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Grenfell disaster
Justice
Death & life
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7 min read

Grenfell: a tale of two towers

The Inquiry offers an opportunity to change the way we treat each other

Graham is the Director of the Centre for Cultural Witness and a former Bishop of Kensington.

A wrapping around the Grenfell Tower bears a giant green heart.
The Blowup on Unsplash.

Graham Tomlin was Bishop of Kensington at the time of the Grenfell Tower fire. This is the first of a short series of articles reflecting on this milestone in our national life. 

The Grenfell Inquiry report is brutal. None of the companies involved in the renovation of Grenfell Tower escape. Arconic, Kingspan, Rydon, Celotex, Exova and many others – all have a lot to answer for.  Listening to the statement by Sir Martin Moore-Bick and reading the report, words such as ‘failure’, ‘dishonesty’, ‘misleading’, and ‘defective’ sounded like a tolling bell throughout his account.   

This was a tragedy that was decades in the making. Reports came out, warnings were issued and routinely ignored. A government which led a campaign of de-regulation without looking at the consequences for safety, a local council that failed to plan ahead for such an event, a tenant management organisation that treated the tenants they were supposed to serve with disdain, all played their part. The construction industry fared even worse. A culture of unholy competition, ‘value engineering’ (another term for deception), cost-cutting, a scramble for market share all took precedence over the safety of the people who were going to live in the newly clad flats of Grenfell Tower.  

In the past, initial reports such as those on Bloody Sunday in Northern Ireland and on the Hillsborough disaster, were weak affairs, failing to listen to the voices of victims, too careful to preserve the status quo, only leading to further anger, and further reports which finally began to address the key issues. This report has not pulled its punches – perhaps because they kept the human side of the tragedy in mind throughout. 

In the early stages, in an inspired move, the Inquiry decided to offer an opportunity for bereaved family members to simply describe the people who died in the fire. It was intensely moving as the richness and colour of each person was described, celebrated and mourned. As a result, this Inquiry has never quite lost the human nature of this tragedy and I suspect that is why its results have been so hard-hitting. 

No blame for the victims - instead he demands a radical national repentance, a re-examination of deeper social and spiritual trends, and for a radical turnaround of attitude. 

Jesus and another tower 

Remembering the human scale of the disaster is vital, yet in itself, it does not lead to change. At one point in his public teaching, Jesus was asked about another disaster involving a tower which led to the tragic death of a large number of people. At some point during Jesus’ time in Jerusalem, it seems a tower collapsed in a part of the city called Siloam, killing 18 people. This tragedy clearly had a significant impact across the nation, and people started asking what it meant, and what it said about the society in which they lived.  

Jesus' words were harsh:

“Those who died when the tower in Siloam fell – do you think they were more guilty than all the others living in Jerusalem? I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish.’”

No blame for the victims - instead he demands a radical national repentance, a re-examination of deeper social and spiritual trends, and a profound change of mindset. If they don’t, such disasters will continue to happen. When disaster strikes, it doesn’t say anything much about those caught up in it, but it does give us an opportunity to take a good look at ourselves.  

Jesus said that the two most basic commandments, the things we should set out to do every day of our lives, were to love God and to love our neighbour - who is deserving of love because they are first made and loved by God. The Grenfell story is an object lesson in what happens when those commandments get ignored. This is what happens when these commandments are superseded by other imperatives, such as to increase market share, to beat the competition or to safeguard the reputation of our own organisation.  

Grenfell was the result of a culture that has become so individualistic that we have lost sight of the fact that we are our brothers’ (and sisters’) keepers, that we have a responsibility for each other, and that we find purpose and meaning in loving our neighbours as we love ourselves, whoever they happen to be. I am sure that the employees of Arconic, Rydon, Kingspan and the Tenant Management Organisation of RBKC, would have done anything they could to ensure that they and their families enjoyed a safe and secure home. They simply failed to do that for those they were meant to serve through their work. They took care of themselves and their own. They lost sight of the people their work affected. They did not take care of their neighbour.

It is the individuals and institutions that have the resilience and flexibility to face up to failure, learn the lessons and to be open to change which ultimately excel. 

What happens now?  

