For some reason, the fictional character of Violet Elizabeth Bott has inserted herself into my mind when I was considering the state of power dynamics within some parishes in Britain.  For those who have not been reared on the antics of the William books by Richmal Crompton, from the 40s and 50s, Violet was a subsidiary character who was kept firmly on the outside of the boy-only group of William Brown and his friends.  Although Violet was usually excluded from the male activities of the boy gang, she did possess one weapon which allowed her a small part in some of the escapades.  She had a mantra which she was able to use every time she sought inclusion into the male world.  She threatened the boys with the memorable words ‘I will scream and scream till I am sick. I can.’  The threat of being forced to listen to her screams produced a small amount of compromise on the part of the boys, but I cannot remember how this worked in practice as I no longer have any of these books.  No doubt an adult reading Violet’s words might well comment that this was the action of a woman without power trying to take power for herself when being denied any part in the world dominated by the boys. 

From thinking about Violet, I went on to recognise that there is another example of powerlessness using screaming in order to get noticed.  The classic supermarket tantrum is an experience that most parents have had to negotiate when their child is around 3 years of age and is wheeled round the local Sainsburys.  Watching his or her mother removing highly coloured packets and place them in a trolley is an action that looks rather fun, especially when the child sees that there are also aisles full of sweets and biscuits.    The classic supermarket tantrum begins when the child is wheeled quickly past the biscuit aisle without stopping and the small person makes their protest.  The battle that begins at this point is not only between the child and his/her mother, but it also rages inside the mother’s head.  Should she turn back and include the desired item, thus pacifying the child?  Alternatively, should she explain to the child how there are limits to the objects taken that form part of the weekly shop?

Supermarket tantrums and Violet’s attempted manipulations are both examples of attempts to exercise control by the use of emotion.  Sometimes the emotion is gentle or understated, like a smile aimed at persuading someone to agree with us in a meeting.  On other occasions the emotion demonstrated is disturbing or excessive, as in an outburst of anger or tears.   But, in each case, there is a fundamental common factor.   The expression of emotion is intended to make another person act in a particular way.  A smile may be a means of persuading us that being part of a majority view is much more comfortable than being on the outside.  Taking the opposite point of view to a leader who is skilled at emotional manipulation is, by contrast, highly awkward and uncomfortable.  Making a principled stand against a proposal in a meeting is far more difficult to follow through when we are expecting that the proposer will display a strong emotional reaction.  The sheer power of that reaction can be deeply traumatising as well as creating an atmosphere of real fear. Violet’s screams or the toddler’s meltdown in the supermarket are small fry compared with a key committee member not getting his/her own way.  Sometimes merely the threat of an emotional outburst is able to bring a disagreeing party to heel.  Even those not party to the divided decision can feel deeply shocked and wounded by the outburst.

There is nothing unusual in seeing strong emotions erupt in organisational life.  In most cases tempers and passions subside and peace is found through some sort of compromise.  The problem arises when an individual, possibly a leader or someone else in some sort of authority, becomes adept at the skills needed to manipulate and control a meeting or an entire organisation through the skilful use of what we are describing as ‘tantrum power’.  On the surface everything seems smooth but there is in the dynamic of the meeting a subtle threat that if things do not go in a certain way, there will be an emotional outburst of some kind.  Everyone wants to avoid a distressing ‘scene’ which is why tantrum power is so effective in an organisation.  It may be the Vicar who tells his PCC that no one is allowed to follow any path but the one he/she suggests.  To challenge his/her power will unleash anger on a massive scale.  Power, in other words, is being exercised by emotional blackmail and the threat of violent, even terrifying, volcanic eruptions.  If the congregation gets used to submitting to the threat of violent or frightening outbursts on the part of the one in charge, there will always be a miasma of genuine fear in that congregation.  This will stifle growth and real flourishing.  When the dynamic of surrender to the one who exercises tantrum power becomes stabilised, and an authoritarian peace is allowed to prevail in that congregation, things may appear to be peaceful and calm.  It may be difficult for an archdeacon or a bishop to get the measure of the true dynamics of that particular church as free exchange of opinion and the possibility of new ideas being explored have ceased to take place.  Everyone has got used to the faux stability of a church that follows a volatile narcissist in charge who cannot tolerate anyone else having ideas or opinions.

