Banksy’s newest work shows a judge, in a traditional wig and gown, using a gavel to strike a protestor lying on the ground below him, holding up a blood-spattered placard. It appeared a day after the Met Police arrested nearly 900 people at Parliament Square protesting in support of the proscribed group Palestine Action.

Defend Our Juries, who organised the protest, made this statement: “Among the 857 arrestees were vicars and priests, war veterans and descendants of Holocaust survivors, retired teachers and healthcare workers,” and accused the police of making “many false claims” to justify arresting peaceful demonstrators with signs that read: “I oppose genocide – I support Palestine Action.”

Speaking for the Met Police, Deputy Assistant Commissioner Claire Smart, issued this statement: “You can express your support for a cause without committing an offence under the Terrorism Act ... we have a duty to enforce the law without fear or favour. If you advertise that you are intending to commit a crime, we have no option but to respond accordingly.”

But what if, (hypothetically) all possible ways of expressing your support for a cause become an offence under the Terrorism Act?

“But that could never happen,” you might protest.

How certain are you? And what exactly do you know about the process for proscribing an organisation as a terrorist group under the Terrorism Act 2000 – an act that was widely criticised when passed as putting forward too broad a definition of “terrorism” and too few mechanisms for holding the state to account for abuse of those powers?

You be the judge:

• Here is the explanatory memorandum prepared by the UK Home Office and laid before Parliament, with the draft order for proscription of Palestine Action (PA), alongside two other organisations: Maniacs Murder Cult (MMC) and Russian Imperial Movement (RIM).
• Here is the debate in UK Parliament on 2 July 2025, during which MPs raised concerns and sought to differentiate the severity of the evidence with respect to PA as compared to MMC and RIM, and requested the option of voting separately on proscription of each organisation. Dan Jarvis, Minister of State for Security, refused, citing both precedent (this is the way we’ve always done it) and neutrality (refusing to unbundle possibly randomly bundled orders for proscription, somehow demonstrates that we are ideologically neutral).
• Neutrality is, of course, a fiction in matters of politics. And here, finally, is the list of the 385 MPs who voted in favour of proscription, and the 20 MPs who voted against.

The process of criminalising behaviour, and of making your actions – however right or just or private or justifiable you think they might be – illegal, is in most cases, quite clear.

But once your behaviour is criminalised, enforcement against you is backed by the full powers of the state.

The question that a human rights lawyer would ask – and that you should ask yourself (and keep asking yourself) is:

If this law were used against me, in circumstances where I feel I have acted reasonably, and my opponents have acted abusively, would the outcome be fair?

If you feel the answer is “no,” whether or not the law directly affects you today, consider whether – out of self interest, or solidarity – you should nevertheless do something to oppose, or reform, it.

For the record:

• The punishment for supporting a group proscribed under the Terrorism Act 2000, like Palestine Action, is up to a maximum sentence of 14 years imprisonment, or an unlimited fine.
• The punishment for criminal damage – what Banksy’s latest work is being investigated as – is a maximum sentence of 10 years’ imprisonment.
• The punishment for supporting a group that actually commits genocide…this is harder to calculate…for those of you reading this article who are criminal law experts, I’m all ears?

Some final thoughts

This is a picture of the site of Banky’s work a few days later: a foreboding shadow, after the fine detail has been scrubbed away.

There is something that sits uncomfortably, in this picture, and this political moment in the UK. The Met Police, and the justice system – in the name of defending the rule of law, the impartiality of the judiciary, prosecutorial discretion and the integrity of policing systems – being drawn into direct and visible conflict with a growing popular movement, committed to continuing to protest in favour of a cause – regardless of, and sometimes perhaps because of, the criminal consequences.

