The Internet is a great provider of information.  Of course, there are to be found in it lies, rumours and falsehoods.  We trust, however, that a reasonably discerning person can detect ‘fake news’ and not fall into the trap of repeating unsubstantiated information.  But there is another sort of truth that can be found from scrutinising the net.  An individual can pick up information from a variety of separate sources but be able to suggest how these fragments of information are connected. None of the fragments of information I tell below stand as complete stories.  However, when they are linked together, they seem to tell a complete story, one that does little credit to the Church of England or its breakaway sections represented by GAFCON and AMiE.

The first section is a statement by Bishop Andy Lines, the clergyman appointed by the breakaway Anglican American group ACNA to act as a missionary bishop for Europe.  He is also closely linked to AMiE the group that brings together parishes that have opted out of the Anglican Communion.  He recently announced to this group that he was withdrawing from active ministry for a few months, having been a victim of ‘spiritual manipulation’.   This highly unusual and unexpected announcement has obviously led to speculation.  Who was doing the abusing?  Who, in short, had the authority over this powerful figure in the Anglican breakaway world to be able to be able to create what appears to be a major crisis for a respected figure?  The only clue we get is from the description of the abuser.   Andy speaks of a ‘betrayal of trust by a mentor’.  No names are given but looking at Andy’s formation and links over many years with Emmanuel Church Wimbledon, we have to suggest that the Vicar, Jonathan Fletcher, a close friend and teacher, fills the description.  It was also Jonathan that was present at some kind of ceremony of commissioning Andy in Emmanuel following a consecration service in the States. Jonathan had been Vicar of Emmanuel Church for 30 years. He was thus a major figure in Andy’s life and in conservative Anglicanism generally.  Everyone in that world seems to know him or comes in some way into his orbit of his influence.  This Wimbledon church seems to be a kind of central hub for the entire conservative evangelical network within Anglicanism.  It is still a centre of great importance, along with such centres as St Helen’s Bishopsgate and St Ebbes in Oxford.

A second story that has broken in the past few days also concerns Jonathan Fletcher.  He was named by the Daily Telegraph in a story that has all the signs of having been pored over extensively by lawyers.  The story revealed that in 2017 the Diocese of Southwark had removed the Permission to Officiate from Jonathan on the grounds of unspecified abuse against vulnerable adults.  The Telegraph story provoked a reply on the website of Emmanuel to apologise and offer help to anyone who had been affected by the story.  Clearly, although the offences may have fallen short of being criminal, there was in the minds of members of his own church a case to answer. It is worth pointing out that although the church and other senior leaders have known about the allegations for two years, it is only now that they are offering support to those who may have been affected.

A third story or anecdote, no doubt provoked by the Telegraph story, was the publication of a photo showing a programme from one of the Iwerne public school summer camps dating back to 1982.  This showed John Smyth as a speaker on the same day as Jonathan Fletcher.  These two men obviously knew each other well.  Clearly also the networks of people who supported the Iwerne camps and their work were well known in Emmanuel circles.  It is hard or impossible to imagine that Jonathan Fletcher was left in the dark about John Smyth’s crimes and the reasons for his sudden departure for Africa.  This Iwerne/Emmanuel nexus would have had enormous power and influence.  We should not underestimate how much power seems to have accrued personally to Jonathan Fletcher as the man in charge of Emmanuel and a key player in Iwerne circles.  Any suggestion of wrongdoing by this superstar of the evangelical universe is highly embarrassing, not to say highly destructive, to the wider evangelical world.  Jonathan’s power reached out not only to those who were personally caught up by his charisma but he had institutional power, wielded through his participation in committees and other structures of influence.    John Smyth’s crimes have already cast one heavy pall over the legacy of Iwerne and the hundreds who passed their formative years within its orbit.  Silence on the part of those who knew about Smyth’s crimes has made the eventual effect of discovery far more serious and painful.  A similar silence protecting Jonathan over the same period of years has also been allowed to exist.   Whatever Jonathan is or is not guilty of, the silence maintained by many who knew allegations against him has made a bad situation far worse.

A final fragment of this complex story is the suggestion online that Jonathan Fletcher has been a member since 1983 of the exclusive dining club, Nobody’s Friends.  This club which emerged into public awareness during the IICSA hearings in March last year has a membership group of 60, all elected by the club itself.  Each of the members is chosen from either the church, politics or one of the other distinguished professions.  Jonathan’s place among this elite group is no doubt in part the result of being born into a family of eminent politicians, his father having served a member of Harold Wilson’s cabinet.  But apart from this family background, someone in the church must have seen him to be an important up and coming church person.  Thus, in his 40s, he was honoured to sit among Deans, Bishops, and the like, not to mention the crème de la crème of the political establishment.  Perhaps as importantly there was another group represented in the club, public-school headmasters, the supporters of Iwerne camps.

Mention of this dining club, Nobody’s Friends, links us back to the establishment network that played an important part in the Peter Ball story.  We catch a glimpse of a well-connected group of people who were able to pull many strings, partly because of whom they knew.  Jonathan Fletcher was right there in the middle of it all.  In other words, like Peter Ball, he knew and was known by enormous numbers of movers and shakers in British society.  Also, as with Peter Ball, if the accusations of ‘spiritual manipulation’ are true, then many people would have been affected.  Peter Ball’s world was the high church networks so well represented in the Chichester diocese.  Jonathan Fletcher’s world is the evangelical nexus represented by the conservative parishes of REFORM. Here we find considerable wealth, privilege and power.  Jonathan’s potential capacity to do good and provide a positive influence was enormous.  Equally his ability to create harm was extensive.  The story, as we have it, is in fragments but we are hinting that the joined-up version we have now points sadly to the latter scenario.  As with Peter Ball’s story, the discrediting of an admired hero in an institution goes far further than simply among those who knew the hero directly.  It spreads out to many others who expected the highest standards of their leaders. 

It is unfortunate that twice in one week we are reflecting on the influence of single individuals on vast numbers of other Christians in our church.  Any attempt to deny the influence of these two prominent Christians on others would be a distortion of history and would also dishonour the pain of betrayal that abused victims may often feel.  If Jonathan Fletcher is indeed shown to be guilty of spiritual manipulation, then we can be sure that the number of his victims is large.  Also, whenever a sense of betrayal is found within an institution, it has a tendency to infect the whole.  The healthy mutual interdependence that would have operated so well in evangelical fellowships would be weakened if a miasma of suspicion and fear starts to flow through these networks.  That situation is indeed what we seem to be beginning to witness.  Failures of trust have no good endings.  In the same way we need rebuilding of integrity and openness and an end to the networks of secrecy and privilege which flow through this story.  It is a story of four fragments but when drawn together it becomes a story of power abuse, dishonesty and harm.  Directly or indirectly this story affects us all.

