by Emmett Reilly

We would not be slave-traders or help the slave-trade.  But could we, unwittingly or otherwise, be condoning it in our culture?

Imagine seeing Patrick, our patron saint, stripped of his (17^th century) bishop’s attire and without our preconceptions and myths?

Patrick, unloaded onto the shore – what would we have seen?  A commodity? Almost certainly.  Another unfortunate bit of reality – like the drunk on the street or quarrelling neighbours?  A victim?  Or just a production unit?

Patrick walking the hills of Antrim. What would we see? A slave? But what does that mean?  Take off the label.  Someone famished, neglected, abused, ragged and without shelter. Would we see the butt end of an economic system?  Another unhappy worker, an unfortunate? What would convince us that he was more than that?

Patrick again, fleeing south at speed. What would we see then?  An immigrant?  An illegal freeloader?  Someone who had set themselves against society – a criminal?  Or a victim?  Would he, with his foreign way of speaking, make us feel fear, fear of the outsider?

Would it have been a social obligation to bring him back to his owner?  Would we have taken advantage of him (even unwittingly)? Or helped him?

Two hundred years after William Wilberforce succeeded in making the slave trade illegal, most Irish people would say they have never met a trafficked person.  Unlike the 5^th century Irish we would be aghast if we found out that we had.  But what would we look for?  According to the UN, indicators of trafficking can include:

-        Children engaged in unsuitable work

-        People living in unsuitable places or working long hours

-        People overly dependent on their employer for services

-        Women showing obvious signs of abuse

-        Adverts for the services of women of a particular nationality, for purposes that suggest the availability of sexual services.

Stop The Traffik (a global campaign against trafficking - www.stopthetraffik.org) estimates that 1.2 million children are trafficked each year.  In Ireland some of the 388 unaccounted for children who have gone missing from state care since 2001 may well have been trafficked.

Do we care enough to notice?

A present day Irish person would probably react differently seeing Patrick escaping – many would help.  Several trafficked people have been reported to the Gardai by taxi drivers, resulting in their successful rescue.  The Garda initiative, Blue Blindfold campaign (www.blueblindfold.gov.ie), has contact numbers.

This is a vital current issue.  We would not be slave-traders or help the slave-trade.  But could we, unwittingly or otherwise, be condoning it in our culture?

Ruhama (a voluntary group working with women trafficked for the sex industry– www.ruhama.ie ) recently ran advertisements highlighting the fact that using trafficked women is illegal under the Criminal Law (Human Trafficking) Act of 2008.   The sex industry is a major market for traffickers.   However, so are industries such as agriculture, catering, manufacturing and even domestic service.

If we want to stop trafficking and protect its victims, we need to become informed, to encourage our politicians and authorities in the good work done and in the work that is still to be done. NGOs that work in this area also need volunteers.

Patrick’s first experience in Ireland would have encouraged him back. He came back because he was called to a mission. Part of that mission was the transformation of society where trafficking was practised and accepted. Would he have similar concerns about the Ireland of today? Human trafficking is still evil.

If you would like to see a film about trafficking in Dublin, there is one on Cineworld next Wednesday, May 19^th, at 6.30pm and there are still some tickets left. Contact Ruhama office if you'd like to go. Email is This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it ; phone is 01 836 0292.

EAI’s social justice group has been working on trafficking for over a year now. If you are interested in getting involved or want information on what you and/or your church can do contact This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .

Abuse scandals still are making news headlines.  Perhaps it is the severe mercy of God that we are not allowed to forget.  There are injuries and injustices to address.  But how can we respond?  This needs to be an ongoing conversation, accompanied by earnest action.  EAI is holding workshops for church and ministry leaders around the country to facilitate conversation and action.  But the starting point has to be compassion.

Though in a completely different context,  Linda Crockett has a story that may begin to help us get a sense of how to begin.

“ONE DAY, I VISITED a Salvadoran community of people who were displaced by the war. They struggled to survive on a scrap of land at the edge of a conflict zone. Many of them were living under shelters of plastic and tin.

The Salvadoran armed forces had come to the community one day, rounded up all of the people, and interrogated them, accusing them of being part of the FMLN. After a few days of occupation and harassment, the military finally left-taking with them all of the food and the few tools the community had. They also took some prisoners, one of whom was an old woman.

She was imprisoned and badly tortured for several months. The military eventually released and returned her to the community as a living reminder of their power-the trauma of the torture had seriously damaged her mind. She could no longer function. She was filled with guilt and pain, because under torture she had made false confessions, agreeing that she and everyone else her torturers named in the community wer e connected to the FMLN.

The woman could not sleep at night; she stumbled from shelter to shelter, begging forgiveness from each family she might have betrayed. I asked the people, What did you do? What happened to this woman?

I will never forget the answer given by one of the community leaders.  A lay catechist in a worn and faded shirt--a humble man full of faith--replied, "We healed her. It cost us a lot, but we healed her."

He said they knew she needed to be listened to, and they knew she needed to be held. They organised themselves so that someone was with her 24 hours a day. She was never left alone. They talked to her, encouraging her to spill out the pain, the rage, the grief.  They held her like a child and let her cry.  Eventually, she recovered from her trauma.

Her healing was costly for the community. Their survival depended upon the labour of each person in the fields where a meagre crop grew. Every day that someone sat with the woman was a day of lost labour, which meant less food. And they had no assurance that the time they were investing in her healing would yield fruit and restore her to them. But they did it--with love, patience, and faith in a God who walks with those who have no one else to depend on, and who cry out for justice.”