“When the law is used as a tool to crush civil liberties, it does not extinguish dissent – it strengthens it.” – Defend our Juries

…

If you enjoyed this brief interruption, and would like to continue thinking about the impact of Banksy’s latest work, I can recommend: Banksy’s erased mural: the irony of power by Ángela León Cervera

To learn more about your right to protest in Scotland, and practical solidarity: Scottish Community & Activist Legal Project

To donate to support Palestinians in Gaza: Medical Aid for Palestinians

First published on LinkedIn on 12 September 2025:

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/solidarity-pursuit-justice-art-dissent-jen-ang-uwlee

This feels a little bit like a metaphor for how it feels, at the end of January 2025, to be an observer of global politics if you live in the Western world (by which I mean, the global north).

There’s a storm a’coming

In late 2024, we saw the rise of far-right parties across Europe and also the re-election of Donald Trump as President of the United States.

Although the UK July 2024 elections ended 14 years of Conservative Party rule, returning the Labour Party to power, it is clear that people living in Britain are politically and socially connected to global movements – and we can expect to see right and far-right parties gain political power here, too.

What does that mean for people who still care about things like: ending poverty and war, halting the destruction of our planet, and making the world a more equal place for everyone?

Like, shouldn’t those things be priority for all of us?

And why isn’t it?

So why can’t we see it clearly?

I can skim most major media outlets and tell you that the leading stories are rarely about the important things. My social media feeds offer me updates that sit a bit closer to what I believe to be important, but these are self-curated experiences and therefore limited – literally – by who and what I already know.

I sometimes wish that there were media platforms out there that could just consistently prioritise making the important things visible, accessible and exciting to learn about.

(Hats off to investigative journalists like the good folks at The Ferret and Peter Geoghegan‘s Democracy for Sale newsletter who do just that… but they are the few and the brave, and we need many, many more people supported to do this kind of hard and illuminating work.)

In the absence of a world, where objective, thoughtful investigative journalism is a mainstream thing, I would recommend challenging yourself to find and learn about diverse and critical perspectives on, well, everything – especially the stuff you’re certain that you’re right about. You won’t regret it, I promise.

And who is going to build our shelters?

By which I mean, this storm is destructive. As my partner reminded me last night, “people all around the world voted for change, and that’s what those parties must deliver“.

Far right ideology is about promoting the idea that a small group of people, tightly defined by a very specific set of racial, gender, religious and socio-economic criteria, deserve more rights, resources and freedoms than everybody else.

If you disagree with what I wrote, I’m really, really happy to have that conversation. Like, please, prove me wrong.

But if I’m right … delivering for change on this platform is going to be destructive, and dangerous for people whose race, gender or gender identity, or religious or cultural identity or something else – puts them on the wrong side of this tiny circle of people who right-led governments believe deserve protection.

So we need to build shelters for the people we love, who are facing fear and harm – and who cannot turn to the state to keep them safe

We need women’s refuges, for all women

We need sanctuary movements for migrants

We need safe spaces for LGBT+ people

People are already hard at work, building these places. They have, in fact, always been here. You will find them in the community – handing out cups of tea, helping people make phone calls and fill in forms and driving all across the city to pick up and deliver things because someone, somewhere, needed something.

Please help those people. Help them build the shelters that we’re all going to need, eventually, to wait out this storm.

And finally, …

Who is going to rebuild our world, when the storm passes?

Destruction is also opportunity for creation.

I won’t push this point too hard, because I’ve already written about the power of dreaming and why we should all read banned books – but we must keep working on compelling alternative visions of how the world could be.

One day, someone is going to turn to you and ask you what you would have done, if you had the power to make a change. It would be good if you had an answer ready for that day

Find your rainbow (and your sense of humour)

I’ve always loved rainbows. Who doesn’t?

Aside from the fact that they are clearly a sign that magic exists all around us, they remind us that the storm always ends.

Whilst you’re waiting for that to happen, remember to breathe.. and to keep laughing, even if it’s at yourself.

Here’s a throwback from the Covid years that I found today:

So, to recap: how to survive stormy weather

support independent journalism

build safe spaces for each other

dream and build visions for a better future

remember to laugh (at yourself) and find your rainbow

First published on LinkedIn on 24 January 2025:

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/how-survive-stormy-weather-jen-ang-uaufe/

What does it mean to be human.