Over the years I have become privy to unfortunate dynamics in a number of parishes and congregations.  Many of them are victims of what I have described as tantrum power, the threat of unleashing fear-inducing outbursts by someone in the church.  It is of course not only vicars who exercise such power.  Prominent laypeople can hold entire congregations under their control by the same implied threat of violent outbursts of destructive anger.  Organists can be the centre of tantrum power, as can a churchwarden or Reader.  In a recent case of an unhappy congregation who were subject to the authoritarian whims of a Vicar and churchwarden, the fear miasma spread beyond the church itself.  Attempts by the local archdeacon to get the measure of the congregational unhappiness were stalled by the ability of the church leaders to intimidate these visiting senior clergy, by making it clear that those officially holding oversight had no power to change the dynamic of their church.  The semi-autonomous role of a Vicar has, in the last resort, a great deal of power to intimidate archdeacons and even bishops who try to intervene in parish disputes.  Many simply give up the struggle.  Tantrum power seems to win the day, and congregations are left to their long-lasting disruption and unhappiness.  The lay people in this case had researched the possibility of bringing in the police to intervene but having a fierce temper and the ability to spread slander is not against the law of the country.

Tantrum power, or emotional manipulation within a church congregation is a real cause of unhappiness in many places.  It also exists within families, committees and organisations of every kind.  Quite often it exists as a threat rather than as an actuality.  It is however something that needs to be identified and named so that it can be dealt with.  My experience of the Church of England suggests that far too many individuals live in a situation of genuine fear of emotional outbursts from some of the individuals they work with.  Unlike the business world where relationships are defined and there is normally a clear code of behaviour being enforced by HR officials, the Church has less ability to ensure that members behave in a consistently correct manner.  Without an enforceable code of conduct which can be policed, there are many situations in church life where things can go badly wrong.  At present, access to a just hearing when something goes badly awry, is a hit and miss affair and depends almost entirely on the diocese you happen to find yourself in.  Some dioceses have excellent fearless archdeacons and employ professional safeguarding personnel who take a pride in delivering a first-class service.  Other dioceses have safeguarding officials who need to be important and enjoy the trappings of authority and power.  Those who cross their path may be further humiliated and pushed down, finding their dignity battered and almost destroyed.

Safeguarding in the Church should be about making sure that power at every level is used responsibly and aimed at creating healthy flourishing spiritual institutions.  Protecting the weak and the vulnerable is only one part of the work.  A further task is to understand and critique the power structures of the church.  The power I have been discussing in this blog is different from most of the other forms which are built into the structure of the institution.  I have invited my reader to be alert to invisible power that exists in emotional manipulation, what I call tantrum power.  Tantrum power has the potential for harm in the Church as much as many other forms.  Its very invisibility makes it perhaps the most dangerous.

The Clergy Discipline Measure (CDM) of the Church of England was in action this month, examining the past actions of two senior Anglican clergy.  These were the investigations and findings in the cases of Canon Andrew Cornes and Bishop Paul Butler.  In the case of Paul Butler, there has been an admission of misconduct, though we have not so far been provided with the details of the complaint against him.  Without access to new information, my reactions to his case, if any, will have to be held back for a future occasion. The Cornes judgement has been in the public domain for a week or two and was delivered after an examination of an alleged failure on his part back in 1982.  The complaint against him was in relation to a case of serious professional neglect. This involved his failure to take appropriate action after having information disclosed to him about the behaviour of the notorious abuser, John Smyth.  Cornes was then a curate at the important London parish of All Souls Langham Place.  He had always been part of the Iwerne network but was never a major player. In his book on the Iwerne network, Bleeding for Jesus, Andrew Graystone only mentions Cornes once. Nevertheless, in Makin’s account, Cornes’ lapse was found to be a significant one.  Having received this first-hand information about Smyth’s behaviour from one of his victims, Cornes then failed to take any appropriate action.  He believed that the information he had received was being handled by someone else.  We could describe Cornes’ behaviour, at the very least, as neglectful of the responsibility required of a priest to care for a vulnerable person.  In his defence it was argued that modern safeguarding priorities, structures and concerns were not in operation 44 years ago.  For this reason, it was argued, Cornes, in his early 30s, could not have been expected to report to anyone the information shared with him by the Smyth victim.  The disciplinary tribunal considered this defence but concluded that his professional obligation to care for those who revealed such a disclosure, would have required him to act on this information, thus helping to protect other potential victims from harm.  While he may have shared something of what he knew, these efforts were not followed up.  This neglect allowed the abuse to continue.