Like many people, I heard the announcement of Peter Ball’s death on Sunday evening on the radio.  My first thought was to realise how this news would stir up pain for the dozens of survivors of his abuse just as John Smyth’s death did last year.   My initial reaction was to say to myself, I have nothing further to say about Peter Ball. I commented on my blog every day last July during the IICSA hearings when for five days the focus was on his offending and the way the wider Church dealt with it.  The Peter Ball event is, however, bigger than the man himself.  It continues to represent a crisis for the whole Church which needs to be faced and dealt with if it is not to undermine the institution that Ball was supposed to serve.

History may or may not confirm my opinion that Peter Ball single-handedly did more damage to the Church of England than any other individual before him.  This claim may seem to be exaggerated.  I would support it by pointing out how the Ball offences were not just those he committed against the unfortunate young men who came under his influence in the 70s and 80s.  The harm that Ball did caught up countless others, the individuals who saw him as a man of God and someone representing a true spiritual life.  Everyone who modelled their idea of God on him and his life of holiness has had to suffer the appalling let-down of realising that much, if not all, of this outward show was a charade, an act designed to draw in individuals, often then to be manipulated and used.

The 21^st century has given us the expression ‘gaslighting’.  It is based on the story line of a film where the man of the family attempted to drive his wife mad by manipulating reality in subtle ways around her so that she could not be certain what was real.  Items of furniture are moved, lights left on, so that the target of gaslighting starts to have no confidence that her memory and mental functioning is operating properly.  The fixed points in our lives around which we build our sense of coherence and certainty suddenly become fluid.  Many people regard the social/ political situation in the States as an example of mass gaslighting.  The extensive lying by the President makes many people uncertain about what is true and real.  It will take time for American society to recover from the subversive attacks on truth by President Trump.

One way of reading the Peter Ball story is to suggest that a large segment of the church and the upper echelons of British society were the objects of a kind of gaslighting by the Bishop.   For many years he was set on a programme of manipulating the church and parts of establishment society to advance his social and other ambitions.  Ball was a man possessed with numerous gifts.  As an ex public-school boy educated at Cambridge, he understood well the class system and seems to have had no difficulty obtaining wealthy and influential friends.  But he possessed a particular gift which capped all the other advantages of class and education.  He possessed the gift or quality we call charisma.  Charisma is remarkably tricky to define.  At one level we experience it when certain individuals enter a room and somehow fill it with their presence.  The Conservative party is at present being seduced by the extensive charisma of Boris Johnson in his attempt to become Prime Minister.  Charisma is normally accompanied by charm, which, as the word suggests, has an almost magical quality.  A person with charm and charisma like that possessed by Ball will nearly always get their own way because the other person will feel swamped and overwhelmed.  The sheer power of the charismatic personality is disorienting and it is the mental confusion created that links charisma to the gaslighting process.  How do you stand up to someone who simply oozes charisma backed up by other forms of social influence?  Most people surrender to this kind of charm without fully realising that they have been manipulated and coerced into thinking and doing what the charmer requires.

The story after the 1993 Caution of Ball is, in part, the story of the way that he used gaslighting techniques to confuse and manipulate large numbers of people from the Prince of Wales down.  Most were taken in by his narratives that he was not a serious threat, or that he always had the interests of young people at heart.  The IICSA hearing heard how Ball persuaded public school headmasters to allow him to perform confirmation services even after warnings were being issued.  The boys at these schools were bowled over by the displays of charisma from Ball, as were their masters.  The sheer crowd pulling power that he could demonstrate never seems to have dimmed.  But we know that there was something artificial going which ultimately can be seen as highly damaging to the Church.

Charisma, as shown by numerous studies, often keeps close company with the Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD).  This short piece cannot go on to say definitively that Ball suffered from this syndrome.  What I can say, relevant to this attempt to understand the appalling damage that Ball did to his church, is that the kind of charismatic power that Ball exercised over others is often a cover for vulnerability.  Studies show that the flamboyance of narcissistic types is often found with a core of loneliness, pain and unhealed damage from childhood.  This may be the pattern we see in Ball.  The sheer charismatic energy that he exhibited, enthralling so many, was perhaps the sweet coating over a manipulative and empty interior.

Whatever the truths about Ball’s behaviour and his apparent ability to manipulate so many in and outside the church, certain uncomfortable facts remain.  First of all, Ball maintained his influence over many people for a long time so that they could not let go of their devotion to his ‘persecuted man of God’ persona until the trial in 2015.  The 2000 letters written to Lambeth by the great and the good in Ball’s support after his Caution also speaks of massive personal charismatic power.  How the writers of these letters have come to terms with Ball’s imprisonment and now death is of course unknown.  One can only speculate that, for some, if not the majority, faith in God and the Church has taken a considerable knock.  Most of us are buoyed in our own faith and encouraged by the faith of others that we admire.  The second uncomfortable fact is the apparent complete lack of remorse on the part of Ball for his crimes.  No attempts at reconciliation with victims appear to have taken place.  Did his faith and theology somehow justify his actions in his own mind?  We will now never know.  We are left with the damage caused not only to the victims of his attacks but also to the many individuals who wanted, even needed, him to be a model of holiness that their Christian journey required.  The numbers of this latter group must run into the thousands.  There will be many unhappy people today who are feeling the stab of a sense of being deeply betrayed by a man of outward holiness.  This quality was the outside husk of an inner devious exploitation.   That betrayal by Ball of those who looked up him is the most damaging part of his legacy.  The Church must own up to this damage and do something about it if it is to go forward with integrity.

The question of who is and who is not a member of the Church of England/Anglican has always been difficult to determine.  Church law has encouraged a fairly lax understanding of membership.  Anyone who resides in a parish in England has an entitlement to vote for the churchwardens of their local parish church.  Common-sense tells us that this ability in law to vote for the churchwardens at the Annual Parish meeting does not make someone a member of the Church of England.  Nevertheless, the Church, being established by law, has always been hesitant to declare anyone who breathes as totally beyond its boundaries.  Even those who do nothing and are not baptised seem to have certain rights and privileges within the body.

