Three things happened over just a few days that made me want to write this post.
The first was a television documentary that I stumbled upon that told the story of a young woman from a low-income underprivileged area of Dublin in Ireland. Through a formal program at Trinity College Dublin, called the Trinity Access Program (TAP), a limited number of students who otherwise would never have access to any form of university education get to attend Trinity. What struck me about the participants in TAP was how grateful they were, how privileged they felt to have a chance at a university education. In most cases they were the first person from their family in many generations to have that opportunity. This was the case with the young woman at the center of the story. When I was growing up, I always knew that I would go to college, get a degree, get a decent job, and probably have a chance at a decent life. I didn’t view it as a privilege – at least not most of the time – though I know that I should have. Some of us take for granted too many of the privileges we are born with – and then we don’t always go on to do much with what we have. The young woman whose story was told in the documentary just recently got elected to the Seanad, the Irish Senate. Not bad for someone born with little privilege – but a lot a grit and determination.
The second thing that happened that made me want to write about privilege was a statistic I read in Forbes that 69% of Americans have less than $1,000 in savings. I recently bought my daughter a new iPhone for her 18th birthday. My daughter pushed back (not too hard) saying it was too much money but I just went ahead and bought it anyway. I didn’t think about it too hard.
The third thing that happened was an email I received from a friend of mine who I met through Altify’s work with Peter Gabriel’s human rights charity WITNESS. Lizzie is one of those fabulous human beings who spends her time and energy working to make the world a better place for the rest of us. She now works making films about topics of vital public interest. One of her colleagues is a formidable lady called Franny Armstrong who earlier this month received a doctorate from Open University. Franny uses her acceptance speech (which is included in full below) to highlight the extent to which our circumstances shape our opportunity, but it is our soul that shapes our outcomes. I will let Franny tell Kulood’s story below.
These, and other things, should cause us to think about how privileged we are and how small are our problems and challenges.
FRANNY’S ACCEPTANCE SPEECH
It is very easy to stand here and accept this honor. To bask in the occasion, take photos in this silly outfit, drink the free drinks and generally believe all the flattering stuff.
But the problem is I don’t believe it.
I’d like to tell you the story of two girls, born a few years apart. They were both intelligent, both popular at school, both wanted to grow up to do meaningful work, to contribute positively to the world, to make their lives count for something bigger than themselves – and they both hoped to have their own families later in life. But that’s where their stories diverge.
Because one of those girls happened to be born in London in the early 70s. There was peace in Europe. Britain had just held its first public referendum, resulting in a renewed commitment to stay in the EU, then called the EEC. There was hot and cold running water. The girl went to an excellent primary school in walking distance from her centrally-heated house. The school was well-funded by the state, and her inspiring teachers (who were not bogged down in endless paperwork) pushed her to be herself. She was supported by a creative family who encouraged her early adventures in writing plays starring her schoolfriends, She had music lessons and was allowed to practise her drums at home even after the unholy racket caused a cupboard to fall over and smash all her mum’s heirloom plates. She had her own bicycle and an AtoZ of London and could go wherever she wanted, without a brother or uncle accompanying her.
Her private school education had taught her to craft a convincing sentence and so, as a young adult, to win government grants set up to support social entrepreneurs. Which meant she could work at becoming a filmmaker without taking three zero-hour-contract jobs just to survive. Her working class grandmother left her enough money for a deposit on her own flat in London, just before insanely-escalating prices put home ownership out of reach of most young people. Her British passport meant she could travel freely and fold the things she learned about the world into her films. Later, she was supported financially by more than 300 people via crowdfunding to make the films she wanted to make, to say the things she wanted to say, and, as new technologies developed, to amplify her message out to a huge international audience. What a privilege.
Then there’s the other girl, whose name is Kulood. Kulood was also born into a middle class family and also walked to her local primary school. But she lived under a brutal dictatorship in a small city called Kut close to Baghdad. Kulood’s father was a radiologist in the local hospital and, unusually, he didn’t just encourage his sons, but also his daughters, to study hard and go on to get college degrees. Despite going to the local college, she had no freedom: apart from one day trip to Baghdad, she didn’t even leave her home city until she was 23. Then America and Britain invaded Iraq and Kulood’s city came under attack. Women weren’t allowed outside, so Kulood didn’t see any of the fighting, but she heard everything. Her brother was murdered on the streets, as were hundreds of thousands of other innocent civilians across Iraq.
