly and repeatedly enquire about opening savings accounts. All the while, other members of these institutions stood outside holding banners accusing HSBC of exploiting low paid workers, saying “Give HSBC a Living Wage for Christmas.” The entire branch was brought to a standstill. Anxious Christmas shoppers stood helpless and astonished as this spectacle frustrated their attempts to withdraw money.

They heard that wages were so bad that workers needed to take on multiple jobs, forcing them to choose between feeding their kids and seeing them.

These nuns, priests and other Christians planned this action to secure a liveable wage for all who work at HSBC, but they also had broader ambitions. The East London Communities Organisation (TELCO), a broad-based coalition of citizens from churches, mosques, and other faith and community groups began to organise for a pay rate which was enough to live on, the amount which is now known as the Real Living Wage (currently £11.95 in London; £10.90 everywhere else). Each of these citizens had been listening to the people in their institutions. They heard that wages were so bad that workers needed to take on multiple jobs, forcing them to choose between feeding their kids and seeing them, and preventing them from praying and worshipping. Motivated by the belief that all human beings are of equal value and dignity in the eyes of God, these Christian communities, alongside the other groups in TELCO began campaigning for a fair and just rate of pay.

The new neighbour

As these discussions were ongoing they could see the new HSBC tower slowly ascending above their East London skyline. Considerable amounts of government money had been spent on the infrastructure of Docklands, which would serve this tower. TELCO citizens discerned that if it was going to benefit those who lived in east London, there would need to be a living wage for everyone who would work in that building. Therefore, they decided to ask the bank to make contracts for cleaning and security at the new tower on the condition that workers be paid enough to live on, in East London (£6.30 at the time). A number of religious and civic leaders had written to the HSBC chairman, Sir John Bond, to request a meeting to discuss these poverty wages. However, they had heard nothing back.

At this point, the nuns at St Antony’s came up with their plan. Visitors and members of the 2000 strong congregation would leave coins in the collection when they light candles in church, and the nuns were accustomed to depositing them every Tuesday. However, they decided to keep hold of them for several months until they managed to fill that small van. Eventually, on 19 December they set out in it to Oxford Street, with priests and parishioners in tow, and brought this branch to its knees.

The action worked. Within an hour Sir John had agreed to meet with TELCO members at St Philip's Church, Plaistow, to discuss their demands that cleaning and security contracts pay a living wage. Negotiations continued until 2004, when HSBC agreed to the campaigner’s demands, ensuring that every contractor pays a living wage, sick pay, pension and free access to a trade union. This victory built great momentum for the movement for a Real Living Wage, which is now voluntarily paid by over 12,000 UK employers. Therefore, this life-giving campaign for economic justice finds its origins, in part, with a group of nuns saving up their small change, because their faith led them to believe in the inextinguishable dignity and value of all human lives.

Column

Change

Community

9 May 2024

4 min read

Reform votes: what really matters in the end

Two votes, three decades apart.

George Pitcher

George is a visiting fellow at the London School of Economics and an Anglican priest.

A grand dinner table set for a meal sits within a large room with paintings on the wall.

The dining room of the Garrick Club.

I was this week one of several hundred members of the Garrick Club, with many more attending online, crammed into a central London conference room to vote on whether women could be admitted as members for the first time since our founding in 1831.

We Garrick members rather fancy ourselves as a secret society – and it was a rich irony that our vote was held in the same block as the Freemasons’ Hall in Great Queen Street.

Actually, I rather like the tradition that what’s said and done in the Garrick stays in the Garrick. So this isn’t about our club’s internal wrangling and politics, beyond the now widespread news that women were voted as eligible for membership by a majority of 60 per cent.

Rather than go further into that, I want to compare it with another well-fought fight for women’s inclusion: The admission of the female gender to the priesthood of the Church of England, more or less exactly 30 years ago in 1994.

Much of what was going on in the Church then was being rehearsed again in London WC2 this week. You might call it long overdue dismantlements of patriarchal institutions, even if neither the Church nor our club would self-identify as such. No case could continue to be sustained for all-male preferment in our Church or in our club.

To their great credit, the vote was won for reform by those who decided to work together, without rancour or resentment, in preference to further division and bitterness.

There are two observations I would make of the Church precedent that may be of some comfort to my fellow club members, who may feel that nothing will ever be quite the same again. The first of these is quite a quick point. After a couple of weeks of women’s priesthood, almost everyone in the Church wondered what all the fuss had been about. Ordained women became a natural part of the priestly fabric of the Church really that quickly.

Yes, provision had to be made for those who in conscience couldn’t accept women’s ordained ministry, so the process was not without its pain. But three decades on, women priests (and subsequently and inevitably bishops) are so much part of the weave of that fabric that most church congregations feel they’ve always been there.

The second point I would make is that I know anecdotally of very many traditionalists opposed to women’s ordination who, at the General Synod, either voted for women or abstained when the result became inevitable. To have fought a last-ditch, hopeless defence could only have lastingly damaged the Church’s reputation and ministry.

To their great credit, the vote was won for reform by those who decided to work together, without rancour or resentment, in preference to further division and bitterness. My feeling is that a tranche of Garrickian votes were cast for similar reasons.

These were women at the top of their game. It’s just taken a couple of millennia for our churches and clubs to catch up.

The comparison of a gentleman’s club and gentleman’s church is an imperfect one. Members of a church could be male or female; only the clergy were strictly male. There were profound theological and ecclesiological arguments (though I don’t share them) made against the prospect of women priests by Anglo-Catholics, which aren’t available to fans of men-only clubs.

But the similarities between the institutions are founded on the principles of patriarchy nevertheless. The idea that men, in private circumstances, can behave and associate in the pretence that they are still in charge of everything, as they were in the nineteenth century, both at church and in clubland.

This doesn’t matter much when it comes to the likes of all-boy or all-girl sports teams – though it’s a delight to see Woodlanders Football Club, Lioness-cubs to a girl, beat the boys to win their cup.

It begins to matter very much indeed when the senior figures of professions and public institutions seek to associate only with their male colleagues. That’s as true of a boss who takes only the boys in the office to a rugby match at Twickenham as it is of gentlemen’s clubs. It may be patriarchy-lite, but it is rooted in the same hegemony that gave the Church its patriarchs.

It’s an irony as rich as the location of this week’s Garrick vote that the gospel is far from patriarchal in its narratives, even though the language of Father and Son so ostensibly is. The Nazarene, scandalously for his day, freely associates with women. The Jesus movement is radical in gender equality in a manner that its Church has failed down the centuries to emulate.

Jesus gives full messianic attention to a despised and shamed Samaritan woman; he saves an adulterous woman (code for prostitute) from stoning; he stops to address a bleeding woman who just wants to touch him; as the risen Christ, he gives a woman, Mary of Magdala, the greatest apostolic mission in history to tell his dispersed disciples what she has witnessed.

Little wonder women appear so prominently in the Acts of the Apostles. These were women at the top of their game. It’s just taken a couple of millennia for our churches and clubs to catch up.