I do not know Cornes and our paths have never crossed.  I do however feel a connection with him and his story, since he is only a few years younger than me and the reported events took place in 1982, at a time when I was finding my clerical feet as a young incumbent near Hereford.  Cornes’ clerical professional path has followed a very different pattern to mine and his career has been one of some distinction.   I had begun an independent role as an incumbent in 1979.  This followed two curacies in the Canterbury diocese and a self-funded time of research for two years.  Attaining this post of sole responsibility brought me to a place of cherished freedom and independence, with the opportunity to create something new.   Cornes’ professional trajectory went in a very different direction.  Instead of moving from a team situation to one where he had sole charge, Cornes opted, after his first curacy, to serve a nine year second curacy at the high profile conservative evangelical parish of All Souls Langham Place.  This is one of the London parishes which employ numerous curates.  This pattern of employing a dozen or more clergy creates a very different parochial model to the traditional one.  Within this system, ambitious conservative clergy are given the opportunity to polish their theological and preaching credentials so that they come to the notice of the ‘right’ people, those who employ patronage power within the conservative network. The movers and shakers within that world would see you and eventually you would come to occupy one of the ‘plum’ livings around the country that identify with the All Souls/St Ebbes Oxford style of Evangelicalism.  The churches of this ilk, typically in university cities, are deeply involved with the ministry to students.  The Christian Union network looks to this powerful cluster of churches right across the country to cooperate with its efforts of evangelism.  Working with these churches, there is an active pattern of study groups, prayer teams and numerous other activities that make membership a demanding commitment. 

The tribunal declared that Cornes’ failure to report about Smyth’s behaviour made him guilty of a serious lapse of professional behaviour, even judging the episode by the standards of 1982.  This was long before safeguarding was a ‘thing’ in the Church.  I do not intend to repeat all the arguments that led up to this judgement, apart from noting that they seem eminently reasonable.  Having lived through the period of the early 80s as an incumbent I have tried to think what I would have done faced with the same situation as Cornes.  I believe that in 1982, also in my 30s, and three years into my first incumbency I would never have attempted to deal with such a disclosure alone.  I would have consulted the oldest and wisest priest in the Deanery (who was acting as an unofficial mentor) and sought his advice.  I suspect that he would have directed me, or come with me, to the Archdeacon or suffragan bishop.  Cornes’ failure to do something similar was, I believe, the result of his training and early ministry having placed him in what was effectively a cultic institution.  There are many similarities between the Iwerne network and a full-blown cult.  Each followed a tightly defined version of Christian  orthodoxy which was set out by controlling leaders.  Iwerne’s potential for good was deeply compromised by the behaviour of Smyth and both the Fletcher brothers.  Certainly, the combined capacity to mediate harm by the three, John Smyth, Jonathan F. and David F. was massive, even though many still claim to be grateful for their teaching and ministry.  Cornes had been, like many other alumni of Iwerne, faithfully following the teaching of his mentors while aspiring to eventual leadership in the network.  At this early stage of his life, he would still have been integrated into the black/white cultic thinking of Bash and his followers.  Control by mentors to ensure correct thinking and beliefs would have been part of the quasi-cultic experience.  Are any of us surprised that an intelligent young Christian leader, under these influences, would have failed to take an independent stand when receiving a disclosure of abuse by a cult leader of such charisma and charm?   Independence of thought, especially over moral issues, was not going to be well developed in a young Iwerne alumnus such as Cornes, even in his early thirties.  My own experience of meeting members of that conservative culture during that period was to find myself encountering, not an individual personal appropriation of the Christian faith, but meeting the confident and fluent belief system of a ‘sound’ adherent.  In the immortal words of Adrian Plass, the young Cornes would likely still have been still turning to a metaphorical leader to discover what ‘we think’.  He would have found it quite hard to reconcile two dissonant realities.  There was on the one side the heroic gospel preacher (Smyth) whose gifts of oratory had inspired and encouraged young men like him over many summer camps.  Then there were reports of the same admired individual committing barbaric actions against dozens of men and boys.  One way to process such unpalatable information was to minimise and supress it.  That is what Cornes seems to have done.

 The second cultic aspect of Iwerne theology and culture that seems to be relevant in this situation is its tribal nature.  I have written about the collective mindset carried over from the English public school system and which finds a home in the Iwerne camps and in certain parts of the Church.  The values of loyalty to the team and not letting the side down were extremely important in all the schools that recruited for Iwerne.  For Cornes, there was likely a strong loyalty to this tribe he had grown up with through school, university Christian Unions, theological college and the All Souls network.  All these encounters had made him an honoured and important member of the evangelical tribe.  In this early stage of his life, he would, we have suggested, still have been operating according to the simplistic codes of thinking and morality taught by Bash and his successors to countless generations of young men of his background.  There would have been strong resistance to doing anything or thinking anything that might have been considered disloyalty to this tribe. In summary we seem to be describing the behaviour of a young man enmeshed into a state of dependency and immaturity by the Iwerne cult.    No doubt the post-cult mature Andrew Cornes eventually appeared, having escaped from the spiritual constrictions of his youth. I am confident that the theological method of Bash, which was to apply a favourite bible quote to deal with every problem, would eventually have been set aside.  Iwerne had never encouraged theological reflection, but the needs of ministry demanded it.

