Post #40
Oct 7, 2020
Claire Bodanis
Claire reflects on ‘Fratelli Tutti’, the third encyclical of Pope Francis, and its valuable lesson for us as we write (and read) the coming season’s annual reports.
My best friend had lunch with the Pope today.
While she was thus engaged, I was rejoicing in singing my first hymn in church since lockdown, ‘We plough the fields and scatter’. For today, Sunday 4 October, is Harvest Festival. That these seemingly unrelated events should occur on the same Sunday is no coincidence – and they also hold a perhaps unexpected message for the 2021 reporting season.
We’re celebrating Harvest Festival today because it’s the feast day of St Francis of Assisi*, after whom the Pope (real name Jorge Mario Bergoglio) called himself. And it’s because it’s his feast day that Pope Francis today launched Fratelli Tutti, his third ‘encyclical’, or open letter to the world, particularly its 1.2 billion Catholics.
Radical inclusivity isn’t a message one would necessarily associate with the Catholic Church, or indeed many religions, but it is, in fact, at the heart of this book-length paper. And why it’s so meaningful is because it’s a whole lot more than a sermon telling us all to be nice to one another. The core message is backed up with some pretty sharp observations on the world today and what needs to change for us to live in the inclusive, fairer society everyone’s talking about in the wake of covid-19.
In launching his encyclical, Pope Francis invited a panel of five eminent folk to comment on it and take its message beyond the Vatican to the wider world. Of the five, three were the usual suspects – a couple of cardinals, and an eminent Italian professor. The other two would have been unthinkable on the steps of the (hardly inclusive) Vatican even just a few years ago. A Muslim, Judge Mohamed Mahmoud Abdel Salam, former advisor to the Grand Imam of al-Azhar; and a woman, Anna Rowlands, Professor of Catholic Social Thought and Practice at Durham (also my partner in crime in many a student misdemeanour, although she doesn’t tend to put that on her CV).
It’s a shame, though, that the Argentine Pope Francis didn’t ask Anna to check the English translation of his original Spanish text (and its Italian title) before it was published, as well as just commenting on it. Why? Because its powerful, inclusive message has been somewhat overshadowed by a furore surrounding the title. Taken directly from the Admonitions of St Francis, the words fratelli tutti mean, both to the Pope and his 13th-century namesake, ‘all brothers and sisters’, ie ‘all people in the world’ – in the sense of all of us humans being equal and in the same boat.
But sadly many in the English-speaking world leapt to denounce its lack of inclusivity, translating it (and then denouncing it) as simply ‘brothers all’, thereby missing the point that in many other languages the plural for brothers means brothers and sisters, even though it doesn’t in English. They could quite easily have translated it that way – after all, the Pope begins all his weekly addresses ‘my brothers and sisters’. But let’s face it, it was a bit of an own goal, as I’m sure Anna would have pointed out had she been asked.
However, it may not have made any difference, because perhaps what those angry voices were really shouting about was the linguistic leftovers from an earlier, more patriarchal age. And the fact that St Francis himself used the word fratelli might have got up their noses anyway, despite its 13th-century context. I don’t know.
But what I do know is that within this furore lies a really important message for us as we begin to think about writing this year’s annual reports. The main message to us as writers is that we must respect our readers (incidentally, ‘Respect your reader’ is the title of chapter 4 of Trust me, I’m listed, on how to write engaging and useful reports). It would be a crying shame if our real message were to get lost because a careless choice of language stole all our airtime.
However, there’s also a message in this for us as readers of other people’s reports: we should show the same thoughtfulness and respect when reading other people’s reports as we aim to show for our readers when writing our own. Anyone can choose to be offended about just about any choice of language if they really put their minds to it – and sadly, today, all too many do just that. But just as we want people to consider our feelings when writing for us, let’s also consider theirs when reading, and not be too quick to assume the worst.
Peace, friends.
* Harvest Festival and St Francis – the 13th century’s David Attenborough
After a mystical vision (I could do with one of those) in which God told him to rebuild his church, St Francis (1181-1226) renounced material things, embraced poverty, and, realising that all creatures were part of God’s creation, set out to embrace a way of life in communion with the natural world. This has earned him the title of patron saint of ecologists. To put it another way, St Francis was essentially the 13th century’s David Attenborough – and so we remember him at Harvest Festival when we give thanks for the natural world that sustains us. I know I should love him for that reason, but I have to confess that my regard for St Francis as a kindred spirit relates more to his earlier, sinful life as a total party animal, with great sartorial flair. I’m sure he’s suffering with me during party-less lockdown.