What is, in effect, a completely passive membership of the Church of England has for centuries been the norm for a large segment of the population.  The only way that has been open to individuals to opt out of this membership was to declare openly that they belong to a dissenting group and then pointedly avoid attending the parish church.  To be such an open ‘dissenter’ used to incur civil penalties, like exclusion from university.  No doubt the authorities had other ways of discriminating against these non-conforming families.  I am not enough of a historian to be able to list these penalties or know how they worked in practice.  But, everyone else in society was deemed to be a ‘conformer’ and automatically Church of England.  Regardless of how often or whether people attended church, everyone could enjoy a number of privileges, including the right to be married in church and be buried in the local churchyard.  Actual attendance at church could be erratic, occasional or non-existent.  Who knows how many fell below the Prayer Book minimum attendance rules of Easter communion and two other occasions?

The issue of who is and who is not an Anglican has become an topic of discussion recently with the case of John Smyth.  Smyth, the notorious abuser and for a long time chair of the Iwerne trustees, spent the end of his life as a member of non-Anglican churches in South Africa.  On the basis of this period of non-Anglican participation, the Archbishop of Canterbury has placed the ‘not-Anglican’ label on Smyth, apparently for the whole of his life.  It is hard to make this claim when during his time living in Winchester, Smyth was a Reader at Christ Church Winchester.  It seems fairly clear that, assuming this claim is correct, he would have had at some point to provide evidence of his Church of England baptism and confirmation before being admitted to Reader status.  What happened after he left the UK in disgrace does not change his Church of England membership while he lived in this country, committing his crimes.  I am reminded of the career of Michael Harper who resigned as a curate of All Soul’s Langham Place to promote the charismatic movement in the 60s.  After retirement he then became a member of the Eastern Orthodox Church.  Does the fact that Michael made such a radical switch from conservative Protestantism to Orthodoxy in any way invalidate his time at All Souls and his ministry there?  No one would claim that he was Orthodox all the way through and that his evangelical Anglican past was in some way rendered invalid by a later change of allegiance.  The evident Anglicanism of John Smyth is in no way changed by what he did at the end of his life.  We suspect that, in any case, a change in denominational allegiance for Smyth would have been prompted by a desire to opt out of Anglican networks.  It would have been easier for him to be spotted as an Anglican and thus prevented from exercising any kind of ministry.

The non-Anglican label has also been applied to the organisations that Smyth was associated with in England.  The Iwerne Trust (now known as Titus Trustees) which runs the Christian summer camps from which all of Smyth’s victims came, was at the heart of a large informal network of well-connected and often wealthy Anglican Christians, most of whom live in the south of England.  The same network exists today with a close association with the REFORM network.  REFORM exists as pressure group within the Church of England, promoting a number of conservative Christian causes.  It is active on General Synod promoting the anti-LGTB cause and supporting clergy and parishes that follow its conservative line.

The argument of the Archbishop and his advisers is to claim that the Church of England has no responsibility for Smyth and his victims because the Iwerne trustees were independent of the Church of England and not under its control.  This is a patently absurd argument.  Is the same argument to be applied to all the other independent organisations that work in and around the Church, including REFORM?  The Iwerne trustees and the Titus group that followed it are stuffed full of ordained clergy who all hold licenses or PTOs from their bishops.  A license to officiate involves an oath of obedience to the bishop ‘in all things lawful’.  Does not the obedience promised ensure that every activity undertaken by an ordained priest is potentially subject to the scrutiny of a bishop?  Just because the Titus Trust is not a legal entity controlled by the central Church does not stop individual ordained trustees being subject to episcopal authority.  It is time for the Archbishop of Canterbury and his advisers to stop hiding behind the ‘not-Anglican’ argument and ask the ordained trustees who hid Smyth’s crimes for over thirty years to give an account of themselves.  The Archbishop and the members of the House of Bishops do have real power in this situation.  They can order an inquiry and require any clergy trustees with information about Smyth’s crimes to disclose them.  The sanction of removing permissions to officiate or licences is available to enforce non-compliance.  Those of us who have looked at Smyth’s crimes have been sickened at the detail.  The accusation that there are clergy who in different ways are hiding these crimes by not sharing information is one that needs to be answered.

The reluctance of the Church of England at the highest level to take an active role in seeking resolution to the criminal activities of John Smyth is a running sore that will not go away.  The motivations of the well-connected church people who provided the large sums of money necessary to spirit Smyth out of Britain to Africa also need to be explained.  If the Church will not do it itself, then a ‘Smyth Inquiry’ should be handed over to an independent group.  Once again, we have to point out that deflection and avoidance never serve the Church well.  At the time when the public of Britain are beginning to conclude that the vested interests of church bodies take precedence to openness and integrity, we need bold actions by senior church figures.  In this area courage is required.  Such courage can be seen to be the mark of true leadership.

A document which I hope will always be referred to as the Blackburn Letter appeared yesterday June 17^th 2019.  It is written by the senior staff of the Blackburn Diocese and is addressed to their licensed staff, clergy and Readers, and safeguarding officers.  In essence, it is commending study of the recent IICSA report on the Diocese of Chichester and the Peter Ball case.  Those of us who have been cheering on the case of safeguarding for some time cannot but feel that this is progress.  The Letter may claim historic importance because it shows that in one diocese of the Church of England a group of senior church people really seem to understand all the dimensions of safeguarding in the Church.  They understand it in a way that goes far beyond the box-ticking reputational management process which is what safeguarding comes to be in many places.

Why am I personally moved by this letter?  For a start, the Blackburn senior staff want those who study the IICSA report to notice before anything else the suffering that has been caused by sexual abuse to real victims.  Many people, including myself, have always pleaded that safeguarding should start at this end – the needs of survivors.  Sexual abuse, however many years ago it took place is a ‘human catastrophe’ for those caught up in it as victims as well as causing ‘lifelong impact’.  How right that the Blackburn Letter begins with words from Psalm 51.  ‘Have mercy on us O God, for we have sinned’.  The letter makes no apology for putting the human suffering endured by survivors right at the beginning.  The traditional preoccupation of the Church, reputation management, only gets a mention in para 5.  It is mentioned, but only as a way of explaining that it has been a factor in not dealing well with allegations from the past.   When protecting the good name of the institution has taken precedence, the suffering of survivors has been made far worse. 

