The book, Bleeding for Jesus, John Smyth and the cult of Iwerne camps (BFJ), which I received on Friday, has nothing resembling a good or tidy conclusion. There are indeed some good people scattered here and there in the narrative and these help to mitigate what is an appalling tale of cruelty, moral failure and indifference which fill the pages. The book by Andrew Graystone is one that shocks and depresses one at the same time. The only hero in the story is perhaps the author himself. Some in the story deserve our respect as innocent victims but only a small few deserve any admiration for their actions and Christian behaviour. Graystone’s narrative, in its clear simplicity, helps us to make sense of what is, much of the time, a total horror story. BFJ represents an extraordinary piece of research. The detail in it is mind blowing and, as far as one can tell, completely accurate. If there are errors, as some have already claimed, they do not detract from the main thrust of the book and its meticulous attention to detail. Graystone has evidently spoken to hundreds of people and mastered thousands of pages of documents. The work he has done is part of a wider but necessary movement to bring light into murky areas of Church safeguarding failures from the past.
The outline of the story of John Smyth and his nefarious behaviour towards a group of young privileged public-school boys in England is already well known. Graystone manages to provide a lot more detail through his patient questioning of witnesses who witnessed the events of 40 years ago and others more recent. The book well conveys the social and theological claustrophobia which have long been a feature of the Iwerne camps. Graystone has great sympathy and understanding for the emotional deprivation felt by many of the campers, educated in privileged schools. Smyth also well understood this vulnerability. This could lead to a desperate need in some boys, sundered apart from families at an early age, to have an understanding adult in their lives. Smyth offered himself to fit a paternal role for some of them. Using this position of proxy father, Smyth persuaded over 20 boys in England to undergo savage beatings at his home in Winchester. Somehow the pain of these beatings was thought to bring the recipient closer to a Father God. We are given a glimpse of a fundamentalist theology which could be so easily twisted to become toxic and suit Smyth’s nefarious purposes. The Iwerne theology taught to generations of its alumni, is also revealed to be, in fact, remarkably shallow and superficial.
Much of the brand-new information in the book, apart from the extensive filling in of many gaps of Smyth’s association with Iwerne camps in the 70s and early 80s, is the African material. Graystone was enabled to travel to Zimbabwe and South Africa in pursuit of his research about Smyth and he explains the hitherto little-known story of Smyth’s nefarious activities with boys’ camps under the auspices of his missionary society, Zambesi Ministries. It is in Africa that we find a number of individuals who seem to have stood up to Smyth and tried to resist his influence and power. There was the lawyer David Coltart and a group of ministers in Bulawayo who openly challenged his violence towards the boys in the camps in the name of discipline. This took place in 1995. Smyth’s connections with funding institutions in Britain and Zimbabwean politicians meant that every time the law seemed finally to be catching up on him, some intervention or legal trick rescued him. Even though he survived each of these brushes with the legal system, he eventually realised that he would need to move on again. This he did in the early part of 2001 when he and his family moved to South Africa.
The saddest part of the book is the complete failure of the safeguarding establishment in England to tackle the problem of Smyth when information began to leak out about him in 2013. Nobody wanted to hear the testimony of ‘Graham’, one of Smyth’s victims from Winchester College. He first disclosed his abuse by Smyth in March 2012 to his local Vicar in Cambridge, Alasdair Paine. It took 22 months before he was enabled to see a trained therapist in January 2014. Meanwhile the whole country had become sensitised to the issue of historic sexual abuse of the young after the emergence of the Savile scandal in 2012. It is quite clear from Graystone’s research that there were dozens of people in the Iwerne network, including Paine, who were potentially able to confirm the credibility of Graham’s account. Some had been sitting on information about Smyth for the previous 30 years. Graystone’s meticulous research reveals many of the names of people in fact who knew that Smyth was still dangerous. He was a recognisable danger to any young people in Africa who crossed his path. It was also a form of racism that allowed English leaders to think that, if Smyth was in Africa, at least he was no longer able to be a threat to them or their reputations. They carefully allowed themselves not to think about these potential innocent victims of Smyth’s considerable capacity for cruel and inhuman behaviour. The Church of England and the NST have shown little interest in the African victims, and no known attempt has been made to investigate the African abuse, let alone reach out to them. The casual racism continues.
I do not propose to add anything to the debate about how much our current Archbishop of Canterbury knew about the affair. Like many other people who had heard that something was amiss with Smyth which required him to leave the country, he may have thought that all was well, as long as the problem was not in Britain. One factual piece of information which is not in dispute is that Archbishop Welby personally knows many of the known victims, including Graham, from his own Iwerne days. He has, until very recently, seemed strangely reluctant to meet them and offer them any kind of reassurance or pastoral support.
