Many ordinary citizens in this country probably let out a sigh of relief when the news broke that the leader of Hungary, Victor Orban, had been defeated decisively in his country’s general election some days ago.  I cannot claim to be a close follower of the political story of Hungary, but the little I have gathered about the right-wing, even fascist, control of that society by Orban, meant that I was able to see that things could perhaps now change for the better in the whole of Europe.  All of us who passionately long for a just and peaceful outcome to the Ukrainian conflict, will pray that the European community will be able to increase their military and economic support for that beleaguered country.  This is perhaps easier now that Orban, a steadfast Putin ally, is no longer around to obstruct their efforts.

One of the features of contemporary politics is the way that right-wing, even fascist, regimes often seem to claim adherence to a faux set of Christian beliefs and values.  We find a colluding between members of our own home-grown ultra-right party, Reform, and Christian nationalist ideas.  Christian nationalism, with its strong attachment to flags and marches has become a significant political force in this country.  Most of us, who do not support a version of the Christian faith imbued with such crude nationalism, simplistic versions of history together with a fondness for ideologies of discrimination and hate, find this link deeply disturbing.   But such ultra-right ideas resonate with many people, Christian or not, because somehow, they satisfy a basic human instinct to feel powerful and important.  Those who join such right-wing groups see the opportunity to become part of something bigger than themselves.  Listening to slogans and simplistic notions of good and evil, the right-wing acolyte is attracted to a crowd energy which is new and exciting.  By becoming part of it, the follower is buoyed up to be a somebody; they are raised up above the humdrum sensation of being utterly insignificant and ordinary to become part of a new and successful elite.

The insights I may have about the attractiveness of right-wing fascist thinking were first formed by living in Greece for ten months in the Sixties, under the totalitarian rule of the Colonels’ regime.  Most people have now forgotten the horrors and cruelties of this group of middle-ranking soldiers who took over the running of their country for a full seven years.  The dimension that shocked and fascinated me at the same time, was the appeal to Christianity to boost the ultra-right ideology that these rulers imposed on their country.  They found a pliant group within Orthodoxy and persuaded them to support them.  Together, the government and this Christian group, known as Zoe, created a pseudo-religious Christian veneer to justify their political activity against the ‘communists’ who opposed them.  The word communist could then be stretched to describe anybody who did not follow the regime’s ideas.  The British government of the day, a Labour administration under Harold Wilson, was certainly to be characterised in this way, particularly as he was outspoken in the face of the physical torture being used on many political prisoners languishing in camps on islands. 

This blog is not intended to be an account of fascist right-wing regimes, but I want to remind my readers of the way that extreme politics, as seen in Hungary, Greece and large sections of the Republican party in the States, wants to use Christianity for their own political purposes.  There is a simple three-word slogan which describes both the ultra- right-wing politics and expression of the Christian faith found in these conservative settings.  The slogan declares quite simply that Might is Right.  This bald statement expresses an ideology, whether in a political or religious setting, that deals with certainties and an authoritative version of truth.  It is the task of the leaders, political or faith-based, to enforce that ‘truth’ with whatever means are available.  Backed up with the forces of might, the dominant proponents of truth seek to impose their ideology on an entire society, or the parts of it who have surrendered to the leadership of the group with the most power.  When only a single version of truth in any area of knowledge, religious, political or scientific, is tolerated, we find ourselves living in a society which is marked by sterility and a failure to thrive.  Conformity and passivity are rewarded, and independence of thought and questioning are severely punished.  I need not go back very far in history to be able to offer examples of sterility and cruelty contained in what we can describe as fascist thinking.  To assume that any individual, any party or ideology can be irrefutably correct all the time is the stuff of fantasy thinking.  Those of us who do not live in this ideological fantasy world know that truth is rarely attained in a pure form.  The best that can be achieved is a theory that works as long as it does until a better theory comes along and cause us to rethink our assumptions.  It is claimed that science works because those at the edge of research are constantly seeking to refine their theories by trying to prove them wrong.  Truth in every discipline is attained only by a constant questioning and putting current theories to the test.  This is somewhat different to an image of finding truth and then retreating behind castle walls to defend it from questioners and doubters.