That’s what I wrote this morning, and it was a declarative sentence, not a question.

Today, the announcement that the Israeli cabinet is due to approve a ceasefire in Gaza is on my mind, and all my heart pulls towards the hope that peace comes soon, but that is mixed with sadness for everything already past, and some fear about what is yet to come.

Also, guilt.

About a year ago, I was commissioned to write a brief reflection on Holocaust Memorial Day for an audience of Scottish lawyers.  It was briefly published online on 26 January 2024, before it was taken down because of a complaint from someone senior in the organisation.

I was told that I was free to self-publish what I had written; but I was too hurt and angry to do that.  In hindsight, I wish I had published it last year.

A year on, yesterday, I took it out to have a look and I thought there might still be some value to publishing it now. Sometimes it is good to return to our reflections on the future, and get honest about where we got it right and where we got it wrong.  Sadly, I think I got this one right – but will let you be the judge.

(If you don’t feel like wading through the article, feel free to scroll down to the postscript and reflections at the end …)

Fragility of Freedom: Reflections on Law and Lighting the Darkness for International Holocaust Memorial Day 2024

What is IHMD?

Every year, on 27th January, we mark International Holocaust Memorial Day, in memory of the 6 million Jews murdered during the Holocaust, as well as the millions also murdered under Nazi persecution of other groups. We also remember the victims of more recent genocides, including in Cambodia, Rwanda, Bosnia and Darfur.

To mark this day, we light a candle – in memory of those who perished, and also in solidarity with millions of people who are, today and in this moment, sitting in their homes, in the dark and the cold, facing state-led persecution and the injury and death of their families because of something that made them who they are, for example their ethnicity or faith – for example, the Rohingya, Uyghurs, Yazidis, Ukrainians and Palestinians in Gaza.

Why Does IHMD Matter?

The Holocaust Memorial Day Trust, a charity funded by the UK Government to support and promote IHMD in the UK, was founded to help us “learn from genocide – for a better future”. The Trust supports events that bring people together to learn about the past, in the believe that doing so will promote empathy and renew our hope and resolve to take collective action for a better future.

This year, in the context of the ongoing conflict in Israel and Gaza, the Trust has issued a statement which deplores the death of innocent civilians, both Israeli and Palestinian, and calls for an end to the conflict.  They have taken special care to remind organisers:

“The men, women and children murdered were of many different faiths, ethnicities, classes and many other different characteristics, but they all shared a common humanity. At a time of division remembering our common humanity is more important than ever.”

Holocaust Memorial Trust, Guidance to Organisers in Light of the Conflict in Israel and Gaza, January 2024

The Fragility of Freedom: Lessons from History and the Role of Law

Every year, the Trust chooses a theme and this year they have focused on: The Fragility of Freedom, noting:

“Freedom means different things to different people. What is clear is that in every genocide that has taken place, those who are targeted for persecution have had their freedom restricted and removed, before many of them are murdered.”

We have seen states use identity-based restrictions of freedom historically, and at present, in order to control populations, and the use of these types of restrictions are now widely recognised to form a crucial early part of the Ten Stages of Genocide.  Taking, for example, solely the example of restrictions on freedom of movement that have preceded significant and large-scale harm, injury and death of populations:

• During WWII, as the German army started occupying European countries, Jewish people in those countries were often forced into ghettos, living in cramped conditions and often doing hard labour for the Nazis or German industries.
• The Rwanda Genocide in 1994 when Tutsis were ordered by state radio broadcasts to stay in their homes – we now acknowledge this order enabled perpetrators to target and kill Tutsi households – ending in the murder of over 1 million Tutsis in just 100 days.
• Uyghur Muslims in China are forcibly relocated to Xinjiang Province and since 2017, forced “re-education” in internment camps with the aim of eradicating Uyghur cultural identity.  It is estimated that up to 1.8 million people, not only Uyghurs but also Kazakhs, Krygyz and other ethnic Turkic people have been detained in these camps.
• Since 2005, the 2 million Palestinians living as refugees in the Gaza Strip, an area only 25 miles long, have been subject to a total blockade imposed by the Israeli state – by land, sea and air.  Today’s estimates are that 25,000 people have now died in Gaza since October 2023, approximately 2/3 of them women and children.