The greatest imputation of guilt has to be laid at the door of some of the conservative Christians who were supporters of the Iwerne work. Some of these leaders, over 100 according to the evidence gathered by Graystone, have deliberately suppressed information about what they knew for a long time. Graystone is open about naming individuals that he believes had knowledge of the scandal and others who funded Smyth’s departure to Africa in 1984. At the top of the list is David Fletcher. He ran the camps for many years and was asked to be godfather to Smyth’s son, known as PJ. He and his brother Jonathan were key figures, not only in the Iwerne network but in the wider con-evo world. Many of those who had known and worked with Smyth were sufficiently powerful within the conservative networks to have been able to check Smyth’s activities once people had been alerted to his evil practices. Rather, information was kept within a relatively charmed group of senior Iwerne leaders. The wounded survivors, known to number 26 by 1982 were allowed to suffer without any support.
It remains to be seen how much impact this book will have on the morale of members of the Church, whether in the hierarchy or in the pew. The potential damage to the ability to trust the Church to manage its own affairs is enormous. Reading Greystone’s account makes one feel it is only ever interested in preserving its institutional reputation. This was certainly a factor in the case of the Winchester College leadership, back in the early 80s when the Smyth scandal first broke.
Andrew Graystone himself becomes part of the overall narrative when he was called in 2014 to help the Titus trustees manage the emerging Smyth scandal. He recommended to them, having read all the paperwork they provided, that they should make a clean breast of all that they knew about Smyth’s activities and commission an enquiry. That was too much for the trustees and they severed contact with Graystone soon after. This book in many ways is a delayed attempt to make the full disclosure that Titus should have made back in 2015. Because it comes from a source other than Titus itself, the reputation of the Trust is bound to be seriously damaged. Neither the Trust nor the Church of England as a whole seems able to reach up to a necessary standard of honesty and openness. Will the Church be able to recognise the part of the institution and its own senior members in this sorry tale? Already the only response is to quibble about details in the narrative. If there are errors of fact in the text, they are very few and certainly they do not devalue the incredibly detailed reporting which Graystone has provided. One thing that my rapid reaction cannot do, is to say where this story will go. Once again in the history of safeguarding, we are being told a message we have heard many times before. The Church cannot move forward unless it embraces a narrative of honesty, clarity and integrity. Without these things, the institution is once again seen to be failing to provide a moral example under God. It is failing both its own members and the whole nation.
A central question arising from this terrible story is whether the very essence of conservative evangelical doctrine is broken. Smyth was at the epicentre of Iwerne-lead formation for dozens of leading figures in the current Church.
How can anyone base their life, their identity around an abuse-centred nucleus? Smyth’s whole methodology is integral to the evangelical way. Even breakaway streams such as the charismatic Anglican movement must be quaking with tremors from Graystone’s work and so much before it. The tentacles of Iwerne culture are almost ubiquitous.
Of course many will argue they knew nothing about it. Fewer now can mount this defence. Moreover ignorance is a poor argument since students of the faith expect their teachers to have examined their beliefs and practices thoroughly, not to have stopped their ears and covered their eyes.
Steve, I have considerable sympathy for what you say.
However, I’m not clear what you mean by ‘Smyth’s whole methodology is integral to the evangelical way’?
There are many strands of evangelicalism, and millions of evangelicals outside the Church of England, including in other countries. Many of these would not recognise the traditions and culture of Anglican ConEvos and the Iwerne movement, especially as the latter is limited to the English upper classes.
However, I absolutely agree that the Iwerne movement is broken beyond repair, and its influence within the C of E dangerous and pernicious.
“…the Iwerne movement is broken beyond repair” – time will tell, but I don’t see why even this would follow automatically. To quote from an earlier review of the book,
“Our hearts go out to all those who suffered. But the Smyth tragedy does not reflect the work of Iwerne camps. Smyth was an aberration, and Iwerne has a much larger story to tell, and yet Graystone condemns the whole of Iwerne’s ministry over 90 years.”
Moreover it’s not clear how A.G. draws the trail from Smyth’s crimes to Iwerne being a cult – anyone?
Perhaps you could read the book and find out Andrew’s rationale for calling Iwerne a cult? He’s not the only one to do so, incidentally.
As for Smyth being an ‘aberration’, Iwerne has fostered other such aberrations – Jonathan Fletcher being the most well-known.
I may have to, unless someone provides a succinct summary of the rationale.
To the best of my knowledge, JF’s abuse didn’t reach the point of making anyone literally “bleed for Jesus”. In terms of the book’s title, Smyth was indeed unique. On the other hand, I don’t think Smyth went so far as to scupper people’s careers if they didn’t do what he wanted. There’s clearly abuse and abuse.
The main poor reflection on the Iwerne system re. Smyth is on the huge safeguarding failure over such a long time – which doesn’t apply so much to the Fletcher case where it’s ECW that’s justly been on the spot.
Steven Hassan (combatting cult mind control 2018) defines a destructive cult as: ‘Any group that uses unethical mind control to pursue its ends’.