There are two things that unite right-wing politics and conservative theologies.  One is the assumption that those in charge, and they alone, have the truth.  The second thing they share is the belief that their ownership of this truth gives them the right to forcefully act in opposition against those who take a different view.  The holders of ‘truth’ always have the duty to persecute the ‘heretic’, the one who does not agree or who thinks independently. Paradoxically, such a claim to own the truth in this way is found to be something attractive and appealing to many.  When the Christian leader/pastor makes such claims for his or her preaching the Word, in a way that nothing can be questioned or discussed, we enter an environment which is fascist in style.  We come to a question that asks whether we should ever expect our faith to have a resemblance to a totalitarian system that seeks to control and dominate in the pursuit of one version of truth.  This dominant truth is one beyond discussion or any kind of questioning.  All that I have written so far will indicate which side I take in such a debate.   I am a passionate believer in allowing truth to be discovered and explored in an attitude of tentative humility.  When someone appears who wants to articulate their truth in a somewhat different way, I would want to listen and understand what they are saying rather than assume that one of us is right and the other wrong.  Dialogue and discussion may open new dimensions of truth to both sides, if all are prepared to explore truth in this way.  The problem is that the fascist mentality does not allow this kind of approach.  It demands acquiescence in the diktat of the leader and so there is never room for exploring an approach to truth which wants to explore a quite different approach.

Authoritative answers, whether in religion or politics, are comforting in their claims.  At one sweep we are relieved of the pain of uncertainty and allowed to enjoy the reassurance of being ‘right’ because our side in the argument has the ‘might’.  There are churches who possess much in the way of institutional power and wealth and, because of this, they want to dominate and control other churches.  Such misuse of power among Christians may resonate with many people.  They believe it is somehow ‘biblical’ and it is preserving truth.  The reality, as we have tried to suggest in this blog is that the path to real truth is being shut down.   Truth is something towards which we travel while never fully possessing it in our human lifetime.  Our journeying and our hope that the destination we have glimpsed is the right one is what keeps us on the Christian path and in a state of permanent expectancy.  In the words of St Augustine, You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.

It is hard to keep tabs on episcopal vacancies in the Church of England at present.  By my calculation there are nine diocesan episcopal posts that are vacant or to become vacant by the summer.  Two further diocesan posts are in temporary abeyance (Lincoln and Salisbury) while the current incumbents await the result of disciplinary enquiries that are being undertaken.  That would possibly bring the total number of diocesan vacancies to 11.  This total means that around 25% of the senior episcopal posts in England are currently in or about to enter a temporary vacancy.  Fortunately, for the smooth running of the Church of England, there are enough suffragan and retired bishops around to provide temporary cover so that episcopal leadership for all 42 dioceses is preserved for the foreseeable future.

The appointment of diocesan bishops in England is, by all accounts, a complex and painstaking operation.  There has always to be, before names are considered, a statement of needs prepared by the receiving diocese.  A group of carefully chosen and highly qualified individuals are brought together to form a Vacancy in See Committee. This group will meet and share their thoughts on those who are thought to be suitably qualified individuals.  Confidential lists of suitable candidates are already in existence and those who become diocesan bishops have probably been on such a list of potential nominees for some time.  The political sensitivities within the Church of England require the Committee to understand fully the importance of a cultural and theological fit.  A diocese such as Chichester (to be vacant in June ‘26) would expect to receive a leader with Anglo-Catholic leanings while the new Bishop of London will need to have skills able to operate sensitively across a wide range of church traditions.   This churchmanship match-up might once have been a major part of what was required for a successful diocesan bishop.  Now this aspect of a candidate probably takes its place alongside all the other pressing skills and abilities needed to cope with the chronic complexity of the role.  Against the background of a severe decline in finance and members in most dioceses, no candidate will be able to offer everything that might be desired from him or her. These expectations have become so numerous that I suspect every nominee will be seen not to achieve the ideal or even required level of excellence in some areas.  The candidate that is eventually chosen will probably have to be a compromise choice.  There are simply not enough experienced candidates to match all the expectations laid on them.  The Vacancy in See Committee do not have the opportunity to choose the ‘Archangel Gabriel candidate’.   Were such a person to exist, the whole process might be considerably less stressful.