The Role of Law: In Whose Service?

As members of the legal profession in Scotland, we should pause to reflect on the role of law in preventing or redressing genocide – or even, in its use in halting steps towards an outcome that might one day be recognised as genocide.

We must recognise that the law has often been used in the past to legitimate and reinforce targeted discrimination, ill treatment and killing that has preceded genocide, rather than as a force that protected our common humanity and our better values.

In every one of the above cases, the state actors imposing divisive restrictions like these have contested claims that their actions were unlawful or unjustifiable – maintaining their actions to be lawful, necessary and legitimate.

Furthermore, very often, in recent times, state actors who have justified imposing restrictions of freedom that directly impact, or disproportionately impact, specific populations have found ways to do so within the law – relying on established exclusions to the application of the law – for example, the interests of combatting terrorism (protecting public security).

A reflection, therefore:

Studying the history of genocide suggests that the global international human rights law as it stands, and leaving state actors to hold themselves to account for breaches of people’s rights – be that the Genocide Convention, or the European Convention on Human Rights – is not, and never will be sufficient to protect us from intentional, state-led persecution of minoritised groups, or the erosion of mechanisms of accountability, like the rule of law.

And therefore, we require both international courts and tribunals – as well as curious, interested and critical global public opinion and movements – to continue to independently scrutinise states that seek to restrict peoples’ freedoms and, where necessary, hold them to account.

Bringing it All Back Home: The Role of Lawyers in Scotland and the Fragility of Freedom at Home

So what can we do?

First, we can acknowledge our common humanity and the interdependence of our communities, and look for ways – large and small – of engaging in the sharing, learning and reflection that the Trust seeks to encourage on IHMD.

The conflicts in Ukraine, Gaza, Sudan and Bosnia may feel far, in time and place, from Scotland.  But as our world grows ever smaller, you may find that connections between you and these conflicts only one, or two, relationships apart.

Second, we can take collective action for a better future.

We can take action to support people facing persecution around the world, by: lighting a candle in remembrance and solidarity, donating to humanitarian efforts to sustain and support people in current conflicts and using our own legal and professional skills, resources and networks to amplify the calls for justice from victims of discrimination and help preserve the evidence of harmful and genocidal activities.

And finally, we can take collective action at home, too.

The Trust goes on to warn that our own freedoms are fragile, too.  They urge us to remain vigilant where states seek to restrict our other civil liberties, as a means of reducing challenge to unlawful state action and the ability to hold the state to account.  They add:

“Not only do perpetrator regimes erode the freedom of the people they are targeting, demonstrating how fragile freedom is, they also restrict the freedoms of others around them, to prevent people from challenging the regime.

Despite this, in every genocide there are those who risk their own freedom to help others, to preserve others’ freedom or to stand up to the regime.”

We have seen, in the past several years, attacks by UK Government figures on lawyers and the rule of law, and on the independence of our judiciary – and we have seen the law societies across the UK denounce these attacks and vigorously defend the work of public lawyers who act on behalf of individuals holding the government to account.

We have also seen UK legislation with the aim of restricting the right to protest, and a concern that increasing restrictions to the right to protest, together with an attempt to discredit the work of public lawyers and an independent judiciary, may herald the start of an erosion of state accountability that ends with increasing loss of freedoms for us all.

So in conclusion, as members of the legal profession in Scotland, and of wider global legal community, we can collectively do our part – at home and abroad – to urge governments and institutions to uphold the rule of law, to protect the human rights defenders who defend the freedoms of others and to remain mindful of the fragility of our freedoms and vigilant over the small flames we tend in the darkness.

Jen Ang is a human rights lawyer and co-founder of JustRight Scotland.  She is also an ambassador for Human Rights Measurement Initiative and founder of Lawmanity, a legal consultancy that seeks to make the law more equal for humans.