It’s pretty clear that Smyth manipulated highly intelligent people in numerous instances to go against their natural instincts and submit to extreme sexualised violence. They certainly weren’t in their right minds.
Victims frequently bled down their legs from wounds to their bare buttocks. Smyth thoughtfully provided nappies for them to wear so the blood wouldn’t show through after they had dressed.
Buy the book
Yes it’s easy to see how Smyth exercised a kind of mind control by his own subtlety. However, the book’s very title alleges that the Iwerne camps in their entirety functioned (and function?) as a cult. This is why the question of whether Smyth was typical or exceptional is so key to settling the other.
Further to my previous post, I think it could be argued that JF’s behaviour was more canonically cult-like than JS’s. I wonder if AG is contemplating an investigative exposé on the former? Or would it need to wait to be posthumous….
As I’m repeatedly being urged to get the book for myself, I may have to overcome my suspicion that I’d lack the stomach for its anticipated gruesomeness. Not everyone relishes bingeing on horror porn. A possible workaround may be via a clerical in-law whose birthday is coming up 😉
Dan, I appreciate that you may cringe from reading descriptions of the violence. I have little stomach for violence myself. But there is far more to the book than that, and if you want to understand why people call Iwerne a ‘cult’ there is really no substitute for reading it. The case for doing so is built up by a lot of carefully researched detail, and I don’t think I could do it justice with a quick summary.
I will say, however, that Iwerne did, and apparently still does, take over and control its members’ lives in a way that is unhealthy and positively dangerous.
There’s two issues about Iwerne that come up more generally.
i. disquiet about segregated camps aimed at elite schoolboys. – is this right or not?
ii. more concerning is the tightness of the community of (some of) those who attended Iwerne. This seems to pervade as a kind of freemasonry / mafia giving compliant proteges plum c of e jobs. This as a hidden hand of influence can not be good for church. I have read multiple accounts of other leaders inside conservative evangelicalism of people unhappy at the way this operates.
31:8 (again) are producing a cultural review of the Iwerne parent body the titus trust – this may be too limited in scope to get to ii.
https://thirtyoneeight.org/get-help/independent-reviews/titus-trust-review/
The community appears to be tight partly because of how Iwerne is (was?) structured. In addition to the summer camps there are Easter camps / Christmas camps / weekly prayer meetings in termtime / 1-3 weekly 1-1 meetings with an older Iwerne mentor. All of this is detailed in the book
Dan, I am in touch with so,I’d Conservative Evangelicals who share the theology who nevertheless regard the Iwerne brand as cultivated. It’s not just those of opposite or different perspectives. Some of these figures were very close insiders but broke away. Such people can be the most powerful voices in focussing the debate and whether the “ cult “ label is fair or not. The fact they had such difficulty in leaving and know friends personally who cannot, for fear of the consequences for themselves, their families and their financiers, speaks volumes.
Correction “ Cultic” not “cultivated”
That makes very good sense. Just wasn’t sure if Andrew G. provides a focus on the sort of detail to which you say you have access.
Of course, to the extent that what you say is broadly applicable, it does tend to undermine the thesis that con-evan theology per se tends to generate Smyth-type behaviours. Their roots would likely be better sought in long-standing public school practices which have been so extensively discussed on the blog in recent threads.
I’ve read enough of the book so far to see that Andrew does provide detail to back up the ‘cult’ label.
I haven’t read enough yet to know, however, whether he argues that conservative evangelical theology in itself – as distinct from the particular brand of it espoused by Iwerne – ‘generates’ abusive behaviours.
Personally, I would rather say that the Iwerne theology and, more importantly, the culture and traditions provide an environment in which abusers can hide and operate more easily than they might in your average parish church.
Other brands of conservative evangelical theology are available, particularly outside the Church of England. The dominance of Iwerne is mostly an Anglican phenomenon.
Smyth appears to have been a poster boy for Iwerne people. He was alternately charming or aggressive and energetic to promote his version of the faith. They seemed to have been enthralled by him and he exercised considerable agility and expertise in manipulating himself to positions of power in churches across 3 nations with consummate ease and speed, levered by his legal inside track to secular high authority.
He was out there expounding the gospel in schools and universities in a way most evangelicals could only dream of having the courage to do. Moreover he was “effective”. That there was a sinister dark side to this, was usually overlooked. Indeed his methods were mostly rubber stamped. He was a Individually he gaslighted his victims and cleverly segregated them to allow his abuses to continue despite looking now as so obviously wrong.
Graystone pulls together an extensive network of connections between leaders across the Anglican evangelical world and traces back their early years to the time where Smyth had huge influence at Iwerne or in Winchester school, for example, across a broad field right up to the Archbishop of Canterbury.