Matthew Syed’s 2015 book Black Box Thinking looked at responses to catastrophic failure. He contrasted the approach of the medical profession with the aviation industry. Too often, he argued, when an error is made in the world of healthcare, the instinct is to cover up failure for fear of litigation or in order to protect reputations. As a result, he suggested, the same mistakes are often repeated, which means that thousands of people continue to die in hospitals every year due to preventable error. When a plane crashes, however, the ‘black box’ is recovered, data painstakingly analysed, and no stone is left unturned in order to determine the exact causes of the disaster to make sure that it never happens again. As a result, plane travel has become one of the safest means of transport we have.  

The companies and organisations that were meant to protect the residents of Grenfell failed in that duty. Yet the moral of Syed’s story is that failure is not something to be feared — but an opportunity to change. It is the individuals and institutions that have the resilience and flexibility to face up to failure, learn the lessons and to be open to change which ultimately excel. It is what the Christian church calls confession and repentance – the willingness to admit when we have got something wrong, bear the consequences, ask for forgiveness, resolve to learn from the error of our ways and to become a better person through it. Repentance is not wallowing in self-pity or hiding in a corner from the wagging finger of guilt; it is an invitation to honesty, to growth and to transformation.  

Those responsible will need to face justice. Yet if we allocate blame, punish the guilty, and then carry on as before, then there is no guarantee that something like this will not happen again. We might issue new types of building regulations, or safety measures in construction, but even that would not be enough. The kind of repentance that Jesus, and indeed the Grenfell Tower fire calls for is deeper - a radical look at the way we live together in our society.  

This involves all of us. As Andrew O’Hagan put it in a long article soon after the fire in the London Review of Books:

“In all the loosening of cares and controls and emergency services, it’s not just the current government but a succession of them that lie behind those deaths, and who, if not all of us, voted such vulnerability into existence? No one did well. If civic life is dead, with a 24-storey tombstone beside the Westway, it died in the times in which we too lived, and by the values we lived by. The point of a society, if we have one, is that when bad things happen, it’s everybody’s concern.” 

Grenfell is such an opportunity that we dare not let pass. If we carry on as normal, with our atomised individualism, our addiction to comfort, our spiritual poverty, our disregard for our neighbours, we would miss a huge opportunity to address some of the deeper issues in our life together, not to speak of refusing to heed the call of Jesus for true repentance.

In his statement in the House of Commons, Keir Starmer pledged a “profound shift in culture and behaviour.” I hope - and pray - this is what happens. Yet it will take more than changes to building regulation and for safety. It needs spiritual and not just political change, as I’ve argued here before. It would mean each of us looking at ourselves, and the cultures of the organisations of which we are a part (yes - including the church), and responding to the call to love God – to re-orient our lives around something, someone bigger and better than us – and to love our neighbours as much as we love ourselves. What if Grenfell sparked a fundamental change back to that more connected vision of who we are and what we are here for? Grenfell - and this report - is a shock to our system. Let us not waste it. 

 

Listen to Graham discuss Grenfell on BBC Radio 4's PM programme.

Article
Comment
Politics
Sport
5 min read

Bad blood is damaging both football and politics

Are we all in the stands baying for blood?
A view from a football stand over heads to the pitch.
Steven Collomb-Clerc on Unsplash.

Am I going mad? It definitely feels like I’m going mad. Let me tell you two tales, one about an ugly football match, the other about the early release of a ‘political’ prisoner’. It feels as if society, not just the fans in the stands, are baying for blood. I’m mad about it. Here's why. 

There’s been little love lost between my team Liverpool and their recent opponents Newcastle United. 

Liverpool’s crime? Wanting to buy Newcastle’s striker, Alexander Isak. How dare they! 

If reports are to be believed – and everything should be viewed with raised eyebrows when it comes to football transfers – Isak informed Newcastle of his desire leave at the end of last season and was given assurances he would be able to. Liverpool, with no recognised striker following Diogo Jota’s death placed a bid of around £110 million.  

A British transfer record fee. As an opening bid. A fee subsequently described as “disrespectful.” I feel like I’m going mad. If anyone would like to ‘disrespect’ me with £110,000,000, please let me know and I’ll send you my bank details.  