Moving on from what appear to be genuine expressions of sorrow and contrition on behalf of the whole Church, the letter begins to explore what can be done in the future.  The congregations are to be places where ‘children and vulnerable adults can be entirely safe’ but also where ‘the voices of those who have difficult things to say or disclosures to make are heard and acted on.’  The second part of this wish is far harder to deliver.  Many survivors report that the reason the Church has found it so hard to deal with their needs is because the recounting of their past experience of suffering causes so much discomfort in the hearer.  None of us find it easy to listen to stories of abuse, particularly when the abuser was a trusted figure, like a priest or a bishop.  Taking on board the idea that a member of the home team is an abuser is deeply unsettling.  It is far easier to shut down the discordant thought and that is what many people will do in practice.

A further insight in the letter, which is music to my ears, is the recognition that clericalism, deference and abuse of power lie behind the ‘cover-up’ and the silencing of the ‘voices of the vulnerable’.  Clergy and other leaders have power within the relationships they possess and there needs to be ‘deeper awareness’ of that power.  This theme of ministerial power and its potential for harm is the topic that I have chosen to reflect on in the forthcoming volume of essays Letters to a Broken Church. There is so much more to be said on this topic.

I want to make two further observations about the letter.  One is that the letter appears to have been written at a visceral level.  In short, the emotions of sorrow and repentance are allowed to rise to the surface and be dominant themes in what is communicated.  Somehow the letter, assisted by a quotation from Andrew Graystone’s essay of a week ago, manages to avoid completely the somewhat petulant tone of so many expressions of ‘regret’ and ‘apology’ that we associate with official statements.  Are we correct in seeing in this letter the beginning of something new, a combination of deep sorrow and genuine feeling for the needs of survivors and those wronged by the Church?    Such sentiments, if they are followed through, will begin to meet the needs of survivors.  It may be the beginning of the ‘change of culture’ that has been looked for by so many.  It is also the first sign that some senior clergy individually and corporately are beginning to ‘get it’.

My final observation is a somewhat irreverent one but it needs to be made.  Is it a coincidence that this remarkable statement of unanimity and contrition about safeguarding emerges from a diocese that is far away from London?  The Diocese of Blackburn may be articulating a somewhat prophetic position precisely because it feels itself geographically and in other ways remote from the centres of Anglican influence represented by Church House and Lambeth Palace respectively.  The prospect of an entire diocese studying the articulate comments and criticisms of the Independent Inquiry must be causing considerable discomfort among those who try hard to control the narrative and set the agenda for the Church of England.  The forthcoming debates at York General Synod may or may not get to the heart of the issue as the Blackburn Letter seems to have done.  Whatever is said at York, the effect of the process of study in the Blackburn diocese will have implications which will reverberate long into the future.  It will be increasingly hard to claim that no one understands the issues.  The consequences of this serious reflective study on safeguarding and the needs of survivors will be hard to limit only to one circumscribed geographical area represented by the Diocese of Blackburn.

Right at the heart of this blog’s concern and many other places is the desire that the suffering of abuse survivors should be understood, responded to and healed.  Up till now the Church has often insisted of responding through damage limitation and avoidance.  The Blackburn response is suggesting that these methods are no longer viable.  Perhaps the Blackburn Letter is the beginning of a new phase in the history of the Church of England.  One day it may be said that that on the 17^th June 2019 the Church of England, represented by the Diocese of Blackburn, began to move from denial and avoidance of the issue of abuse victims to a stance resembling healing, humility and new beginnings.

There is one group in society whose job it is to know how to use language with a precision and care for detail that few of the rest of us can match.  This group is the legal profession.  Every word and phrase produced professionally for a legal document or a court presentation has to matter.  There is no room for any vagueness of expression.  This is part of the training that lawyers receive.  Everyday conversations that ordinary people like us hold may make use of all kinds of language tropes, figures of speech, metaphor and irony.  Legal terminology will always shun these, preferring definitions to a more open-ended language.  This is probably why legal language and theology do not make a particularly good mix.  Church people are typically steeped in biblical imagery and theological propositions which do not achieve the level of precision that lawyers need.  Also, when it comes to the law itself, Church people are not very comfortable at having to obey rules that may appear to restrict their activities.  Why does law ever need to be applied to church life? 

.Few people are aware of the amount of Church law that has been compiled over the centuries to deal with the complicated status of the Church of England within British society.  But that theme is not one I want to touch on today. There is however one area of church religious practice which has to take the law seriously.  Because the sexual abuse of minors has been a crime for at least 150 years, the law of the land and the courts are necessarily involved when reports of such offences within the Church are revealed.  If the police decide to prosecute then court proceedings take place.  These ensure the gathering of evidence from victims, while listening to the defence of the alleged perpetrators so that due legal process is followed.  Alongside secular law, there may be also Church legal processes to be followed.  These operate according to somewhat different rules so that criminal investigations and church tribunals have to be held in different times and places, each following their own internal rules.   One particular discussion that is now exercising lawyers, politicians and senior church leaders is whether or not churches (and other similar organisations) should be ‘required’ by the law of the land to report all cases of sexual abuse against the young or whether this is just a recommended practice.  No such requirement exists at present to make it compulsory or mandatory for church leaders and personnel to report sexual abuse crimes. The argument about whether the law should be changed effectively hangs on these two words – ‘must’ and ‘should’.  Many people both in and outside the church are pressing for compulsory reporting of offences to a body outside the church.   Others want to give the final decision as to whether to report abuse to the church authorities.  At present, information on abuse cases is normally but not routinely handed on to the authorities.  Many lay people might think the debate between ‘must’ and ‘should’ is fairly arcane but it can be shown that there is actually a great deal at stake.   The vital issue here being addressed is this.  Are children better protected when church employees are legally required to report cases of actual and suspected abuse or can the Church manage this area of its life better without outside help?

Legal compulsion to act in a particular way may seem unduly harsh on an organisation that is largely staffed by volunteers.  The real argument for discretionary as opposed to compulsory reporting is, I believe, pressed by those who fear the loss of power and control within the organisation.  At present, bishops in the Church of England employ and oversee the work of Diocesan Safeguarding Advisers (DSAs).  By all accounts the effectiveness of these DSAs varies across the country.  One suspects that some of the differences can be accounted for in part, not only by their professional competence, but by the degree of interference by bishops.  Bishop A might well want to be open about cases of past abuse in his diocese, while Bishop B, with a deeply protective instinct for the reputation of his/her diocese, might want to keep all safeguarding information completely under his/her control.  A law requiring DSAs to report every case of abuse to an outside authority would remove at a stroke the variability of actual practice over the delivery of abuse protection.  That must surely be progress.