Postscript

1. The current estimated death toll attributable to the 15-month conflict in Gaza is now 46,707, approximately 18,000 of whom are children. This represents 1 in every 50 people in Gaza. Al Jazeera, 15 January 2025.
2. South Africa instituted proceedings at the International Court of Justice pursuant to the Genocide Convention, to which both Israel and South Africa are signatories, accusing Israel of committing genocide, war crimes, and crimes against humanity against Palestinians in Gaza. In March 2024, the ICJ imposed interim measures ordering Israel to halt its assault on Rafah. Israel did not, in the end, abide by this order.
3. In November 2024, the International Criminal Court’s Pre-Trial Chamber issued arrest warrants for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and Yoav Gallant (Israeli Minister of Defence 2022-24) for the alleged commission of war crimes and crimes against humanity committed in the Gaza strip from October 2023.

Thanks for reading The Long View again this week and it’s okay if you didn’t make it to the end of the article! This is a tough subject, especially so when the news is so bleak and difficult to process at what is already a dark and unforgiving time of year.

Final reflections:

I’m glad I decided to publish this article today.

The freedom to think, write and dream of alternate futures and to engage in discourse that aims to make sense of our present – in all its imperfect, contradictory and confused glory – is precious.

And one we should use wisely, remembering that our freedoms exist to uplift, nurture and protect our common humanity.

First published on LinkedIn on 17 January 2025:

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/genocide-humanity-censorship-role-lawyers-jen-ang-m1qee/

Here’s how I got there.

Most of my career, I’ve worked in the charity sector, and one of the reasons this has really suited me (and I have stayed so long) is that I do not mind being seriously – sometimes embarrassingly – underpaid for my labour.

(* This is not a cheap dig at my previous employers, or indeed at JustRight Scotland where our brilliant and values-led CEO commissioned an independent review of pay scales and actively encouraged staff to unionise. More just a recognition that charity sector salaries are lower across the board – and the gap is particularly stark in professions that command high salaries in the private sector, like law.)

Also, for reasons that I haven’t fully explored but know to be true, charities tend to undercharge for their work, across the board.

This makes no sense tactically, because who needs money more than charities, who are going to use it for the public good?

How we feel about money

But I think the wider issue might go to internalised attitudes towards money. This includes the possibility that in a capitalist society where value is linked to financial reward, people may think services provided by lower paid professions are actually less valuable.

It also includes our own biases about money, and how we feel when we monetise our labour.

For me, the issues stack up like this:

• I definitely grew up in a “money is bad” home. My dad was a small college professor for many years before he joined the diplomatic service – and even as a diplomat, he saw himself more as a public servant than a working class boy from Roxbury, embracing the rewards of upward social mobility. He was pretty awkward about it, actually, much to my mom’s distress. She was raised middle class and entirely comfortable with money.
• My dad’s professional choices meant I was raised middle class, but – perhaps because of his own discomfort – he took the opportunity to knock me down a peg or two, whenever I returned home from school or college, a little too big for my boots.
• Partly for this reason, I’m aware of my positionality – my social location in relation to things like gender, class, ethnicity, ability and geographic location. When I think about asking people market rate for the work I do – even when I know it’s a fair price, that I’ll do a good job and probably even overdeliver – I feel deep discomfort.
• I’m not consistent or even very principled about this. For some reason, if someone else is taking market value for my work (and paying me less), I seem to cope better. Something I also find disturbing.

If my dad were still around, I would like to speak to him about this. As it is, I’m just left puzzling over these pieces, looking for solutions that will be effective and also feel good. For my own wellbeing, I need answers that sit right with me.

Why now?

As many of you know, I’ve stepped down from JustRight Scotland, the charity I co-founded, earlier this year, and now run a legal practice at Lawmanity. Lawmanity is, for the moment, a private limited company and I am a sole practitioner. That means I don’t work with or for anyone else, and I set my own fees for my work.