Yet that forceful, charismatic personality is that same person we often fall for to lead our churches and missions. We want results and we are prepared endlessly it seems to overlook the methods used. That is something we must change or we risk the cycle repeating.
I’m reading the book for a second time, having found it more personally disturbing than I expected. I have no substantial criticisms to make, but I have a couple of comments.
1. I don’t dispute Graystone’s analysis of the emotional vulnerability of public schoolboys to Iwerne-ism, but I feel it would have been helpful if he could have found and interviewed men (if there are any) who went through the whole Iwerne system, were not victims of Smyth, but have since come right out of it, and got from them their analysis of what captivated them. As it is, we only have Graystone’s theorizing, which I accept as plausible but is not securely established.
2. In a similar way, I would have liked Graystone’s analysis of the psychology behind Smyth and Iwerne-ism, and of the ‘theology’ of Nash and Iwerne, to be backed up with some technical analysis from experts in these areas. As it is, the analysis is inevitably amateur, though again, I’m not impugning it.
The only factual error that I am aware of regards Mark Ashton, who is treated on p. 194 as if he is alive, though I believe he died more than a decade ago. I haven’t yet found the date. Also, he was at Oxford, not Cambridge as stated on p. 45. I was almost contemporary with him at the same college.
I noticed that the camp programme for 1979 featured the current or recent Area Dean of Oxford.
From a reliable source, Mark Ashton died from a terminal cancer on 3rd April 2010.
Apologies. I may have stated the cause incorrectly, but the date of death ought to be reliably correct.
correct. Mark Ashton born 12 Jan 1948 died 3 April 2010 aged 62.
correction to date of birth. Source was 12.1.1948. which I read as 12 Jan, it’s the other way around, 1st December, so 61 when he died.
now I’ve gone down a rabbit hole. 12th Jan is correct. The Times obituary gave the wrong date (1st December)!
Thanks for this, Stephen. I beg to differ on heroes and on the contrary, I see a number of impressive people who emerge as heroes: the brave survivors who challenged, reported or simply survived Smyth; the particular strength and determination of ‘Graham’, which has been so significant in bringing this out into the light; the others here who also took action by reporting/referring; then there are the journalists/media heroes, such as Cathy Newman; and all those who did the right thing in Africa, such as the Bulawayo pastors and David Coltart.
Of course, they contrast with those whose behaviour was in various ways the opposite.
Hear, hear!
Also, I don’t think there has been enough recognition of Alasdair Paine’s bravery in acting right at the start, by reporting this to Mark Ruston and helping establish the scale of the problem in Cambridge, thereby starting the investigative ball rolling. He was very young and it must have been daunting to stand up to someone like Smyth, yet he bravely raised the alarm, and Mark then acted on it. As far as I can see, most of the subsequent investigative events flowed from Alasdair’s action.
My impression from the first half of the book is that the story is even worse than I had imagined. Truly abhorrent and inconceivable that such a psychopath was just shipped off to Africa.
But what’s also surprising is how familiar the culture is, having grown up in a conservative evangelical (but definitely not public school or Iwerne) background. The format of the camps is similar to CYFA ventures: “quiet times” first thing in the morning, sport during the day, meetings every evening followed by bible study in the dormitory before bed. And leaders who used to sleep in the dorms with us, which seemed entirely normal. Where Iwerne stood out (past tense? Does it still go on?) is the mentoring system with older men visiting teenagers between camps, the coordinated letter-writing etc. All rather creepy.
Also familiar from church youth groups is “social and theological claustrophobia”, as everybody seemed to believe exactly the same thing and nobody stepped out of line or questioned what was being said. Of utmost importance was not having a non-christian boy/girlfriend because they could lead you astray, particularly along the path to pre-marital sex, which was the worst thing imaginable. To some extent then a built in secrecy where everyone played a role and said the right things, with biblical facts rarely open to discussion and a constant reminder of our sinfulness. This was probably easier to exploit in the Iwerne/boarding school background, which knew corporal punishment: something I never heard of in my entire education.
I’ve no idea if ideas from Iwerne spread out through the conevo network, or if the flow was in the opposite direction. But laying all blame at Iwerne’s door is probably simplistic, at least when it comes to the theological aspects.
Could the fact that Mark Ashton, prominent Iwerneite and Winchester chaplain as described in BFJ, was secretary of CYFA 1981-7, be relevant? Or was that after your time?
I was there in the early 1990s so that would fit. And just to clarify even though I now think the theology was problematic, I had a great time on those camps and there was never a hint of anything untoward.
Sleeping in beds next to adult leaders seemed completely normal, whereas I would now be very concerned if my children were doing the same thing.
It may be of interest that Mark Ashton preached a sermon at St Andrew the Great on 10 February 2008 in which he speaks of a meeting (25 years earlier) in which he invited the CYFA Venture leaders ‘to compare how they ran their camps with the methods of the cultists. We all found the comparison uncomfortable…There were alarming parallels. To think how close we were to the brainwashing methods of the cults!’