The Church has not been very good at speaking clearly on the topic of mandatory reporting (MR).  As things stand at present there is no MR in cases of child abuse.  Those who do report, as victims or witnesses, are often treated like whistleblowers in the NHS – in other words badly.  So many cases of appalling neglect in the NHS have only been revealed by the bravery of individuals who stood out against the system on behalf of patients.  Whistleblowers are only so described in a system when reporting is not obligatory but a matter of conscience.  When it is made compulsory to report, it no longer takes courage to do so.  What had been an individual act of bravery now becomes a routine duty required by law. The entire culture changes when MR becomes the new accepted norm; now the expectation is that abuse will be routinely exposed when it occurs.  The institutional culture is no longer creates principled heroes but a healthy environment where good practice is always expected by everyone within the organisation.  To take one example of a new culture created by a change in the law, we no longer chafe at having to wear seat belts for journeys by car.  It has become a routine action which no one comments on anymore.

Back in March an interview was given by Meg Munn, the new director of the National Safeguarding Panel on the Sunday Programme.  She began the interview by appearing to claim that mandatory reporting was already in place in the Church of England.  The interviewer, Edward Stourton, and the informed listener knew that this is not actually true.  Was this inaccuracy the result of sloppy thinking or was it a deliberate attempt to confuse the listener?  Later on in the interview, when pressed, Meg seemed to concede that reporting was still discretionary and that there was not yet any provision in law to require that all cases of abuse be reported to a local authority adviser.  The confusions shown in the interview rings alarm bells for some listeners, whether those in the Church or among the wider public.  For many people the difference between ‘should’ and ‘must’ might seem tiny.  In practice, as we have shown, there are huge differences of culture involved.  Far too many cases of abuse have been exacerbated by the attempt by bishops and others who want to protect the Church from independent scrutiny and ignore survivors and their stories.  The eventual resolution of this debate when we hope new law will be created, is something that does matter a great deal.  If safeguarding professionals and those who oversee them can take the view that they are entitled, when they see fit, to bury information or suspicions of abuse, that is often precisely what they will do.  When such action or inaction becomes answerable potentially in a court of law, this should change things for the better so that survivors and victims may benefit.

The organisation Mandate Now, which campaigns for MR, has made accessible some research from Australia where MR has been compulsory in many states for a number of years.  This research shows that many of the fears articulated in this country against MR are unfounded.  There is no incidence of accidental prosecution because of making a misjudgement about a case of abuse.  After a rise of reporting when such schemes come into force, there is then a levelling off and in fact cases go down as the seriousness of the offences permeates through the entire institution.  It is my perception that the only plausible reason for arguing against MR is an attempt by the Church to avoid surrendering institutional power.  The Church of England, as revealed by the IICSA hearings, has shown itself unworthy to be trusted in this area.  The credibility that it may have possessed until 10 years ago has been damaged, possibly beyond repair.  If it is ever to recover that credibility it must eat the humble pie of allowing its safeguarding practice to be scrutinised and scrutinised thoroughly by an independent body for an indefinite period.  The level of trust it has with the survivors I know is close to zero.  It will take a full generation of ‘acting justly and walking wisely before your God’ before this trust can be restored.

I am still a supporter of OXFAM – just.  The recent stories of scandal and mismanagement might have persuaded me to withdraw my modest contribution to their funds but I am still hanging on.  What has happened is that I have made a personal reappraisal of why I give at all to relief organisations in the first place. 

Thirty years ago, I heard about a school contemporary who went to Ethiopia to help with the humanitarian disaster in that country when millions were caught up in the famine.  His time there scarred him seriously and he returned to Britain a broken man.  The talk then was of a nervous break-down.  Now we might well describe his plight as Post Traumatic Stress.  My link with him was only indirect so I never heard how the story developed.  Even if he made a full recovery from his ordeal, my hearing a bit of his story taught me one thing about myself; helping the starving and the destitute in poor parts of the world was not my personal vocation.  Admitting that to myself allows me to understand how important it is to give so that others, more robust than I, can do this work.  So, it is not just that I, like most people in our society, realise with the mind that the problems of starvation, poverty and refugees are overwhelming in the world today.   People like us need to own this reality personally and try to do something about it.  If we cannot work ourselves to relieve these needs then we need to enable others to do this work.  That requires our money as well as our imaginative concern.  Even if we describe this giving as conscience money for not doing anything practical ourselves, it probably does not matter.  The important thing is that we care and we give.

OXFAM have, this week, been given a dramatic and severe telling off by the Charity Commission.  A story of sexual sleaze in Haiti and later cover-up was discovered with people high-up in the organisation putting reputation above people.  Some words from the report and quoted by the Times in its leader: ‘No charity is more important than the people it serves or the mission it serves.’  This is followed by comments from the Times leader writer.  ‘The Commission concluded that OXFAM’s priority had been to protect its reputation and its relationship with its donors rather than protect those it was supposed to be helping’. 

Am I the only one to note the telling parallel with the Church of England?  Both organisations are being accused of sexual abuse in the past with attempts by current leaders to cover-up in order to protect reputations.  The situation in OXFAM is potentially dire.  Reputational damage could destroy the organisation completely.  If donors and the government withdraw their support, the organisation may go into a spiral of decline.  The more it has to cut back on its work, the more would-be donors may look elsewhere to place their money.  The next few weeks may be crucial in deciding whether OXFAM has a future or not.  In spite of everything OXFAM will, I think, survive.   It has been functioning far longer than most other aid organisations, having been founded during the war to help feed Greek children starving as the result of the German occupation of their country.  By chance in the 1960s I met one of the founders, Dick Milford, and no doubt this personal contact with one of the original OXFAM group has helped to cement my long-term loyalty to the organisation.

The Church of England is of course far bigger than OXFAM, both in terms of its assets and the numbers of people involved in its work.  But like OXFAM, it faces an issue of trust with its supporting base.  The Charity Commission was not talking about the Church when it spoke about a charitable institution making it’s ‘priority … to protect its reputation… rather than protect those it was supposed to be helping’ but the description fits very well.  OXFAM will recover if it can regain the early vision of its founders, to feed the starving and the destitute in the world as well as providing the tools for self-sufficiency.  The Church of England, insofar as the Commission’s description of OXFAM applies to it as well, has a similar uphill task to restate its vision of itself.  Time and time again the IICSA process has revealed occasions where the Church acted, not for the benefit of those it had hurt, but to protect its reputation.   It is interesting to reflect on the fact that Jesus did not anywhere urge the disciples to become expert on public relations/reputation.  He realised that if they did what was required of them, then that would be a sufficient indication to the world that they were his disciples and thus servants of God himself.  ‘By this shall all know that you are my disciples, if you have love one for another.’