I will have more to say about why the pool of candidates for diocesan bishops is not strong currently, but I think it is important to consider from the outside what might be the qualities needed for this post if we were able to design from scratch the ideal candidate.  The qualities I want to suggest as essential for a diocesan bishop can be summarised in three words. The bishop needs to operate well as pastor, leader and teacher.  This first quality that I mention here is the quality of an individual who knows how to care for others, especially the clergy of the diocese.  The clergy are entrusted to be pastors and to care for their parishioners on behalf of the bishop.  In my own ministry I can only remember two bishops who seemed to care and be genuinely interested in my own ministry and welfare.   This is not the time to go into further reminiscing on this point, but I would like to suggest that a bishop should know far more about the individual clergy under his/her charge than just as names in a file.   Fortunately, I have normally been able to find other clergy who would provide oversight and encouragement, but it was not something that came routinely from my bishops.  With the declining number of front-line clergy to care for, this role for bishops might reasonably be expected to come into greater focus. 

The second role of a bishop in a diocesan role is to provide leadership, especially in the form of inspiration and direction for the institution.  The bishop pastor is the one who guides the work and morale of individuals who work for the institution while the bishop leader fulfils a management role in equipping and inspiring the whole.  I would want my leader to have gifts of exceptional sensitivity and wisdom.  I want them to be the people who can guide and motivate committees so that the right decisions are taken.  A good chairperson, as I expect my bishop to be, will read the room with unerring accuracy so that the insights of all present will be heard and taken into account.  Above all, and true to the theme of this blog, I want my bishop to be supremely sensitised to the dynamics of power, including his/her own.

The final quality that I have chosen to emphasise (there are many others – no doubt) is that the bishop to be a teacher/theologian.  Sadly, this last capacity is becoming a rare quality.  Clergy who read books seem to be in minority and those who become bishops may not have this important ability to inspire a passion for godly leaning among clergy and laity.  My ideal bishop candidate will have this capacity to get people excited about God in terms of spirituality, study and prayer.  Needless to say, I have watched, with regret, the short-cuts in theological training that have been brought about for financial reasons.  Perhaps a new generation of bishops can inspire their clergy to give more time to study and the nurture of a mind that is constantly seeking new ways to understand more of the mystery of God.

To return to the appointing of nine (possibly more) men and women over the next 18 months to take episcopal roles of a highly complex and demanding nature, the Church of England authorities know they have a very difficult job.  Most, if not all, of the next generation of diocesan bishops will be suffragans already and so the pond from which to fish is finite in size.  One unsettling question, for which we have no answer, is whether the job of diocesan bishop has become so demanding, if not impossible, that a new generation of younger clergy will refuse to submit themselves to a post that they suspect will grind them down to the point of exhaustion and burn-out.   One ominous piece of information was shared with us about the difficulty of making senior appointments in the Church of England.  In the course of last year, the then leading candidate for the Bishop of Durham who had already gone through several stages in the appointment process, withdrew his/her name at quite a late stage.  The Church cannot easily survive the departure of such highly qualified candidates.  If ever the Church were to find itself in the desperate position of having to appoint candidates who are clearly not up to the job, the seeds of institutional collapse are at hand.  It is also a serious blow to clerical self-esteem and institutional morale when office holders at the level of diocesan bishop are required to step back and take paid leave.  We still have not as an institution recovered from the appalling reputational hit when a diocesan bishop was tried and sent to prison for his sexual crimes. 

One major area of concern which applies to bishops and clergy is whether they are up to coping with stress.  Every member of the clergy has some insight into severe stresses of managing personnel, finance and safeguarding that come their way.  The same stresses, much magnified, are faced by our bishops.   The present cohort of suffragans will know about the impossible demands and conflicts handed to those who preside over complete dioceses.  To take but one area of stress:  how does a diocesan bishop manage when he/she knows that a parish for which he/she has responsibility has a grossly inadequate incumbent in charge?  How does the bishop make a decision and decide whether to allow a toxic clergyperson to take charge of a church, when it is possible/probable that that this charge will be badly mismanaged?  Knowing where safeguarding bodies are buried must be a constant source of stress, even anguish.  While a suffragan remains a suffragan, there is always the diocesan to refer to and, hopefully, sort out the problem.  As a diocesan bishop the buck stops at the study door.  The damage caused by making the wrong decision really matters.  Peoples’ lives and wellbeing are affected.  No one with a conscience wants to be responsible to helping to destroy or damage the life of another or undermine an institution as precious as the Church of Christ.