The good news (for people who hire Lawmanity) is that overheads are really low at the moment and I do all the work. This is arguably very good value for clients at market rates – and exceptional value, below market rates.

But I also want to do work for people who can’t afford market rates – this is consistent with a guiding principle for me: people who cannot afford to pay for lawyers deserve the very best lawyers.

So, Pay It Forward?

That’s how I got to the idea of a Pay It Forward fund. I already do a lot of free advice through Lawmanity for community organisations and individuals who approach me, but on an ad hoc basis. Sometimes, people ask if they can offer me a donation or compensation for my time, and until now, I have declined.

I have also (for lots of reasons) held back from paid client casework – but now that things are settling and I’m starting to think about Year 2, I wonder whether a Pay It Forward fund would be a great solution for all of these different challenges.

One of my favourite local bookshops, Lighthouse Books in Edinburgh has an unbelievably great pay it forward scheme which allows people to donate money so other people can afford to buy books.

Another example, perhaps more well known, is the concept of a suspended coffee (from Naples: a caffe sospeso) – when customers are invited to pay for two coffees, one to drink now, and another left “suspended” to be served to another person, later in the day, who might ask for one but not have the means to pay.

I love these initiatives because they are about people helping people – but more importantly, people helping strangers, who they recognise as having the same needs and desires as themselves.

This is an act of solidarity, and a very humanity-affirming thing to invite people to do.

But what if…

Of course it’s not entirely as simple as that.

I also struggle with the idea that we shouldn’t increase reliance on charity, or “taxing people” to fund what should be public services rather than just lobbying for government to spend more money on equality and access to justice. Setting up private donation schemes feels like defeat, surrender of that principle that government is responsible for all of us.

I’m also really troubled by the idea that poor people give more to charity than rich people, and that wealthy young people are more generous than wealthy older people. I would prefer a system where government gets on with the job of running a progressive system of taxation and distributes our collective resources to all, according to their need.

But, we are a really, really long way from that, at least in Scotland, the UK and the US, right now. And even if we get closer, making those systems work fairly for everyone is a longer way off still. I love looking back over 20th century progressive victories like winning the franchise for women, and desegregation in most western democracies – but the lessons we live with are that racism and misogyny are alive and kicking, still today.

Over to you!

So help me out – should I start a Pay it Forward fund? Are there any great models out there for what this can look like in legal services? Have you got any advice for me?

And, where do you sit on that line between individual and collective responsibility for funding things that other humans need?

…

Thanks for joining me again this week at the Long View, and if you made it to the end, for helping me doing the thinking. Sending warmth and gratitude your way, today and for the weekend.

First published on LinkedIn on 15 November 2024:
https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/pay-forward-acts-solidarity-surrender-jen-ang-ekxne/

Why design matters

The concept is really simple: design changes people’s lives.

The only question is: how aware or (consciously unaware) are designers, builders and (policy)makers of the human impact of what they have made?

By design, I do mean: everything we build, physical or conceptual (like social policy)

• landscapes and buildings
• cups and bottles
• clothing
• job application forms
• taxation policy
• democratic systems

By extension, the more people a design will impact, the more important (in human terms) that design is. (Again, whether or not the designer, builder or maker has given any thought to what the impact will be, for other people.)

Better design for humans: Why regulation matters

We do recognise this, in how we organise and regulate society.

We also recognise that designers and builders are very good at making new things, but they are not necessary good at recognising human impacts.

This is because people are driven to make new things because they are interested in art, or in making money, or in making something they enjoy, or in getting a promotion, or in solving a specific problem…

…but they are not necessarily interested in mapping human impacts of what they have made.

This is why we have regulation – we want to encourage dreamers, designers, builders and makers to do their thing, but government regulations also give us (people as consumers, subjects or objects of designed things) protection and a safety net that reduces the risk that those things will injure or harm us.

For example, here in the UK I can rely on these things:

• The food I buy in a licensed restaurant or shop will not poison me.
• The brakes of the approaching car will work, if I step out into the crosswalk in front of it.
• The angry man across the street probably is not carrying a gun.