Read more (though the main part is an exposition of 2 Samuel 4) here:
https://www.yumpu.com/en/document/view/39849543/2-sam-4-the-round-church-at-st-andrew-the-great-cambridge
Interesting reference Edmund. Many did know what had been going on, but few had the strength, courage or ability to stand up to it (Smyth) or stop it continuing.
I attended CYFA camps earlier than Maurice and I identify strongly with his comments. There was none of that Iwerne heavy mentoring in our young lives as far as I was aware. However growing up conevo, it’s almost impossible to extricate our way from the Iwerne brigade, despite no direct connections (again so far as I’m aware) because the leadership venerated people like John Stott and initially David Watson, that is before he became “woosey”.
But what was done about this? I don’t get it? “To think how close we were”…but did anything change?
I think that the strong overlap between (a) being viewed as a cult and (b) taking one’s Christianity very seriously meant in the last analysis that people were unwilling to forsake (b). This was for the unavoidable reason that the first disciples had taken their Christianity very seriously (and Jesus had himself been a radical).
Maurice, was your experience in the Church of England, in free churches, or in churches of some other denomination?
The section on E Nash (Bash) towards the end of the book gives a useful analysis of the origins of Iwerne and the narrow thinking, living-in-a-bubble, binary, right/wrong, selective use of proof scriptures etc that we’ve discussed many times on these pages. Worth reading.
Two thoughts.
1. As a Crusader camper in the late 60s, both as a boy and a “tent officer”, it seemed perfectly normal, and indeed responsible, to have an officer sleeping in a bell tent with about 5 boys. Like Maurice and CYFA above, the camp regime was similar to Iwerne but without the heavy mentoring; as one got older there was room too for discussion and questioning.
2. Having now finished the book and read the postscript about Nash, I am wondering if he was not just damaged and/or repressed (forgive me if I’m using inadequate language) but sat somewhere on the autistic spectrum? There are aspects of his behaviour which, to me at least, suggest that he might have been.
There’s no “just” about it. Graystone himself points out the damage, perhaps obliquely, by reference to Smyth’s being dumped at boarding school and almost absent father. The repression is obvious too from the book, as well as sadism perhaps more deliberately evil. If he were ASD, the behaviour should have alerted others to restrict or eliminate his ministry regardless of diagnostic label. He was narcissistic too.
Steve, I think that Andrew’s remarks on autism were referring to Nash not Smyth. But of course I’m happy to be corrected.
Oh, sorry yes you’re right
To provide more context, at my prep school in the 1970s the dormitories were assigned by age, so I remember being shocked when I was sent to Winchester College to discover that in my boarding house (the one that Smyth mostly preyed on) the dorms were all mixed age, 13-year-olds in with 18-year-olds. The senior boy in the dorm had the same ancient two-inch mattress on a black steel bed frame as everyone else, but enjoyed the great privilege of a bedside light. Given that an older boy seems impossibly grown up to a younger boy, as much say as a 30-year-old would to an 18-year-old, I’d suggest that in this – as in much else – Winchester provided excellent preparation for what followed.
Hi Anon – do you mean just a supervising 18 year old with 13 year olds rather than a mix of all ages? That would have been the same kind of arrangement as at my middle school. The book describes 4 friends all sharing a room in the house in their last year aged 17-18.
Yes, sorry, I could have been clearer. There were all ages in the dorms, i.e. mixed aged. I just included the upper and lower limits.
I have just this morning received my copy of the book and have flicked through the passages of interest to me, about Win Coll. That minor detail, of four boys in my boarding house (inc. Simon Doggart) sharing a room in their final year, refers I think not to a dormitory but to a study, and it seems to me to be incorrect. There were two such shared studies for four in the house – I spent a year in one of them – but they were for younger boys, say aged 16 or so. In their final year in the house, boys either had studies of their own or shared with another boy in one of the two studies at either end of the study-block corridor. But of course I might be remembering things wrongly.
Similarly, I don’t recall anything of a pool at John Smyth’s house, but again that’s maybe just my memory at well over forty years’ distance, although it is the kind of thing that would certainly stick in the mind. I do find it odd, however, that there’s no mention in the book of Michael Green, a visiting evangelist who gave an extremely popular series of talks in St Michael’s Church within the college and a key figure in converting boys to, as I understand them, Iwerne-type ideas.
Everything else stacks up completely, and the level of detail is impressive.
Simply from skimming through these few brutal passages at the beginning of the book I can’t say how happy I am to have discovered atheism at around this time. I might mention, however, that for twenty or thirty years after I left the place I’d have a recurring nightmare that – despite being an adult – I was back in the school, back in that corridor with all the senior boys’ studies.
Thanks – my mistake, as the book refers to study not dormitory.