I end this reflection about bishops in the C/E with questions.  The first is to ask whether the episcopal task is too onerous and stressful to be accomplished successfully today?  The second question is related to the first.  Given the new complexities that surround anyone who operates in a public role, demanding a range of skills probably not possessed by a single individual, is it fair to place anyone in this role without re-writing their terms of contract?  I don’t know the answer to these questions, but I believe that they need to be faced by clergy and lay people at every level of the Church.

 I was having a conversation recently with a supporter of the blog about the meaning of the word safeguarding.   In my response to something she had said, I had simply used the expression ‘power abuse’.  As far as I could see, the expression safeguarding almost always involved a situation where an individual or an institution was being held to account for an act potentially involving the harmful exercise of power.  Safeguarding is the act of protecting the vulnerable against the malign intentions of the strong.  Protecting the vulnerable is a serious business and when we use the term, we should always recognise that something potentially evil is being addressed.  Unfortunately, using the word safeguarding often fails to communicate the seriousness the word deserves.  Somewhere along the line, its use to describe the numerous courses laid on to train church members from congregants to bishops has removed the urgency from its meaning.  It has become an idea that for church people has frequently become rather ‘fluffy’.  It has been detached from the horror that is implied when vulnerable people are not protected and kept safe.  As part of the conversation I was having, I suggested that we might try and do without the word safeguarding, particularly if, by using it, we sanitise and remove the horror of what may be implied by the word. 

Archbishop Sarah, in her presidential address to General Synod in February, lifted my spirits initially when she spoke about power abuse at the start of what she had to say on the theme of safeguarding.   Was she going to say more about safeguarding being rooted in the setting of power abuse or were we going to hear the same somewhat tired cliches about putting survivors and victims at the centre of everything that the Church is doing in this area?  Sadly, Sarah, writing this part of her address that seemed to promise so much, then reached for the cut and paste button on her computer, and we were offered the same stale food of promises and unfulfilled statements about justice and support for survivors.  The promise of a clear-eyed vision and understanding that safeguarding is in the last resort all about the misuse and abuse of power from the top to the bottom of the church structure was not grasped.  Safeguarding was once more to become the overworked word to be used by the Church to suggest that we now have the structures and the understanding to put an end to criminal behaviour and sexual exploitation of the vulnerable within the institution.  The insight that many observers now have is that abuse of power is a perennial problem for every church.  Power is abused not only in acts of sexual deviance but every time a member of the church bullies or obtains gratification from humiliating or dominating someone else.  Obviously sexual abuse is at the extreme end of abusive behaviour we are describing, but there are many other examples of abuse in the life of the church that need to be named and outlawed if we are ever to have a church that is truly safe.  The problem for the church is that we have tolerated for so long dominating, controlling and coercive behaviour that we have learned to overlook behaviour that is sometimes cruel, life destroying and discriminatory.  Safeguarding, in the sense of protecting people from sexual exploitation, is only one small part of the wider reality of power abuse that some church members often face. 

In having this conversation, I was realising that my own book, Ungodly Fear, published 25 years ago as a study on the abuse of power in the church, did not use the word safeguarding once.  The word was not then in common use as a convenient shorthand for the power and sexual abuse issues that we see in the church.   My insight then, when writing the book, was a very simple one.  The Church, especially in the conservative evangelical house-church manifestations that I was focusing on, has a problem with power.  If an individual or an institution is given power over others, then there is always the possibility, indeed probability, that this power will, at some point, be abused.  Independent congregations, led by charismatic narcissistic leaders, are those in the greatest danger of seeing their congregants abused financially or sexually.  Church bodies that preserve systems and protocols of oversight and mentoring may have fewer episodes of criminal abuse, but they still face issues of dealing with power.  The abuse of power in a church setting may take a number of forms.  I described in the book power abuse being manifested in financial exploitation, sexual failings, persecution and the ostracism of disapproved minorities.  There was also the appeal to the demon world to justify behaviour which would be unacceptable to most Christians.  It is my contention that whenever power is abused, not just criminal sexual abuse, it should be scrutinised and, if necessary, outlawed from the Church.  Keeping church members safe does not come merely by protecting the vulnerable from sexual predation.  It should include protection from any kind of abusive power being exercised over them.  We do not always want to recognise these situations of oppression where the strong exercise their power over the weak.  Perhaps the horrors of the past in terms of what has be done to the innocent by godly men (mainly) has desensitised us to this kind of damaging behaviour.  I do not believe it to be an exaggeration to suggest that every form of power abuse in the church is toxic and ultimately destructive.