When the day-to-day fighting calmed, Kulood set up a small organization aiming “to teach the women how to defend their rights, to show them that they didn’t always have to obey what men said.” That didn’t go down well. Her office was looted, she was denounced as working for the Americans by name in the local paper, and death threats came thick and fast. She ignored them and carried on her work, but then, when her mentor – a young American female lawyer called Fern Holland – was shot dead in front of her, Kulood fled with her father and sisters to Jordan where they scraped together an existence. I met her there in 2004 when she worked as a translator on one of my films. She was busy setting up a project supporting refugee children living on the streets, and said “I think their lives will be wasted just like mine. I try not to think that way, but, really, let’s be candid: this is their future. For me, all these years have been wasted. My sisters and I, we have dreams. We are educated, we want to study, to have careers. But in Jordan we cannot legally work, and we cannot leave. Now we’re becoming old, we’re all in our 30s, but still we can’t marry or start families. We are just standing in place. ”
Earlier this year, she decided to act. She couldn’t make a life in Jordan, she’d been denied asylum in the UK, New Zealand and all the other countries she’d applied to through official channels – and if she went back to Iraq she’d be killed. So she joined the exodus of refugees heading for Europe and found herself in the middle of the night squashed with thirty other refugees into an inflatable dinghy designed to hold eight. As they approached the Greek island of Samos, waves smashed the inflatable dinghy onto rocks, and the boat sank. Wearing heavy walking boots and thick winter clothes, Kulood was pulled underwater. She very nearly drowned. Her primary school hadn’t given her swimming lessons – but she learned on the spot that night – and somehow got herself to shore.
My question is: what would Kulood have done with her life had she been handed the chances that I’ve been blessed with? My guess is that, in a parallel universe, we will soon be celebrating her becoming the first ever female – and the first ever Iraqi – Secretary-General of the UN.
I believe that this inequality – all these wasted lives, all these frustrated people unable to build futures for themselves and their families – is the key driver of the world’s most urgent problems. Climate change, wars, the refugee crisis. Obesity, depression, street violence. Brexit, Trump, Farage, the rise of racist attacks. All these escalating problems come back to the unfairness of our societies, which are set up so that the 1% cream everything off for themselves, leaving everyone else to fight over the scraps.
Which is why I can’t feel that proud about winning a race where I got to run on immaculately cut grass in highly engineered trainers, whilst others were swimming through treacle without goggles or running across broken glass in bare feet.
Nobody can choose the situation they are born into, but I believe that those are who lucky enough to hit the jackpot – through no effort or talent of their own – have a moral responsibility to work to make things more equal. According to family mythology, my very first word was “share” and I hope it will also be my last.
So even though I feel very uneasy about all the golden tickets which have propelled me here, I am very happy to accept this honor from the Open University, whose very reason for being is to challenge inequality, by providing world-class education to people who wouldn’t otherwise be able to access it. In fact, my grandfather, William Armstrong, was involved in the setting up of the OU in the 1960s, and was himself awarded an honorary degree in 1974 – nearly half a century ago. I know he would be very happy that his granddaughter is receiving this honor today, from the University he helped to found – with his son, my father Peter, and two of his great-grandchildren, my Eva and Zac, out there in the audience.
And finally, I’d like to dedicate this award to my sister, Boo, whose shoes I walk in today – literally. Boo was by far the more original and brilliant of the Armstrong Sisters, but she died of cancer four years ago tomorrow and the world will never know what wonders she would have contributed had she lived.
So, congratulations to everyone receiving their degrees today, and long may the wonderful work of the Open University continue. Because the world needs you all more than ever.
Thank you.
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Donal Daly is Executive Chairman of Altify having founded the company in 2005. He is author of numerous books and ebooks including the Amazon #1 Best-sellers Account Planning in Salesforce and Tomorrow | Today: How AI Impacts How We Work, Live, and Think. Altify is Donal’s fifth global business enterprise.