In reference to this, they could not have shared a study in ‘their last year’ as it was typical for boys to have a final term for Oxbridge entrance; if we mean their last full year then I am sure you as a Wykehamist are more accurate here in saying that this might have been actually a year earlier (age 16-17), and probably that was what the interviewees meant.
The growth from 20 to 50 in the Winchester College Christian Forum came as a result of Keith de Berry’s mission, autumn 1974.
But I had puzzled over the notable growth a few years later from 50 to 100. John Woolmer puts this well after he left (Spring 1975), but sources agree that it was in the 1970s. For growth of that order one has to suspect Michael Green who was heard gladly by educated types.
Keith de Berry was Michael Green’s predecessor at St Aldate’s, and John Woolmer started on the staff there (Aldate’s/Matthew’s) in the same year as MG, 1975. The 20th century has been rightly called the Christian century – the numerical growth is obvious but the proportional growth is something more remarkable. There were various revivals around the 1970s and I always imagine MG’s books in translation had something to do with that.
Thanks for the reply. The single studies I mention were occupied by boys in the academic year before the Oxbridge exams in autumn (after which they were vacated), so I’m mystified as to what is being referred to. But it’s a trivial point.
Regarding the Smyth pool, I’ve been thinking that maybe my visits to his house were in the winter months and so it was closed.
That figures. The reference to the four boys sharing must surely indeed be to when they were 16-17 (Lower Sixth or whatever Winchester called it). So, 1976-7. There is another reason for saying that too. A Graystone portrays it accurately that only one of the four was (as at September 1976 presumably) sceptical of Christianity. But that one (Mark Stibbe) says in ‘Revival’ that he became a Christian 17.1.77 (AG doesn’t deal with his conversion). This date is precisely the same sort of time that the beatings-included type of discipleship programme was introduced for the first time to Andy Morse his roommate as he turned 16. (If indeed he was the first, which we are assuming.)
Correction: not 16-17: instead, 15-16. Fast-tracking meant that people (or the more intelligent) missed a year or part-year and completed publics-chool in under 5 years and at the age of 17 or (if one’s birthday was in the autumn Oxbridge term) just turned 18.
There are a number of us on here with brutal school experiences in tandem with a Christian theme and I respect your wisdom in remaining anonymous. and choosing atheism.
Given the quality and detail I’ve read in the book, I wouldn’t be at all surprised that there are other names which have probably been carefully omitted. The author appears to have been able to back up most of what he describes, and I imagine there was plenty of material left out, that would require further enquiry and corroboration.
There will be a fair few people hoping Graystone doesn’t extend his work.
That’s very interesting Edmund, thank you. My experience was in the Church of England in what I think is now part of the wider ReNew network. Suburban middle class but with no obvious links to Iwerne, Public Schools or anything like that.
Yes, I meant Nash.
Just to say, my son is autistic. He is more alert to little old ladies struggling with shopping bags, (me!) than most, and possessed of enormous emotional intelligence. People don’t read the text books, and unless the autism is so bad that it is more or less the dominant thing in their lives, even autistic people vary in how detached and unobservant they are. Sounds as if Nash was high on the “totally oblivious” scale!
Thank you – most helpful!
Two first reactions to reading the book – the first what an important piece of thorough and painstaking research this is, and how essential once again it is to have everything there in print and published –taken from locked drawers and hidden corners and out in the world. In other words, we are all then witnesses to the dreadful abuse that occurred – physical, sexual, emotional and spiritual – and equally witnesses to the appalling response of those who knew and all the tricks and deliberate prevarications.
Secondly even the C of E must recognise that the phrase ‘thoughts and prayers’ has now become worse than meaningless. Surely it is now synonymous with ‘we’d rather not think about this, we are not going to do anything about this so f… off’. If anyone had given even a moment’s thought and reflection, let alone a prayer, to what had happened to the victims then action would have been taken and a compassionate response given. Time to stop wheeling out this hackneyed phrase … it’s also an insult to those of us who do actually think about these injustices and do pray about it.
If only Iwerne, Titus Trust, and those Anglican clergy who knew of Smyth’s crimes had taken the decisive action that the Bulawayo pastors and David Coltart did, think how much misery and damage would have been avoided. At least one life would probably have been saved, too. Church, this is how it’s done.
I wonder what the trajectory of this book will be. Will it be quickly forgotten or will it start the forest fire the mainstream churches need to change their approach to abuse within their midst?
Even if there is a reluctance to read, buy it or even think about it, which I suspect will continue, there must surely come a point where Graystone’s work becomes essential reading. If it were me, and I was in charge, I’d make sure my top leaders had read it, at least from a risk management perspective, even if I wanted to distance myself from it personally.
One important point I hadn’t grasped was illustrated with Emmanuel Wimbledon’s response to the Jonathan Fletcher revelations. They set up their own website and support approach to potential victims. At the time I thought this was a positive thing, but I now see how victim approach and support needs to be entirely independent. But funded obviously.