Andrew Cornes is, some would think unfairly, being held to account for what he did not, and perhaps could not, do 44 years ago.  He was, it seems, faced with a moral dilemma which the received theology of Iwerne was unable to resolve.  The wider intellectual and spiritual resources of the Christian faith, I would argue, had been denied him by his narrow restricted cultic Christian education and so he failed to make the right call.  By allowing John Smyth, David Fletcher and his brother Jonathan to act as mentors, those within the Iwerne experience were hardly likely to promote wholesome moral teaching among their hearers. Is it surprising the moral teaching imbibed by Cornes as a young man, was off-centre, to say the least?   The finding of the tribunal against Cornes may be quite simply a judgement, not against him personally, but against what many would see to be a morally compromised version of Christianity.  Even now Conservative Evangelical teaching is being allowed to have enormous power in our universities and other institutions where young people are being taught the faith.  In some respects, the black-white thinking of conservative theology is not just wrong – it is often actually traumatising and dangerous to those who hear it. 

At the end of this tribunal process we have a wounded elderly priest who has, no doubt, given of himself to the Church faithfully and loyally over many years.  I am certain that, with his evident gifts, he has been a blessing to many.   The conclusion of the Tribunal has not made a finding against his personal morality which, no doubt, is excellent.  What it has done is, indirectly, to expose the spiritual dangers of poor Christian teaching given by men (in the conservative tradition) who are seduced by the gratifications of power and influence over others.  The procession of leading conservative men who have now been revealed as corrupt, abusive and self-serving is alarming to any who want the Church to be a force for good in our society.  Andrew Cornes, is not, and never has been, as far as I know one, of those who directly harms others.  He is, or has been, for the reasons we have started to explore, in some sense, himself a victim or survivor of an abusive cultic manifestation of Christianity.   

by Anon

The Odyssey (2026) is an epic action-adventure movie written and directed by Christopher Nolan adapted from Homer’s ancient Greek poem. If you haven’t seen the film, I recommend it. If you haven’t read the book, I also recommend it. The Odyssey consists of 24 books and was written down during in the 7th century BC, so committed to parchment in the same kind of era as much of the Old Testament. Both The Odyssey and the Old Testament existed in oral form for many centuries before this. Both share chequered histories of contested versions, with the same stories adapted for different contexts and cultures. (See Bruce Louden, Greek Myth and the Bible, 2019).

Nolan’s film is widely regarded as an enormous feat as much as it is entertaining. True, purists snipe that the film is not faithful to Homer’s original and takes liberties. That may be so, but it rather misses the point. These stories were epic sagas that were vehicles for moral instruction, cautionary tales, and freighted with warnings about the dangers of hubris, irony biting back, the inevitability of betrayals, and the virtues of faithfulness, patience and perseverance.

But suppose for a moment we see The Odyssey as a vehicle for ecclesial parables? This is neither strange nor original. In Gods of Management (1978), Charles Handy examined managerial and organisational cultures through four ancient deities: Zeus (dominance and monarchy), Apollo (communication and order), Athena (cooperation and practicality), and Dionysus (creativity and individualism). Handy highlighted the tension between organisational imperatives (Zeus and Apollo) and individual imperatives (Athena and Dionysus), which cannot be fully resolved. He argued that treating people as individuals instead of mere resources is crucial.

In typical parish settings, cultures may reflect Athena and Dionysus, but many Protestant ecclesial hierarchies tend to be influenced by Zeus and Apollo. This situation will lead to growing dissonance. When self-identified leaders and their compliant followers stop engaging, what happens? Bishops and senior pastors may hold their titles but lack true power, acting like modern versions of Zeus or Apollo while increasingly being ignored.

Simon Western, in Leadership: A Critical Text (2018), argues that “leaders are authentically transformational… they increase awareness of what is right, good, important, and beautiful.” Western identified three primary forms of leadership discourse in the twentieth century: Controller, Therapist, and Messiah, with a fourth suggested. Controller discourse focuses on efficiency and social management, rooted in early twentieth-century scientific rationalism. In contrast, Therapist discourse emphasises personal growth and well-being.

The latter part of the 20^th century saw the rise of the fourth type of leadership, namely Heroic-Messiah discourse, which promotes charismatic leadership in uncertain environments. This discourse promised order amid chaos and encouraged transformative change by highlighting heroic actions and visionary outcomes, suggesting that progress is essential to achieving success. Western’s book is a seminal study in leadership and offers a relevant critique for our times.