The care of the Church for survivors is not just a matter of justice.  It may be a matter, long-term, for the Church’s very survival.  Caring for and helping those who have been damaged is part of the core reason for its existence.  If ever protecting reputation is put above that, it is hard to see anything but shrinkage within the institution alongside a steady decline in its integrity.  A generation of young people are growing up who look at institutions and are quick to spot hypocrisy and loss of nerve.  If a Church talks about justice, reconciliation and care and then fails to deliver on these with a vulnerable group of its own members, the young are going to depart in droves.  OXFAM is facing its own crisis, having been charged with exploiting some of those that it was supposed to be helping.   All the photos of boxes of aid are going to look different when it is realised that the organisation have been employing individuals who appear more interested in having a good time than in serving the poorest on earth.   Now that significant numbers of clergy and bishops have also been revealed to be exploiters of the weak, the Church also has to work hard to show that any impression of widespread corruption is a false one.   To change the impression being given, one that breeds cynicism and distrust, the Church must labour hard to overcome any bad publicity.  The present generation of bishops and leaders must stand up and demonstrate that they care, they serve and they are ready to stamp out the abuses of power that are currently so damaging to the Church and to its reputation with the people of this country.

A couple of weeks ago, I was musing on the topic of what the Church would look like if it could outlaw abuse and heal the legacy of past failures.  Unbeknown to me, Andrew Graystone was thinking along similar lines and he produced a document entitled ‘An entirely different approach’.  What follows here is not so much a commentary on Andrew’s paper as a parallel reflection.  There are however some points that Andrew made which I wish to incorporate into my own reflection.  He spoke about the need for restoration rather than mediation.  Mediation would imply that there are faults on both sides, while the abused person in a church abuse situation is clearly a victim and needs to find healing and reintegration within the body.  The main initiative and effort in the process should come from the side that has committed the offence.  A further point is that the symbols that might be brought forward in the task of restoration and repentance should be new and able to transcend the tired message of the Church that it can carry on with ‘business as usual’.

These two ideas that I have lifted from Andrew’s piece are at the very heart of the Christian proclamation.  The first centres round the idea of healing, restoration and reintegration.  The second idea is that whatever is to be done, needs to bring newness into the situation. 

Of all the passages in the New Testament, the one that I could preach on at the greatest length are the words from Revelation ‘Behold I make all things new’.  These words have always inspired me because newness is a word that sums up into itself hope, change and the endless possibility of fresh beginnings.  It also appeals to my dissatisfaction with words.  Newness implies that there are always fresh ways of getting a handle on an idea.  One can always receive newness as a Christian simply by opening oneself up to what is being offered to us over a lifetime.  When a connoisseur buys a painting for a large sum of money, he does not expect merely to glance at it on the day of purchase and then put it away.  He buys it with the expectation that the beauty that drew him to it on the day of purchase will go on revealing new facets to him.  He never expects to grow tired of it.  What is beautiful is endlessly new.

Christianity is a bit like a valuable painting.  It shares with the painting an inability to be comprehended or explained easily or quickly.  It needs to be gazed at, contemplated and allowed to reveal the constant newness of its inherent beauty.  Beauty, as I have said many times before, points to the fact that reality is an inexhaustible source of truth and goodness.  It is thus a powerful metaphor for the way that when we enter the courts of worship, holiness and stillness we can find ourselves in the very presence of God himself.

Andrew’s plea for a quality of newness to mark the way that apologies are offered to survivors is also a plea for the Church to draw deeply into its reserves of imagination.  Through its traditions, its liturgies and buildings, the Church possesses a multitude of resources through which to articulate and proclaim the drama of restoration that is needed.  Two parties have become estranged by the actions of one side.  The failure of bishops and other clergy to protect the victims of sexual abuse is a deep wound as well as a tragedy.  Even if the current generation of leaders are not directly complicit in the offences, they wear the same robes, they have the same titles as those who are seen to have failed in the tasks of protection of the vulnerable.  Just as children have to carry on their backs, for good and for ill, the notoriety of their parents, so the occupants of the highest offices in the Church have in some way to own and take responsibility for the failures of their predecessors.  The reputations of certain Bishops of Chester and Lewes in the past is not just a concern of historians. If any holders of high office in the Church from the past are shown to be guilty of an offence, it is right for the current holder of that same office to do public penance for those misdeeds.

In 2019 we are living in a situation of massive corporate guilt which is a wound on the whole Church.  A huge effort of reconciliation is the only thing that may help to make things right.  With Andrew I call for something brand-new to be offered to the Church and society.  We need something far better than the tired apologies written by public relations experts and impression managers.  What might be helpful are public rituals at every one of our cathedrals.  There would be acts of penitence, lament and reconciliation between victims and abusers.  Those actually guilty of such abuse are not the only ones to be drawn into such events.  Everyone whose attitude of blindness and avoidance helped to facilitate abuse of the innocent over decades (and that means most of us) needs to be there.   In practice it might be confined to those who hold office in the Church.  They occupy a post and in many places they and their predecessors lamentably failed in the task of caring for the weak. 

There is a further major change that I would like to see happen in the Church as it seeks to put things right with the survivor population.  Given the fact that abuse is most often to be identified with dysfunctions of power within the institution, I would like to see the Church begin to study those sections of scripture which speak of reversing and turning upside down these power structures.  One place that I find the outlines of such a fresh approach powerfully expressed is in the Beatitudes.  As with many of Jesus’ sayings, the emphasis of the passage seems to be about the reversal of our normal ideas of power.  Those in the ‘blessed’ categories are among the weak by the world’s standards; in the light of the Kingdom they are rewarded and honoured.  Along with other preachers, I have many times preached on this power reversal in the Beatitudes, but the idea of honouring the weak seems to make little progress in the wider Church.

Can we imagine a Church where the values of mercy, gentleness, purity and peace-making are dominant?  No, we find it hard because the contrary values of control, power and domination are so strong in the institution we know and try to serve.  From time to time the Church does throw up as leaders individuals who are notably and genuinely without any trace of coercion in their manner.  They welcome us, make us feel safe and we come to trust them fully.  When such people do appear, we often find that they are not honoured by the rest of the Church but perversely are attacked for not being dominant and power-seeking. 