Let’s not forget that the ‘official’ C of E review led by Keith Makin has yet to appear: next year, we are now told, is likely. The magnitude of the subject has meant that the process has been considerably prolonged and Mr Makin has needed the assistance of a co-reviewer. Clearly the Makin review will be read by senior people in the C of E (and doubtless others), surely with consideration of future risk management very likely to be at the forefront. That is essentially the object of the review.
It will be interesting to compare the the two documents.
While I hope Makin will lead to future improvements, I doubt it will bring much closure in the Smyth case unless there are significant facts not covered in the book. The 31:8 Fletcher review recommended leaders should maybe step down but nothing has happened and as with the handling of Smyth, many people were involved but nobody was singled out.
The Rector of St Helen’s Bishopsgate is head of ReNew and friend of JF who heard nothing about him losing his PTO in 2017, nor of him being marched off a Iwerne camp and first heard of allegations in 2019. Andrew Graystone places his position in question due to his knowledge of Smyth (p194) “to this day it is unclear to me why any of the men … are still ministering in the Church of England”.
Not named specifically in the 31:8 Report, his response from the pulpit criticised politically motivated attacks, referred instead to a member of his staff and then arranged for a (not-completely) independent reviewer to look at the Church as a whole. The conclusion was that all was well and that was that.
I found JF’s presence in the book more peripheral than expected. Graystone suggests David Fletcher knew about his brother’s behaviour but provides no evidence to support it. Someone probably needs to write another book.
So, I have just finished reading the book – the first book I have started and read right through to the end in years – That tells you something about the book (and maybe about me!)
Initial Thoughts: As a narrative account it was excellent- fact based, gave the impression of being thoroughly researched, and for much of the book, free from subjective and leading comments. It was written in a highly engaging style and provided an excellent insight into what happened.
However, I wasn’t so sure about the last couple of chapters where the author did provide his own theological interpretations. In an interview he gave before publication and in the book itself, he attempts to draw a direct link between John Smyth’s behaviour and Conservative Evangelical doctrine. If you have been soaked in reformed Protestant theology (as I have been), you know that it is taught that there is nothing man can do to earn God’s favour – nothing. not even accepting brutal, humiliating punishment. Therefore, what John Smyth did, and others, was an aberration and deviation from the Evangelical theology.
Attempts to draw a links are, in my opinion, mischievous and smacks of trying to superimpose a particular theological standpoint. Lee Furney talks about bad apples being the result of diseased trees. But the diseased trees in this case was the hermetically sealed, exclusive and arrogant subculture of the church that Titus Trust etc inhabited. At no point did the author make any credible logical attempt to justify that “Bleeding for Jesus” was rooted in Biblical truth. But implied it, nevertheless.
You may say ” well hold on he is an author not a theologian” fine – but that didn’t stop him from making some sweeping and (in my opinion) inaccurate statements on this matter.
That is not to say that some (many) present days leaders, should not have a long hard look at themselves. I am surprised that some key leaders haven’t as yet “considered their position” and some who I previously held in high regard have appeared to have gone into some sort of a graceless self-protection mode. (I may post more about this later)
Overall, I think this book will be a part of a process that should bring significant change in how we view Christian leadership culture. And for that it should be praised. I would purchase and read any subsequent books he may write
Surely, it’s not Andrew who thought there was a Biblical foundation but Smyth? Or claimed to, at any rate.
yes Smyth did claim this , but he was wrong , very wrong – And most Evanglicals will think he was very wrong .
Yes, we all know that. I’m unclear what point you are making about the book. But thanks for the review.
From Seamus’ first post:
“…he [A.G.] attempts to draw a direct link between John Smyth’s behaviour and Conservative Evangelical doctrine. If you have been soaked in reformed Protestant theology (as I have been), you know that it is taught that there is nothing man can do to earn God’s favour – nothing. not even accepting brutal, humiliating punishment. Therefore, what John Smyth did, and others, was an aberration and deviation from the Evangelical theology.
Attempts to draw a links are, in my opinion, mischievous and smacks of trying to superimpose a particular theological standpoint.”
On reading my earlier post, I may have been unclear in one important point. I am certainly not saying Andrew Graystone provides Biblical justification for abusive behaviour, but JS tried to, and maybe AG believe Evangelicals are all are tarred with the same brush and are therefore more susceptible to indulge in such behaviour than non-Evangelicals.
On a completely different point I find myself pondering on how leaders, who exhort Christians to make a stand for Christ in hostile arenas such as workplaces, didn’t have the moral courage to stand up to appalling behaviour by their own leaders for fear that their career would be negatively affected. This was certainly a huge factor in the Jonathan Fletcher debacle but also played a part in with John Smyth.
Whilst I don’t think many in that NeoCon group specifically approved of JS/ JF activities, they certainly didn’t have the backbone to try and put a stop to it .