Similarly, Mateusz Grzesiak’s Leadership and Narcissism in the Organization (2022) reveals the rise of messianic discourse in an age of anxiety as institutions face existential threats. While true messiahs are rare, faux messiahs—who elevate themselves above others—have become increasingly common.

The myths of Narcissus, particularly as told by Ovid, provide insights into institutional behaviour. Both Narcissus and Echo illustrate how organisations can become fixated on appearance, echoing only what they hear, and are ultimately ensnared by self-love and inflated self-regard.

Narcissus is alive and well in the Church of England. Its leaders hear that working in teams, strategy, vision, corporate branding or comms are the way to go. Or that something must be done about climate change, or inequality. The leaders only repeat what they last heard.

That said, we note Richard Sennett’s careful reframing of the myth. He argues that in narcissistic disorder one sinks into oneself. And that without meaningful references and valuing of others, no stable character or self-image is ever formed. Sennett writes that

‘…as a character disorder, narcissism is the very opposite of strong self-love. Self-absorption does not produce gratification [but rather] produces injury [italics mine] to the self; erasing the line between the self and other means that nothing new, nothing “other”, ever enters the self; it is devoured and transformed until one thinks one can see oneself in the other – and then it becomes meaningless… The narcissist is not hungry for experiences, [s/he] is hungry for Experience. Looking always for an expression or reflection of [oneself]…one drowns in the self.’ (The Fall of Public Man, New York: Norton, 1992, pp. 324-25).

Sennett argues that narcissism often hinders goal achievement. In corporate narcissism, as with individuals, there is a tendency to avoid closure on measurable outcomes to escape external judgment that could weaken self-esteem. This avoidance is unintentional; those affected engage in repetitive self-referential patterns that prevent stable character development and lead to self-absorption. While others may remain captivated by what these individuals or organisations might do next, ultimately, nothing changes. (Yes, Fresh Expressions fits the bill).

Translating this into ecclesiology, it seems to be a particularly compelling preliminary diagnosis of the Church of England’s safeguarding debacles. Everything goes round and round and round in circles in a kind of endless death-loop. Nothing changes.  Narcissism craves your admiration and devotion, and commands your deference and fealty. But it never wants judgment or accountability. QED the CofE? (QED is from the Latin phrase quod erat demonstrandum, which means “that which was to be demonstrated” or “what was to be shown”).

It doesn’t take a genius to see that the endless cycle of ‘lessons learned reviews’ in Church of England safeguarding belongs to this world. Like Groundhog Day (another version of an ancient Greek myth), the Church of England just repeats the past in the hope that it will eventually get it right. The myth of Tantalus is instructive. So Einstein was right. “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

There is a heuristic pragmatism at work here, but it could also apply to many contemporary Protestant denominations. The Church of England, to compete with modernity, will adorn itself with trendy, secular rhetoric and processes because it thinks it “must look good”. It rarely thinks past this. Furthermore, it seems destined and bound to deliver precisely nothing.

As Sennett would concur, the narcissism is found in the journey and process that never achieves closure. Diagnosing corporate narcissistic personality disorder in the Church of England in an organisation becomes possible when we understand the origin of Narcissus.

Other myths also illustrate the dangers of hubris. Icarus, who flew too close to the sun against his father’s warnings, fell to his death when his wax wings melted. Similarly, Narcissus, obsessed with his own beauty, rejected those who loved him and ultimately died alone, transforming into a flower. Both stories emphasise how hubris can lead to isolation and ruin. These are ecclesial parables.

James Hopewell, the Anglican contextual theologian (Congregation: Stories and Structures, 1987) writes of the Zeus-myth at work in a specifically church-based context as a case of “an arbitrary and dictatorial rule…punish[ing]those who dared to oppose him…a one-man show who got his way…[by] the acquiescence of corporation-minded members…[and ridiculed opponents]”.

For Hopewell, the myth of Zeus serves that purpose, as it narrates the emergence of a supreme ruler from the Titans (the Elder Gods). Zeus dethrones Chronus (in Roman religion, Saturn), the most important god. Zeus has unequalled powers thereafter, but is not omnipotent, omniscient or omnipresent. He can be opposed, deceived and evaded. Zeus nonetheless functions as an arbitrary and dictatorial ruler, and a cypher for the leadership of congregations.