We also have to hope that regulators know who we are (as individuals) and have our best interests at heart when they go do their job.

That is something that we can’t necessarily rely on in the UK because this is a very big job, regulators are also only human, and we live in a democracy which means that democratic processes* also have something to do with how regulators do their job – what powers they have, how they are appointed and what they are told to focus on.

*Democracies are good for lots of reasons, but they are not generally good at protecting minorities or people who are marginalised and disenfranchised (meaning they do not, or cannot vote).

Better design for humans: Why user experience matters

We don’t have to wait for state intervention, of course, we can also DIY better design by being thoughtful about involving a wide range of people in the design and testing process of the things we build.

This is, of course, more costly and requires the designer and maker to actually value and prioritise doing things this way.

So, when someone tells you they have made something great, you could help make that design better, by asking: great for what? Great for who?

And we can also ask government to be better at universal design of universal services.

That is the aim of modern accountability mechanisms like the Public Sector Equality Duty, which requires Scottish public authorities to assess the equality impact of policies and decisions that they make (for humans) – as well as a driver for accountability bodies like the First Minister’s National Advisory Council on Women and Girls to continue to press for recognition of the gender impacts of government policymaking and for disabled people’s organisations (DPOs) like Inclusion Scotland and Glasgow Disability Alliance to continue to press for disabled people to be designers and builders in all places that affect them.

Making better choices: Putting people first in universal public services

Here’s something I saw in Manchester yesterday, and that I loved:

A Manchester city centre free bus stopped to let me cross the road. I wasn’t at a crosswalk (although I should have been). The driver didn’t have to stop; he just did it. He waved me on, and smiled.

I’d like to think that the driver knows he delivers a public service, and his job is to think of and help everyone he comes across, in his day. He doesn’t collect money. He doesn’t check people’s ID to determine their eligibility to get on the bus: their age, or whether they live in Manchester or are just visiting, or whether they are migrant. He just lets people on and off the bus.

This is pretty cool, and it reduces barriers for LOTS of people. But more importantly, it can be used by anyone at all, regardless of whether or not they need to use it. This is a freedom-expanding and life-expanding universal public service for humans.

Like libraries. And public schools. And city parks and national parks.

More like this, please

Thanks so much for reading again this week, and I’d love to hear your thoughts on places where we get this right, and places where there is so much more to do!

I’m doing some thinking and writing on this topic this week – universal public services and universal design – so really welcome feedback, because I really believe that no individual human can (or should) be the sole architect of anything that has to do with all of us!

First published on LinkedIn on 25 October 2024:
https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/more-human-how-we-can-make-better-choices-every-day-inclusion-jen-ang-wad2e/

you must live

to tell my story

to sell my things

to buy a piece of cloth

and some strings,

(make it white with a long tail)

so that a child, somewhere in Gaza

while looking heaven in the eye

awaiting his dad who left in a blaze —

and bid no one farewell

not even to his flesh

not even to himself —

sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above,

and thinks for a moment an angel is there

bringing back love.

If I must die

let it bring hope,

let it be a story.

Refaat Alareer, Palestinian writer, poet, professor and activist (1979-2023)

First published on LinkedIn on 4 October 2024:
https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/i-must-die-jen-ang-nm1ae/

Could be, that Sunday-night back-to-school vibe: summer holidays (at least in Scotland) are over, and I have started a fantastic new role at the University of Glasgow School of Law this month, which (being a bricks and mortar university, unlike the The Open University Law School) has a much more defined timetable for the academic year.

Could be, I have been project planning my work for the year at Lawmanity and a fellowship project for Atlantic Fellows for Social & Economic Equity (AFSEE), and I’m asking myself questions about what matters to me right now…. and whether this work best reflects those priorities.

