One of the principles to which Pope Francis returns frequently in his teaching is the importance of seeing from the peripheries, because “hidden there are ways of looking at the world that can give us all a fresh start”.[1] In Fratelli Tutti, he again repeats that those on the peripheries of society “have another way of looking at things; they see aspects of reality that are invisible to the centres of power where weighty decisions are made” (no. 215). For the Pope, peripheries are not simply geographical locations but also “existential”; the places of “the mystery of sin, of pain, of injustice, or ignorance and indifference to religion, of intellectual currents, and of all forms of misery”. He uses the principle to argue for inclusion and a culture of encounter, within his vision of social friendship.
As a principle of methodology, this is deeply attractive. It asks us to reflect on who we listen to, and who influences our worldview, our social discernment and our practical judgements and plans. It recalls Gustavo Gutierrez’ comment: “You say you care about the poor. Then tell me, what are their names?” In reality, it is more complicated than the Pope’s narrative admits.
During the last two years I was engaged in a research project working with women@thewell, a charity that provides services to women whose lives have been affected by prostitution and advocates for legislative change to protect women from sexual violence and exploitation. The research involved listening to women who are either still trapped in the sex trade or have managed to exit, and to professional staff from several faith-based charities working in this field. The aim was to bring the women’s voices into dialogue with Catholic social teaching and theological ethics and to see what emerged from this most hidden periphery.[2]
The first challenge in listening to those living in various peripheries is that of being in the right space. Access to those who are most excluded is rightly a journey in itself, navigating between the honesty of recognising how little I know and how my own worldview limits what I see, and the troubling risk of ‘othering’ those whom I hope to encounter. This research was only possible because the charities involved already provide safe spaces and, in the relevant professional language, trauma-informed relational care, to women caught up in this form of violence and exclusion. The role of intermediaries is crucial. In this project they were the professional workers who support the women as they seek to move forward in their lives; they create the relational safety which makes listening possible. For me personally, it was a privilege to meet and listen to the women who took part. “Each of us can learn something from others”, Francis says (no. 215). I experienced their courage, humour and honesty as they interpreted their lives. The encounters gave me a sense of obligation, although it is not easy to work out what that obligation asks of me.
In Fratelli Tutti, Francis says that “[t]ruth means recognising the pain of women who are victims of violence and abuse… Every act of violence committed against a human being is a wound in humanity’s flesh; every violent death diminishes us as people…” (no. 227). He argues that truth is “an inseparable companion of justice and mercy” (no. 227), and all three are essential in building what he terms “social peace” (no. 176, 197, 217, 232). He then discusses process of social reconciliation through dialogue, in a generalist vision that soon loses sight of the specific pain of women who are victims of violence and abuse. But his affirmation is a starting point for a much-needed journey that Catholic social teaching and sexual ethics needs to make, in which listening to the experience of women affected by prostitution matters very much.
I can’t claim that I can see the world as women who have been affected by prostitution do. But I did learn a little about the complexity of listening, of trying to glimpse what they see, and the fierce respect which must frame interpretative work engaging with their voices. I learned that when anyone is sunk deep in a trap such as prostitution becomes, it takes extra courage to lift your eyes to wider horizons of moral or social concern. The world that they see is refracted through bodily experience of invasion, fear and isolation. Despite all of that, the women’s moral selves survived; and the modesty of their aspirations was in contrast to the safety and justice they desired yet could barely access, and the failure of our systems to provide protection. The particular courage of those who chose to use their voice in public, disclosing their identity and experience, is humbling.
Although Fratelli Tutti only treats the violence and abuse of women in a cursory way, it is imperative that we listen to those affected by it (image by David Fanuel: Unsplash)
It matters how we listen. I found the work of Carol Gilligan and other feminist writers crucial in building a theoretical framework. Feminist research methodology is open to greater presence of the researcher’s self, to the making of connections so that the encounter has crucial notes of mutuality. One of moments I valued most happened when a woman was talking about what it meant to have a home of her own that felt safe; it was ‘better than sex’ she said to me, and we both laughed, in complicit recognition that many women would join. The method I used, associative imagery, ensured co-determination of the interview agenda; the women chose photographs to interpret their own lives. I followed and listened and then took on the risk of a further interpretation, using tools drawn from CST and feminist ethics, to discern in their voices the fragments of truth that need to be heard and recognised.
Disciplined research of this kind is not the only way to listen to voices from peripheries. Some choose to live among those who are excluded or hidden, and bring an embedded narrative of what it is like. Poverty Truth Commissions are another invaluable model, and organisations such as Church Action on Poverty and JRS show what is possible when those who are experts by experience speak and lead. But the most excluded and abandoned peripheries are harder to include: those places and experiences where people cannot speak, or fear to speak or even to be seen. Following Francis’ principle, what is seen through the eyes of those who live in such places may be the most valuable insights of all.
So we must try. There is a duty that arises from Francis’ vision of social friendship and social peace, to attend to those voices which are the most excluded of the excluded. Not everyone can have the privilege I had, of direct personal listening, but there are other ways. I would recommend that anyone who is open to what we need to learn about the impact of prostitution to read Rachel Moran’s memoir, Paid For: My Journey through Prostitution. It is a small act of solidarity to try to begin to understand and then to let your language and attitudes change and influence others.
Francis’ principle that we should listen to voices from peripheries is simultaneously essential and risk-bearing. Even framing it risks ‘othering’ people; writing this blog holds that risk, and yet it matters to try. I know too that recognising my own difference and privilege is ethically uncomfortable. And actually doing the listening raises questions that keep disclosing the broken social and political dynamics that we prefer to avoid. In relation to prostitution the questions relate to our tolerance of the sex trade, these include the assumption that men have a right to buy sexual access to women’s bodies; as one of my interviewees asked, what has happened in our society that men want to do this stuff? Then even if you have the privilege of being able to do such listening, what do you do with what you have seen and heard? The research may be written up but, there’s another more personal task that remains; a conundrum that is less easily dispatched.
Pat Jones completed a doctorate studying Catholic homelessness charities and CST in 2019. She has recently been working with women@thewell on how Catholic social thought should respond to the social violence of prostitution. Previously she worked as chief operations officer of Depaul International and as deputy director of CAFOD.
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[1] Pope Francis in conversation with Austin Ivereigh, Let Us Dream: The Path to a Better Future (London: Simon and Schuster), p.119
[2] The research will be published during 2021.