In ecclesial terms, the minister is a ‘one-man show’ with exceptional managerial gifts and can often be a Zeus-like figure. But such leaders also thrive on manipulation and can ridicule opponents with ‘thunderbolts’. Nonetheless, the minister may present as a fine and hospitable pastor, and provided members stay on the right side of this Zeus-like figure, the congregation is likely to be convivial. Hopewell accepts that his characterisation of a church or denomination where Zeus reigns, as

“…not a pretty story, but its very aptness and ugliness might awake its actors both to their plight and to their Christian promise…” (Hopewell, p. 188).

The stories of the gods evolve. Humans can be elevated to godlike status after their deaths, as with Heracles. But in many cases, there is an obvious sense in which one can read the persona and actions of many of the charismatic church leaders featured in this blogsite as befitting a Zeus-like figure. Pilavachi, Brain, Smyth, the Fletchers and others all come to mind. One can compare the eldership gathered around them to other Titans or lesser gods.

What is clear is that the epic accounts of such churches can be more Greek myth and ancient saga than many might suppose.  Furthermore, such ancient narrative plots are easily detectable in other revivalist ministries, with leaders exercising extraordinary powers and holding unmatched authority and powers over their devotees. Indeed, these stories and plots are alive and well in contemporary culture and appear to resonate with everyday life.

Hopewell’s interpretive analysis, rooted in myths, narratives, ethos, and worldview, explored the collective unconscious. The archetypes in shared memory, often repressed, continue to influence congregational life and macro-denominational polity. For example, we can think of Anglican bishops known for their unpredictable bullying. While some might experience the bishop as pastoral and visionary, others can find them to be a trigger of fear.  The bishop can be armed with thunderbolts, and the laity and clergy are unsure of who could be punished next. Some might view the bishop as a storm bringing misery, while others saw the same leader as essential for growth, as though they were like nourishing rain. Regardless, all may live in apprehension of the bishop’s retribution.

Those familiar with Greek myths will recognise Zeus, the god of weather, thunder, and lightning. Zeus could manifest as a ferocious storm to control others. Or he might transform into a swan to seduce Leda, a mortal queen, leading to the birth of influential mythological subordinates. Bishops can wield significant powers but be utterly unpredictable, punishing those who question their authority and rewarding obedience. Colleagues, congregations, and clergy can live in fear of banishment or punishment, unsure of when wrath or favour might come next, or why.

The Odyssey still has a lot to teach the Church of England. But the lessons lie not in heroism or some longed-for homecoming. Rather, we find the lessons in the lack of accountability, hubris and failure of moral leadership, and the absence of transparent governance. Bishops hide behind their clouds in their heavens, dwelling in Olympus. Nobody trusts these gods and demi-gods who lead the Church of England. They are capricious and unaccountable. They seek only obeisance and control. Like the ancient cults that Homer knew, such deities are just feared – or increasingly ignored. The epic saga that is the Church of England will end when this ancient cult is abandoned, and the people turn once again to a true faith rooted in Christ, and grounded in truth, justice, equality and mutual accountability. 

In the past week or so there have been two well-publicised challenges to those who occupy the places of power in the Church of England.  In the first place, the safeguarding organisation INEQE described, with a certain frankness, how their work of review of the Church in its safeguarding work had been impeded and obstructed by individuals at the top level of governance in the Church of England and in certain dioceses.  Those of us with ears to the ground will have some idea as to the identity of these individuals.  There has been a pattern over the past ten years of the Church commissioning reports and recommendations for action in the matter of safeguarding.  A common theme from these reports has been to urge the Church to set up bodies to oversee safeguarding work, which are truly independent of the institutional church structures.  Somehow something happens always to prevent these suggestions ever coming to fruition.  A major initiative, the setting up of the ISB (Independent Safeguarding Board), was closed with a brutal suddenness after operating for just months.  This was a bitter disappointment for the group of survivors who had already started work with this group.  Every time there is a hope for a new initiative to help the cause of survivors and their endless search for healing, something gets in the way.  The reasons given for such obstructions include issues of ecclesiastical law, administrative blockages or theological objections.  For whatever reason, the Church of England at the highest level has appeared to be applying the reverse gear.  Instead of a smooth sense of progress in the carrying out of safeguarding work, there is the loud sound of jarring metal in the workings. 

The protest contained in the INEQE report (well publicised in Thinking Anglicans and elsewhere) is supported by a new open letter to the Archbishops of Canterbury and York from a group of 20 interested individuals.  They wish to see action taken over the INEQE complaint.  What is called for is an “independent urgent review” of safeguarding in the Church.  The main signatory of the letter is well-known to everyone who follows this topic of safeguarding in the Church of England, Martin Sewell.  He is a former member of General Synod.   Also a signatory is Jane Chevous, the survivor who has allowed her story to be told not only on her blog but also to the British public through the medium of Women’s Hour. The thrust of this Open Letter is to reiterate the observation of the INEQE report about the individuals who obstruct ‘justice and reform’.  They are described in the Open Letter as a ‘group of influential senior officers at the diocesan level and certain individuals within the national Church’. 