Jesus’ words about power which are scattered throughout the gospels are challenging today as they were to his contemporaries.  His preference for the weak, the outcasts and the poor is not just some kind of proto-socialism.  Somehow, Jesus wanted us to see that no community, no society, can ever be healthy unless it cares for those on the margins.  There are many on the margins today, it has to be acknowledged, in many different categories.  But the group we are concerned with here, the victims of spiritual and sexual abuse have a special claim on our attention.  Their needs need to be met and their wounds bound up.   But above all the Church has to realise that it cannot itself be whole when such people are ignored and pushed to the margins.

Unity is one of those slippery words which sound splendid until you begin analysing them.  On the positive side, unity implies an end to conflict, cooperation and everyone in harmony with everyone else.  It can suggest the victory of love over division and hostility.  But there is also a very real negative side to this innocuous word.  Unity is a word that can indicate the way an individual has become locked into a group-think situation.  Instead of having an independent functioning brain, the individual is forced into thinking in and through another person, perhaps a religious leader.

As I read accounts of Christians who grow up part of fundamentalist groups, one thing constantly amazes me.  A huge swathe of Christians takes on the assumption that their faith, their group and their understanding of the Bible is the only one that will enable them to go to heaven.  If they stray outside the faith of their group, even to another church down the road, they may be endangering their soul, entering a place that potentially leads to hell.  Not every conservative Christian thinks like this, but there are enough of them who do to make this extraordinary corruption of thinking exist right across the world today.  Even those who are part of denominational alliances of churches are encouraged to think that their congregation, their minister, has some special unique handle on the will of God.  Their membership of this congregation puts them in a place of safety, well protected from the heresies and false beliefs of those who belong to other groups.

Why am I so adamant that this way of thinking is wrong?  Common sense suggests that no human being can ever claim infallibility for the words he/she uses or the group to which allegiance is claimed.  Truth is far too elusive to be contained completely in human words and human speech.  My saying this will no doubt be responded to by the cry: ‘we have the Word of God in the Bible’.  The Bible, whatever claims are made for it, still consists of words.  Words need to be defined, interpreted and understood.  To suggest that there is ever a fixed meaning for a particular word which somehow transcends culture is absurd.  Words shift in meaning according to who utters them.  The task of translation and interpretation is always messy, imprecise and approximate.  Whatever rhetoric may be spouted from the pulpit, the declamation ‘the Bible clearly says’ is seldom, if ever, true.  If the Bible is so clear, why, one has to ask, is there so much disagreement among preachers.? When Pastor A takes a particular line on a bible passage which is different from Pastor B, what are we to say?  Do we conclude that one pastor has been given the Holy Spirit denied to his colleague, making him the true interpreter of God’s will?  Or do we take the common-sense point of view which says that the passage is open to more than one interpretation and that both are to a degree correct?  A ‘true’ church has to be for now a myth that will only be revealed to us the other side of the Second Coming.

A failure to explore the provisionality involved in bible interpretation is to betray a congregation.  To allow a group to believe that there is an infallibility in the preacher’s words is on the way to creating infantile dependence.  When a child is very small, it is expedient for him/her to believe that the words of the parent are completely reliable and true.  As the child grows older it is helpful for the child to be introduced to certain aspects of adult life.  For example, the child can be made aware that money does not grow on trees or that there is not an endless supply of food to be gathered from the shop whenever one feels hungry.  Things like choice or having one’s desires frustrated in some way are part of life.  In the same way the congregational member might be expected to learn that quick answers that will give a certain place in heaven are not on offer.  The Christian pilgrimage is about negotiating a way through this life.  It is about struggling to find God and to make sense of many things in the light of the teaching and example of Christ.  The answers are simply not handed to us on a plate.  Easy answers are a bit like ‘get-rich schemes’ where plausible rogues promise to take over all our decisions about money, giving us quick easy answers to investment decisions.  A lot of Christians seem to be sucked into ‘get-rich’ equivalents of faith.  These appeal, because, as I said before, they draw us back into the dependency that we enjoyed as infants.  Someone else is taking care of us and we do not have to do anything for ourselves except consume what is offered.  A relationship like this with a Christian leader is an immature one, both spiritually and emotionally.

Apart from Christians being drawn into immature dependency on a Christian leader, they are also seduced into an unthinking ‘oneness’ with other Christians.  This again feels attractive.  It is likened in their minds to memories of being in a family.  While families bicker and argue, they are still a place of safety which demands loyalty on the part of the members.  The ‘family’ Church has an appeal by evoking the safety of childhood, the comfort of numbers to face the threatening and the unknown.  Looking again at this situation from the outside, we can see once again that it needs to be challenged.  There is nothing wrong in seeking such comfort and safety for the purpose of negotiating particular crises in life.  It is when it becomes a permanent resting place that it become problematic.  The contention of this blog is that many of the stances adopted by conservative Christianity seem to be drawing people back into a place of immaturity.  Growth, whether as Christians or as human beings requires one to pass through thresholds or stages and these frequently involve challenges or pain.  To suggest that there is a ready-made path for the Christian life to follow that allows other people to do the hard tasks of thinking and making decisions, is unrealistic.  It is also harmful since much of the richness of life which we receive from making choices for ourselves has been taken away from us.  We have become husks, complete on the outside but empty on the inside.

Next month I am taking part at the International Cultic Studies Association in Manchester.  I normally report from this conference on the blog.  At this conference I meet a fascinating array of people, many of whom have given a year, even a decade to a destructive religious or political group.  While most of the participants are well on the way to full recovery, there is still a sense of loss for the time and the emotional expenditure that was handed over to the group.  In one way or another life was put on hold for them, maturity was delayed and they were made victims through the narcissistic behaviour of cult or church leader.  Their inner lives were hollowed out because, in the interest of the smooth running of the cult, only one opinion or way of thinking and feeling was tolerated.  That experience of unity was very costly to them personally.  Too many churches behave like cults and that is one of the topics that is debated at the bars and over meals in the conference. 

The sense of unity peddled by cults or abusive religious groups is seductive.  It reconnects people with times in their life when they felt safe and nurtured.  Whether this regression is good place for them to return to, is an open question.  Perhaps the first way of answering this dilemma is to take a complete look at what is going on for the individual.  Is the group they belong to helping truly to negotiate the challenges of maturity, the learning, the questioning and experience of pain?  Or rather is the group regressing the victim for its own possibly nefarious purposes?  Even asking that question may help to bring clarity into the situation, the clarity that can rescue a person from futility and emptiness.

