One city: One voice for peace
Diana Lampen reflects on a powerful witness for peace in Birmingham
The days of rioting, looting and violence in August, which culminated in the killing of three young men in Birmingham – Haroon Jahan, Shazad Ali and Abdul Musavir – shocked us all. Surely there was going to be a violent racial backlash? But there wasn’t, largely because Tariq Jahan, Haroon’s father, pleaded for calm and urged that no-one carry out revenge attacks.
Four days later a coalition of faith groups organised a peace rally under the banner ‘united Birmingham, one city, one voice for peace’. A friend and I knew we had to be there. Apprehensively, we approached the park and asked the policeman at the gate whether there had been any violence. ‘Sweetheart, it has been nothing but peaceful,’ he replied with a radiant smile.
A platform had been erected for the speakers, with an excellent sound system. There was even a long row of portable toilets. We joined the crowd of thousands. Every skin colour and every faith was there. There were even a few Quakers, including two from Canada. One by one faith leaders, councillors and community leaders addressed us most movingly. Many times we applauded; many times we wept. ‘Birmingham must be one of the most multi-racial, multi-faith places in the world,’ said one, ‘but we are one people. Having all the faiths here today shows Birmingham at its best. What we have got to do now is move forward and on to the next stage, which will involve healing.’
At the rally were family members of the three men who had been killed. Tariq Jahan told us that he was no-one special. He had been overwhelmed by the hundreds of letters, emails and phone calls that he had received from all over the world. ‘The community together like this gives me strength during my hurt. It is the month of Ramadan, which for Muslims is a very special month, as we believe the gates of heaven are open and that gives us strength.’ When he and a member of the other bereaved family wept as they spoke to us, we wept with them.
After all the speeches, the thousands of us gathered there joined in a few minutes of deep silence. Even the policemen scattered among the crowd closed their eyes and joined in. They too knew they were part of a united Birmingham.
When Tariq Jahan came down to join the huge crowd he was at once surrounded by people who wanted to express their sympathy. I was able to tell him of living in Northern Ireland at the time of the Enniskillen bomb, when Gordon Wilson too had asked for no revenge and we had known without a doubt that his forgiving attitude had prevented a violent backlash. When I said, ‘You have done the same for Birmingham and I want to thank you; but you are suddenly thrust in the limelight when you are grieving. I want you to know that you will be in our hearts and prayers every day’, he hugged me and we wept together.
In some young people we did see some momentary flashes of anger and frustration but the strong unity and peacefulness of the crowd embraced them too, as the initial sadness unmistakably changed into a sense of hope that good will surely come out of this tragedy.