The letter goes on to note that in our society there is an increasing lack of trust in national institutions, illustrated by the Post Office IT scandal, the Hillsborough cover-up and the Infected Blood scandal.  The letter acknowledges that the role of Archbishops in the Church is not to operate like CEOs, with the ability to hire and fire as they wish.  Power and responsibility within the church system operates according to a different model.  It is the fact that there is enormous complexity in the way that power operates within the Church that has allowed a ‘small group of influential senior officers’ to take charge.  It is inconceivable that INEQE did not know the names of those in this ‘group’, just as it not credible to claim that the Archbishops themselves are unaware of who is in fact pulling the levers of power and influence in the Church.  The letter bluntly calls for those officers to be ‘removed from influence as a matter of high priority and urgency.’  It also demands that those removed must not be ‘replaced by like-minded subordinates.’  The letter reminds the Archbishops that the Charity Commissioners are taking an interest in the situation of ‘drift and delay’.  They will not accept further obstructionism on the part of the Church.  The Church seems to be promoting and preserving its vested interests at a far higher level of importance than transparency and justice for the group of survivors.

It remains to be seen whether this letter will achieve any of its aims, or whether it will sink into the abyss where other initiatives, buried by apathy and the inertia of the status quo, lie forgotten.  But one word in the letter is crucial and sums up what is contained in this appeal to the Archbishops.  That word is independent.  There is a call for a wholly independent reviewer, one who might also represent the interests of the Charity Commissioners who are pressing the CofE to get its act together over institutional and safeguarding reform.    The Sewell letter is one more attempt at prodding the Church to do the right thing and coax the institution to move forward, in spite of the impediments of vested interests and monopolies of power at the heart of the national Church.

When we look back at the past ten years of safeguarding reform and progress, we note that the achievements have been mixed at best.  Substantial progress has been made to promote awareness of safeguarding issues at every level of the Church.  A proper reckoning with past failures is, nevertheless, still woefully incomplete.  When looking at the past performance of the Church, we find stalling, the dragging of feet and the preservation of vested interests at all costs.  The culture of safeguarding is at best defensive in many areas.  Yet there is one important spark of light on the horizon which may prove to be of decisive importance in the way the future unfolds.  In the past week Lambeth Palace has announced the appointment of two senior advisers to the Archbishop of Canterbury.  Both appointees are highly qualified and experienced women who bring real knowledge of the non-church world into church structures.  Neither, apparently, has any specialist knowledge in safeguarding but both will have insights into the importance of institutional reputation.  In other words they will be aware of how any appearance of poor decision making or failures of integrity and honesty does a great deal of damage to the Church.  The first of the two new arrivals is Becky Clark and she is to be Archbishop’s Chief of Staff.  The other appointee is Anna Dulic-Sills and she is to be Chief Operating Officer.  Both these women have impressive CVs which indicate a familiarity with the detailed working of large secular institutions.  In Clark’s case, there is previous exposure to the workings of Church House.  The detail that intrigues me is that Clark has spent the past four years in the Falkland Islands working as a senior civil servant.  Having been so recently completely outside the church system, she will, no doubt, have now a totally fresh perspective on the church’s problems.  There will also be a solid feminine perspective on many of the issues that have appeared to get mired in the somewhat public school and upper-middle class hierarchical male culture found in the elites of the Church of England. 

The Martin Sewell letter may yet turn out to be another failed attempt at appealing on behalf of the wounded victims of church wanting to be heard by those with power in the national church.  It may also be a timely message that coincides with the arrival of what may be a completely new culture about to take over at the heart of the Church establishment.  While we must not allow ourselves to deal in stereotypes, there is a strong chance that the new female triumvirate taking over the reins of power will want to address safeguarding issues in a new way.  Typical female qualities of empathy, compassion and patience are much needed at the centre and especially in dealing with decades of hurt and damaged lives.  Instead of the male values of hierarchy, control and coercive power which were forged on the playing fields of Iwerne Minster, we may find a church leadership that is better attuned to the values of care, encouragement and healing.