No, there we agree. It’s really only retired clergy who say anything.
is there any usa connection? certain pseudo-psychological con evangelical literature/teachings from the eighties (usa based) promoted a hard line christianity with strictness/physical chastisement by parents for supposed ‘misdemeanors’ of children. the subsequent loss of church membership is evident of the teenagers who left, and those who left should probably be asked why did they leave?
Heavy Shepherding (cf. Fort Lauderdale Five etc.) was from precisely the same time-period (mid 1970s onwards). I have already alerted some people to the significance of this cultural trend.
It happened over here too, particularly associated with the so-called Restoration churches and their networks. Bugbrooke also engaged in it, and some accused YWAM of doing the same.
Coercive control is ugly and destructive, whatever the faith expression of the group where it occurs.
Maybe Harvestime / Covenant Ministries International is the stream most commonly cited in this connection. There was (late 70s, early 80s) something in the air about pastoral submission; it was an idea being tested out or rediscovered. It is not surprising that various groups cottoned onto it; nor that mistakes were made.
They called it ‘shepherding’. The church I attended in Eastbourne got involved in the movement and it proved both damaging and divisive, despite the Sussex ‘apostle’ Terry Virgo being less extreme than some of the other leaders.
I eventually left that church as it got more involved in the movement and in shepherding. That’s when I became an Anglican.
Although I know of at least one Anglican church which got involved with ‘heavy shepherding’.
Presumably within the same historical moment (latter 1970s and 1980s) as it will have seemed more normal then? It will not have been more than a fringe Anglican phenomenon, but there are a few Anglican churches that are more Brethren than Anglican.
Yes, it spread beyond the Downs and Dales/Harvestime and Coastlands networks. With similarly damaging results.
It’s interesting that in response to the recent scandals Andrew Wilson (formerly employed by that Eastbourne church) raises as one of his worries that we will overcorrect. That is more authoritative correction from a church leader will have to be taken down a few pegs.
see https://soundcloud.com/mere-fidelity/bad-church-leadership from about 37 mins in.
Which Eastbourne church was he employed by?
The ones I attended were South Street Free Church (Countess of Huntingdon’s Connexion) and then All Saints, where Gordon Rideout was the vicar.
It was South Street which got involved in shepherding; our church secretary had family at Terry Virgo’s church in Seaford. We had no pastor at the time, and South Street’s deacons became our ‘shepherds’. That was in the early days of what became the Restoration Movement; it’s had quite a few other titles too.
Kings Church Eastbourne – I don’t know its former names. – and it’s a large newfrontiers church based in a warehouse. I might have been presumptuous in assuming a connection to your churches.
Andrew as an author is one of the best known newfrontiers people.
Having spent a lot of time in restoration churches, where submitting to church authorities is a key part of their teaching, I’m interested in their response to the many power abuses that have come to light in recent years.
I’m replying to Jon, but the ‘Reply’ button is missing from his comment re Eastbourne churches.
I left Eastbourne in 1984, and there was no Kings Church in the town then. It’s a later church plant. I think Terry Virgo was just leaving Seaford and starting up the church in Brighton (which became Coastlands) at that point. As I said, it was early days in the movement. I did get to the first two Downs Bible Weeks, at Plumpton Racecourse.
It may be that some of the people from South Street went over to Kings Church when it started up, but all that is some years after my time.
It would be unjust and potentially unlawful to restrict or eliminate someone’s ministry simply because of being autistic, just because some people in that category are unfit. It would be rather like, on the basis of the Iwerne and Emmanuel Church scandals, removing or restricting the ministry of all white, privately-educated men.
Indeed, if anything I thought one trait of ASD people is they generally hate lying/deception and frankly don’t know how to do it. Hardly the stuff of which either Smyth or J. Fletcher were made!
Yes, Dan, that is my opinion. They don’t do sly, and are usually essentially sweet natured, without a bad bone in their bodies. Eccentric saints, rather unworldly. Basically, we all generalise, pigeonhole and categorise, but generalising has drawbacks.
An instructive thread. Thank you, everyone.
As so much has already been written, you may not want to read another long review. But here is what I wrote for Evangelicals Now. For background: I haven’t participated in any Iwerne or Titus Trust camps, and so was able to write independently. (I was state educated.) https://www.e-n.org.uk/2021/09/reviews/bleeding-for-jesus-some-initial-thoughts
Julia, I am really interested in reading your review but the link above doesn’t seem to work. Please could you repost it? Thank you very much.
Replying to my own contribution – just to say that Leslie has kindly posted the correct link below. (Thanks, Leslie.) Not sure what went wrong.
Julia Cemeron’s review is here:-
https://www.e-n.org.uk/2021/09/reviews/bleeding-for-jesus-some-initial-thoughts/?search=1
Thank you, Leslie – much appreciated.