I have a dream for the future.  In about twenty years an enterprising university in the UK will set up a department dedicated to the teaching of safeguarding for churches.  It will probably only be aimed at post graduates but however it is set up, it will be available to those who believe that safeguarding is a worthwhile career choice.  At the moment no such qualification exists in the UK as far as I know, even though the professional practice of safeguarding has been with us for around ten years. 

Twenty years or longer is a long time to wait.  Why do I not think it can be accomplished sooner?  The simple answer is that in the year 2019, safeguarding ‘experts’ seem to be in no agreement yet about what the profession is supposed to do.  This has been one of the drawbacks for the discipline; it has come into existence so quickly that there is no consensus about what should be covered either in training or in actual practice.  There would be no agreement currently among professionals over what topics should be covered in a hypothetical curriculum for my fantasy MA qualification.

Looking at the qualifications of many of the top professional safeguarding personnel, especially those working for the national church, we find a preponderance of individuals with social work and management qualifications.  This is hardly surprising, as social work is a good solid background for many of the tasks required of those who work in the safeguarding industry.  Social workers, through their training, will have a capacity to work with dysfunctional situations and sort them out.  Chaotic families are helped to get back on to an even keel.  Drug users are supported as they let go of their addiction.  The social work training will involve a large dose of sociological theory so that the trainee will know how society and human groups work.  I hope I am not too much short-changing the nature of the training given to social workers.  They are effective people in a world which needs order and decisive action to mend broken situations.

Alongside the crucial contribution and insights of social worker training, my future MA course would also need to explore the therapeutic dimensions of safeguarding.  Most current social workers will not have had this exposure.  I detect in social work a bias towards sorting out people’s outward circumstances (housing, money and family relationships) and that will be the key to their long-term well-being.  The therapeutic approach is on quite a different level.  Instead of focusing on outward chaos, the safeguarding professional should also have the tools to meet or refer on the psychological confusion that may have been caused by abuse.  Referral work and cooperating with other professionals active in the therapeutic world, will be a vital aspect of our university trained safeguarding officer of the future.

From the psychotherapeutic perspective there are a whole variety of potential symptoms that can arise from abuse.  One particular approach that I favour is to see abuse as being an episode of acute trauma.  There is a recent branch of psychology, ‘traumatology’ that explores how survivors experience and attempt to deal with such episodes.  Untreated acute stress can develop into actual mental illness but more typically most survivors are left coping with symptoms of extreme stress known as PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).   I have a special interest in looking at survivors’ experience in terms of trauma, since the one training I personally possess is in a method to counteract trauma and the PTSD that follows it.   Over the past twelve months I have begun to use this type of treatment, known as Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT) with survivors.  I have mentioned it before and any reader is welcome to contact me on the topic.

The way that abuse survivors often experience PTSD symptoms (such as shame, triggering and dissociation)draws in many other therapies and treatments that are on offer today for those who suffer, sometimes decades later, from the effects of abuse. No single person can possibly offer all these therapies.  But it should however be possible for those in the safeguarding world to have some overall acquaintance with many of them.  At the very least, anyone who sets him/herself as knowledgeable in the field of safeguarding should at the very least care passionately about the healing of survivors. When the Archbishop spoke about putting the survivor at the centre of concern, he might well have been telling safeguarding officers at all levels to become familiar with whatever is available to help them- therapy, patient listening or simple loving care.  Telling survivors to ‘go away’, the response of some officers, is not therapy

My notional MA will not just include a working knowledge of therapies available; it will also help a student to understand the legal, historical, cultural and spiritual background of abuse.   This might even involve a crash course in the way the Bible can be used as a tool of abuse.  One would hope to see other theological themes explored – getting to grips with guilt, reconciliation and the oppressive Christian theories of suffering that can burden many survivors.

 A final but crucial dimension I would like to see tackled for my MA course would be a study of the mind-set that allows abuse to happen in the first place.  Institutional power and narcissistic behaviours all need to be explored and understood.  If there is no time for some of these topics to be tackled during the course, a student could be mentored by someone who was familiar with such issues.  Perhaps, over a ten-year period the safeguarding professional working in a team might be able to claim the status of ‘expert’, having mastered to the best of their ability the multiple aspects of the discipline.  The claim of this blog post is a simple one.  To understand safeguarding, one needs professional training but this is nowhere being provided.  Worse still the content and scope of such training is not, as far as I know, even being discussed.  The current default method, that is offered by the ‘social work’ institutional/management approach, is the nearest we have to a model.  From the perspective of survivors, it is, on its own, damagingly and dangerously incomplete.  Such an approach seems to care little for the actual therapeutic needs of the victims.  Those who do reach out to survivors in a caring way do so in spite of the training they have received, not because of it.  Every human being has the capacity to reach out to another who is in need and that is what, thankfully, many local safeguarding officers do.

Although I have been blogging on the broad topic of the victims of church power abuse for over five years, I have had no direct contact with any of the professional providers of this service who work for the Church of England.  I have kept myself informed by keeping in touch with survivors both here and in the States.  The message I receive almost universally is that the more important in the hierarchy and ‘professional’ a safeguarding official is, the less helpful survivors find them to be.  Part of the problem I suspect is that, as I have already hinted, the senior staff at the centre are over qualified in some branch of social studies and the organisational skills required by complex institutions.  This V.I.P status cuts them off from people at the bottom who should be at the heart of their concern.  They seem completely at sea when asked to respond to the therapeutic needs of survivors.  One senior safeguarding personality working in London described themselves to a survivor as an ‘expert’.  As far I am concerned there are as yet no experts.  Not a single individual among the powerful in the safeguarding hierarchy appears to have crossed the crucial bridge between management and therapy/simple care.  The balance between management and care might theoretically be preserved by every safeguarding officer working collaboratively, but the discipline is still so young that models for working effectively together do not yet exist.  Instead of working together, we find the usual power games that undermine the effectiveness of many organisations, including the church.  Team-work?  The church has never offered a model as to how this should work in other areas of its life. 

Safeguarding as a discipline does not have a coherent standard of practice or theory across the board.  This may be because we do not have an agreed understanding of what safeguarding is.  I ask once again.  How can you talk about a joined-up approach if senior safeguarding officers are reported to be pushing aside and ostracising the victims and survivors who approach them?  Something is wrong and I suspect that until all the big names in safeguarding can sit down and agree on what they are meant to be doing, the world of safeguarding will continue to be dysfunctional and even harmful.   One of the most powerful things that the Church has to offer is to be a place of healing.  Let us demand that every part of the safeguarding enterprise starts to put healing right at the top of its agenda.