The game’s turning point is a tackle by Newcastle’s Anthony Gordon on Virgil Van Dijk, Liverpool’s captain, just before half-time. 

Gordon comes flying in, studs up, raking the back of Van Dijk’s leg. It is a deeply unprofessional tackle from Gordon. A cynical attempt to hurt a colleague with no discernible attempt to win the ball. It’s a tackle that’s beneath him, frankly.  

By the time Anthony Gordon lunges in, the tone of the match is clear: we’re here to cause harm to anyone in a red shirt. (And the Newcastle fans are still in the stands cheering them on). 

At the end of the day, I’m just glad Liverpool won. But I am genuinely baffled and alarmed by the amount of normally level-headed people who became intent on causing harm because of a (potential) transfer. Bad blood is flowing, indeed rushing to the head of many of them. 

Most of all, I’m glad Liverpool won because, when I say what I’m about to say, you know it’s not coming from a place of bitterness that my football team lost a match. Because another story this week has left me feeling like I’m going mad: the release of Lucy Connolly from prison

In July 2024, three young girls were stabbed to death at a dance class in Southport. In the aftermath, amid (false) reports that the killer was an asylum seeker, riots broke out across the country as people targeted mosques, asylum seeker accommodation, and even libraries.  

In the midst of this, Lucy Connolly – whose husband was, at the time, a Conservative county councillor – tweeted: 

“Mass deportation now, set fire to all the [f***ing] hotels full of the [b***ards] for all I care, while you’re at it take the treacherous government & politicians with them. I feel physically sick knowing what these families will now have to endure. If that makes me racist, so be it.” 

Having left prison, Connolly told The Telegraph that she was a “political prisoner” and that Keir Starmer “needs to look at what people's human rights are, what freedom of speech means and what the laws are in this country.”  

The irony of her saying this in an interview with a national newspaper was apparently lost on her. 

Am I going mad? It definitely feels like I’m going mad.  

Lucy Connolly encouraged people to burn down hotels with people inside. To spill blood. She pleaded guilty to inciting racial hatred by publishing and distributing ‘threatening or abusive’ written material on X. She literally admitted to doing this in a court of law.  

But she is now being hailed in some quarters as a political martyr and champion of free speech. Let’s have it right: you are free to say what you want, but you are not free from the consequences of your speech. Whether you like it or not, migrants and asylum seekers are made in the image of God, as we all are, and are beloved by the creator of the universe. None of us has the right to end their lives. Incitement of violence towards them is rightly a crime.  

She deserves to be in prison.  

The people who rioted last year are ultimately responsible for their actions. But Lucy Connolly – and everyone else who incited violence in the aftermath of the Southport attacks – is also partly to blame for cultivating a society in which thugs feel as though that is an acceptable course of action. Now she is released from prison, every media outlet, every interviewer, every politician who repeats her reality-defying nonsense without challenge is as culpable as she is for fostering this climate of violence. This is before we even begin to talk about the record numbers of asylum seekers who have already died in our care.  

It was ultimately Anthony Gordon’s stupid decision to go in studs-up on Van Dijk. But referee Simon Hooper and the Newcastle fans should reflect on their part in fostering a climate of violence in which Gordon’s felt his decision was reasonable, too. 

We are all Simon Hooper. We are all the referee. When we allow rhetoric to become calls for violence, this has real-world consequences. People get hurt and killed. Blood is spilled. We are all responsible for the society in which we live, and the rhetoric of the debate that occurs therein.  

It’s not just febrile Newcastle fans that are losing their grip on reality: there seems to be a society-wide willingness simply to bypass the concrete facts of reality to further personal ideologies. The more people like Lucy Connolly are rehabilitated by media whitewashing, the more statements like “set fire to all the [f***ing] hotels full of the [b***ards] … if that makes me racist, so be it” become acceptable, the less safe the most vulnerable in society become and the more likely they are to be killed.  

That’s the nub of it. Lucy Connolly should be in prison because what she said leads to people being killed. No-one should have been surprised when Anthony Gordon went in on Van Dijk that night. No-one should feign surprise when migrants and asylum seekers are eventually killed on the basis of rumour and misinformation. Because they will be. And because we will all have been cheering on from the stands. 

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