Putting optimism to the test

Might also be, a few recent items in the news have hit me harder than I expected:

• the sudden and unwelcome surge of racist rioting and Islamophobic attacks across the UK, including in Scotland – and the rise of far right and white supremacist organising here in the north
• the continued dehumanisation of Palestinians in Gaza, as we witness the most significant failure of international human rights and humanitarian law since WWII
• the Scottish Government’s announcement this week that they will scrap free bus travel for asylum seekers – a cruel decision at a time when even working families are struggling to afford food, clothing and transport; hard to understand given the policy would have benefitted, literally, the most impoverished people in Scotland.

This week, I see very little reflection, apology or regret in the public narrative on the impact of our words, our deeds, and our policies, for racialised people and those who are visibly Muslim. I also see and hear quite high levels of fear and isolation in racialised and minoritised communities across the UK – not in the press, but in messages and group chats, from friends and colleagues, on my phone.

State failures to protect: If we don’t talk about it, does it go away?

We talk about things that matter, so not facing up (as a society) to the truth that some of us are rightly, justifiably more afraid than others, to leave our house and go about our business, just because of how we look – this is a major issue that, in a better society than this one, should be a concern for all of us.

Just as the Don’t Be That Guy campaign in Scotland has called on men to hold other men in their lives to account for sexual offending, and my teenage girls’ TikTok feeds are full of bystander allies stepping in to stop sexual harassment in public places, we need a public movement with the same focus, resource and credibility, to step in to stop harassment and assault of black and brown people, and Muslim people, in our communities.

It breaks my heart , for example, that a judge in Plymouth, England recently sentenced a young Muslim man to 20 months in prison for throwing four cans at fascist rioters after accepting that they had thrown alcohol at him, whilst “making deeply offensive racial chants,” because, according to the judge, “what you should have done is rise above their obnoxious racism.”

It breaks my heart also because my daughters and I experienced a deeply racist incident this summer, on holiday in Switzerland, and that’s what I forced them to do – I cautioned them not to react, and told them to rise above.

It was the right thing for us to do, but it was not fair that we had to do it.

There should have been other people – ideally, people who are racialised white – to confront and stop these racist behaviours. Punishing the victim of a crime, who the state repeatedly failed to protect, feels like a significant betrayal.

Feminist lawyers have rightly called out the state failure to protect victims of misogynistic crimes, and prosecution of the victims those crimes – see for example Harriet Wistrich‘s report, Women Who Kill: how the state criminalises women we might otherwise be burying and her recent book, Sister-in-Law.

Rebuilding trust, and optimism

It would be great to see more work across sectors and movements, sharing successful learnings from the feminist and violence against women and girls (VAWG) movements for example, with activists, lawyers and policy makers who are focused on making our society a safer place for racialised people, for Muslims, for disabled people and for LGBT+ people.

After many, many years of thinking about structural inequality and social change, I’ll put my hand up and say it: I don’t know what works, and when something does work, I’m never sure why it worked. But I do also know that nothing changes, if people don’t put their shoulder to the wheel and push.

So, for this week, if you want to do something – I have some suggestions here:

• Please check in – and keep checking in – with people you know who have experienced racism, or bigotry or some other form of prejudice. Don’t stop doing that. As long as it’s respectful, most people don’t mind being thought of. It means you care – and as long as prejudice is a part of their lives, it’s something that matters to you, too.

• When you think you’ve witnessed racist behaviour or racial harassment, ask yourself: if I swapped the racial roles here, or I swapped gender or age for race, would this behaviour be unacceptable? If so, and you feel safe to do so, please call out or call in that behaviour.
• Expand your horizons. We can never experience the world as anyone other than us. But we can use our curiosity and our empathy and our imagination to better understand each others’ experiences.

Here are three thoughtful and enjoyable books I’ve read this summer, about real people’s lives, very different to mine:

I would love to hear from you: What books, films, songs or podcasts really helped you to imagine the world as lived by someone else?

What makes you feel safe, and what do you do to make others feel safe?

And I suppose, if there are any takers on a conference or series of papers on state failures to protect victims … feel free to pitch that here too!

First published on LinkedIn on 23 August 2024:
https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/call-humanity-can-we-protect-one-another-when-state-fails-jen-ang-6ooge/