I am putting forward the idea that the recent arrival of the safeguarding industry into the Church as response to the horrors of abuse has not made everyone safe.  Officially safeguarding is about protecting everyone.  Caring for the young and vulnerable seems to be a worthy activity that can be expected to achieve agreement without argument.  But I am contending for the idea that the use of this word has too easily made everyone feel reassured and comfortable. If, however, we were to lose the word safeguarding and replace its use, when appropriate, with the words power abuse, we change the perception of what is involved instantly.  Safeguarding/power abuse is a matter that demands our immediate attention because we hear in the words something of great seriousness, something that should be responded to instantly.  The task of safeguarding when we take it seriously is not to make us have warm, maybe, patronising feelings for the vulnerable but a deliberate decision to identify vigorously places where power is being corrupted in a way that makes the institution and the people within unsafe.

The exercise of power in the Church is always going to be an activity involving risk.  By saying this I do not mean to suggest that there is no place for authority in an institution like the church.  We need to have ways of determining what are the best ways forward and the decisions to be taken to enable an organisation like a church to flourish.   Gifts of leadership and management are vital for the church.  Simultaneously we need to be far more sensitive to the way that power acting out in a negative way is a constant risk factor in any institution.  Abuse of power, as we have seen, may involve criminal behaviour such as the sexual abuse of a minor.  But any act which has as its aim the gratification of narcissism or self-importance in a leader can easily become abusive.  The problem that often arises is a culture of ‘you scratch my back’ is that there is a corporate agreement to protect bad behaviour.  In this kind of culture those who are not part of a favoured ‘in-crowd’, can find life extremely tough.  Hierarchical churches, whether Anglican, Catholic or independent all have ways of feeding the almost universal desire for power and importance.  People use status and position to boost their self-esteem and maybe compensate for neglect from parents when children.  Such hankering after power blights the smooth running of any organisation.  Sometimes the pursuit of power is not about acquiring importance but rather as a way to avoid the opposite experience, the inherited blight of shame.  This may have been planted within the personality at a very early age by parents or contemporaries.  Warding off the demons of shame, weakness and humiliation in a lifetime of maladaptive growing up may provide a powerful motivation towards behaviour of this kind.

The word safeguarding is, we would suggest, a word that reveals almost nothing of its inner meaning and content.  It sounds neutral and formal while the reality of what it points to is often that of exploitation and abuse of power.  It would be so much more salutary as well as honest if the word safeguarding was routinely replaced with a brief two-word alternative, such as power abuse or institutional bullying.  The Church of England as an institution has, according to numerous abuse survivors, lamentably failed to meet their needs, in terms of pastoral care, compensation and justice.  By refusing to name accurately what has been going on in the abusive episodes it is asked to respond to, the church safeguarding authorities blunt any proper acknowledgement of what has really happened.   How much better it would be if Diocesan Safeguarding Officers were called something that reflected the harsh reality of what they sometimes meet?  A better descriptor might be abuse supporter or in bullying situations, a conflict mediator.  Whatever title is found to be most suitable, it would have to be one that picked up in the title something of the pain, devastation and shame that is so often found in a safeguarding situation. 

The word safeguarding is, as far as I can see, at best a problematic word for many people in the Church.  On the one hand it blunts the horror of power abuse that is often found in institutions like the Church.  On the other hand it casts a miasma of suspicion over everyone in the Church if they have in any way failed to have their training and accreditation brought right up to date.  Perhaps the time has come where we try to manage to have safety in the Church without using the over-used word.  I for one would prefer to have it that way.