by Stephen Parsons

It is hard to extract positive lessons from the woeful saga of John Smyth and all that has followed.  In the midst of all the sometimes shabby and even dishonest behaviour on the part of leaders and others in the Church of England, I have found one clear display of professional integrity.  This was not located in the Church, but from some in the journalistic profession, most notably in the efforts of Cathy Newman and Channel 4 to uncover the truth.  Not only did the Channel 4 team reveal the truth of a festering scandal in the C/E but the same high-quality journalism has continued in the aftermath.  Cathy has interviewed several of the key players in the drama, Smyth’s son and the Report author, Keith Makin.  It is good to see and hear Makin for the first time, when for so long his name has been merely the title of an invisible and much awaited report.

In this blog post I want to turn my attention away from information in the Report but start by first mentioning a commentary section that most readers will probably not read, the psychological assessment of Smyth by Dr Elly Hanson, in the appendix.  In this sub-report we are offered insights into the psychology of Smyth and what his actions suggest by way of a psychological/psychoanalytical profile.  I do not propose to repeat her comments, but to observe that much of what she draws out of her assessment focuses on narcissism and the Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD).  What struck me was that the word ‘narcissist’ was also the word that PJ Smyth, Smyth’s son, chose as the one to sum up his father’s personality at the conclusion of his very revealing interview with Cathy Newman. 

Long-term readers of this blog will know that I have frequently been drawn to the notion of narcissism as a key concept for the understanding of power abuse in the Church.   Confusingly, the word has acquired different meanings and usages in popular discourse. Sometimes it is used in a debate or discussion without the parties taking the trouble to find out what the other side means by the word.  I found myself first using the word in the context of religious or cultic groups, having read the work of Len Oakes, an Australian scholar.  He illuminated a link between narcissism and the personalities of many charismatic leaders.  The scholars that Oakes was reading were the generation who struggled to give the word meaning in the context of clinical practice rather than as a description of modern culture.  Otto Kernberg and Heinz Kohut, the pioneer clinicians to discuss the meaning of narcissism, were formulating their classic definitions and theories in the 70s.  Their ideas gained sufficient acceptance within the psychoanalytic profession to appear in the 1980 version of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) III.  The discussions about what constitutes narcissism have, of course, been refined since 1980 but many, if not most, of the classic signs of NPD have survived intact into DSM-V, currently the authoritative statement used by the psychoanalytic profession. 

The question of what precisely PJ Smyth meant when describing his father as a ‘grand narcissist’ does not matter at one level.  The word is one that always needs to be defined in any discussion lest it become a source of misunderstanding and confusion.  I use the word often but take care that the person I am speaking to knows how I am using it.   The important and interesting fact is that PJ used the word and we may find that, as we try to unpack the term, we obtain fresh insights into John Smyth and his extraordinarily evil behaviour.  Our examination of the word may also provide a key to understanding the corrupt dysfunctional behaviour of other religious leaders.

The definitions given in DSM III -V do not represent the final word on narcissism but they do offer us a series of traits found in the one who is defined as being afflicted with NPD.  The nine traits mentioned by the different editions of the DSM all seem to focus, directly or indirectly, on a relentless and pathological struggle for power and desire for control.  These are thought by the sufferer to be the keys able to satisfy a constant but unsatisfied craving for importance and self-esteem.  This reflects my own personal amateur attempts to understand the NPD literature which is summarised for us by the descriptions in DSM.  While experts might vary in the way they describe NPD, my remarks here are my attempt to make sense of the dense language of the pioneering clinicians like Kohut and Kernberg.  The DSM traits seem to indicate that the NPD sufferer is like a starving man.  His (typically a he/him) starvation, or voracious appetite, is so that he will be loved and admired.  For whatever reason, the narcissist is the one who has been let down or even betrayed in the process of growing up. He is one who has been wounded in childhood and now strives, using all his power and resources, whether social or psychological, to extract from others the respect and adoration that was, for some reason, unavailable to him while growing up.

It goes without saying that not every sufferer of NPD will have the giftedness and sheer power of personality to be able to attract and manipulate others in ways shown to us by Smyth (and Donald Trump).  Others remain crushed and defeated by their failure to be admired and loved – a gift given to most children by their parents.  The individuals who have the inner contentment that comes through ‘good-enough’ parenting, do not need to manipulate or control others.  That is the obsessive concern of the true narcissist.  The sufferer of NPD, the one who also has the force of personality to get their own way in pursuit of their addiction to importance and grandiosity, is hard to live with.  If they oversee an organisation, they will be difficult or impossible to challenge.  Everyone walks on eggshells, terrified of provoking what is called narcissistic rage.  Some or all of the nine traits of NPD as listed in the DSM can be identified in any bullying individual who uses the power of his personality to bludgeon or manipulate others into a place of control.  While they are ‘lording’ it over others, in a way that contradicts Jesus’s injunctions about the use of power by his followers, the insatiable appetite for power and dominance is being temporarily gratified.

Narcissistic dynamics do not just involve individuals and their esteem addictions.  They are also to be observed in political and religious structures.  Many commentators have spoken about the toxic narcissism of Donald Trump and the way that he has used the Republican party and his mesmeric gifts of dominance to obtain a position of power never achieved since the fascist dictators of the 30s.  It would of course be wrong to describe the Church of England as a narcissistic organisation, but it does provide extensive opportunities for narcissists to flourish within its ranks, and particularly in its hierarchy.  Words like ‘grandiosity’ ‘messianic’ and ‘high-status’ are all found in the descriptions of NPD and these characteristics are all obvious when we look at the pursuit of dominance seen in John Smyth and many others who have misused institutional authority.  Repeatedly we note the way that hierarchs, individuals within the structural Church, have chosen to support the organisation that gives them their status rather than listen to their personal consciences.   Only a few nights ago, Tuesday 26^th ,  did we hear once again how five bishops ignored the pleas of Matt Ineson about his abuse by a priest.  One wonders whether it was the relationship to the structure that inhibited their actions and whether things would have been different if they had had only to respond to their consciences.

Returning to the comment and description by PJ  Smyth of his father as a ‘total narcissist’, we are able to see how the word does sum up many of the aspects of behaviour of this notable malefactor.  In using this one word we touch on not only the evil perpetrated by a single individual, but a further uncomfortable reality.  This sees that it is not only individuals who are narcissists or sufferers of NPD, but organisations, such as the Church of England, are prone to incubate such behaviour.  Bishops, clergy, church administrators and lawyers, some of whom are being scrutinised currently for their historic failure to act over the abuses, are unlikely to be solitary narcissists.  They are better described as institutional narcissists – those who use the opportunities given to them by their position within a hierarchy, to indulge their taste and need for self-importance and power.

Once again, I am returning  to a theme which I have discussed many times because I believe it to be of such importance.  We need to embody in attitude and action the words of Jesus, ‘I am among you as one who serveth’.  In a serving church, narcissism stands out like the monstrous carbuncle that it is.  ‘Forgetting’ to act on a disclosure of abuse comes to be revealed as a narcissistic self-promoting action.  Acting and not acting as a way of gaining power and gratification, either for ourselves or the organisation we work for, will often result in terrible evil and injustice.  Smyth was a toxic narcissist, both as an individual but also as part of the various Christian tribes which gave him authority, even permission, to become the monster that he was. Institutions that fail to understand the nature of the power they have, can allow that same power to fester and become something truly dangerous and a cause of harm.