The Church of England leadership has recently been given two challenges to do something to recover its reputation and integrity in this crucial area of safeguarding.  Both initiatives, the INEQE challenge and the Sewell letter, are declaring unambiguously that the old centres of power within the church are no longer fit for purpose.  Past leaders need to be let go and new styles of leadership be allowed to flourish within a different culture and under new leaders.  Am I too optimistic in seeing such a new start arriving with the new appointees to work closely with our female Archbishop of Canterbury?  Even if these two experienced women have currently little direct experience of safeguarding, they will quickly learn the importance of getting things right in the area.  The most urgent task for our Church of England is to regain the confidence of its members and promote an images of integrity that will regain the respect of the wider British public.    

https://d3hgrlq6yacptf.cloudfront.net/61f2fd86f0ee5/content/pages/documents/26-07-final-report-for-publication.pdf

It has not been easy writing this blog piece as new information keeps appearing.  Thus, the drafts I put together earlier in the week have had to rewritten more than once to keep the piece more or less up to date.  The main focus for this blog is a document published on the Church of England official website,122 pages long, entitled Independent Review of Case TT commissioned by the Interim Commissioner for Independent Case Reviews.  I hope that this short summary of its contents in this post will encourage many of the Surviving Church followers to read it in full.  In summary it contains a frank and detailed critique of the poor treatment of an abuse survivor by individuals and groups acting for the Church of England over several decades. When the document first appeared on July 15^th 2026, the survivor’s name was anonymised but, since publication, other published references to the case have revealed her name.  I understand that this survivor, Jane Chevous, is happy for her name to be used rather than the TT in the Review.  This is in spite of the fact that the Review refers to some quite sensitive information connected with her personal life. 

In urging my readers to persevere with a detailed study of the 31.8. Review of Jane’s struggles to be heard by the Church authorities over several decades, I am hoping that, like me, they will feel themselves also much better informed about the traumatic experience involved in being a survivor.  They will also become more familiar with the protocols and processes employed by members of the National Safeguarding Team and other professionals doing this work. The detail in the Review helps us to understand how complicated is the task that professionals face in delivering safeguarding. From this current Review we gain a level of familiarity with the processes used by these NST officers, caseworkers and core groups. Attempting to deliver safety protocols to the church institution when there are competing interests and priorities in operation at the same time, can result in confusion. Even if the Review does not answer all the safeguarding queries that many of us continue to hold, this is a document full of good sense and clarity. Asking the right questions of safeguarding experts may eventually produce a system which is easy to understand and does not add to the pain of those who are victims/survivors of a dysfunctional institution. The current 31:8 published Review on the story of Jane’s experiences as a victim of both abuse and insensitive management is an important staging post on the way to a renewed system of safeguarding which will promote justice and healing.

In pursuit of a clear understanding of all that has happened to Jane over the last 40+ years, the Reviewer has consulted numerous document and conducted many interviews. From the documents, from emails to SAR requests, we get remarkable insight into the way that safeguarding is done.   No doubt, as the result of this critical glimpse of the operation of core group meetings set up to examine Jane’s story, there will be a call to make changes in safeguarding processes all over the country.  

Jane’s story can be told in a few broad strokes.  Back in 1979 she was working in church youth work and she was involved with two ordained youth leaders who abused her sexually and spiritually over a number of years.  As with many sexual victims, the behaviour of the abusers was not immediately recognised as abusive by the victim.  It was only in 2001 that she made a formal approach to the Diocese of Southwark to report the abuse.  This was resisted and she herself was subject to victim blaming.   She later discovered that her claims of being subject to rape were dismissed in the belief she was a ‘gold-digger’ and also ‘hysterical’.  The two bishops in the diocese and the archdeacon involved with her case seemed to have no interest in establishing the facts, all their sympathy and support being extended to the perpetrators.  Jane, unsurprisingly, was seriously dismayed by this response and she abandoned her membership of the Church and her roles within it.  Her mental health was severely affected, and she made attempts on her life.

The next stage of the narrative begins in 2019 after Jane had heard about the work of IICSA and the setting up of the NST in 2015.  From the beginning, her approach to the NST was affected by a serious misunderstanding about what they were able to provide for her.  In her words, ‘I entered full of hope and optimism in a place of relative healing and left distressed, broken and with no justice, accountability or healing’.  As the 31:8 reviewer has pointed out, the NST had a protocol which was always focussed on the need to manage risk.  If an accusation was made, the priority was not to establish responsibility or accountability, but to take steps to remove the potential risk of future abuses or harm.  The reviewer gives quite a bit of space to this early misunderstanding that arose because of this protocol embedded in the NST that their task was to manage future threats.  It certainty did not meet Jane’s felt need to be believed and to receive some kind of apology for what she had suffered.  For the outside observer trying to understand other cases with similar misunderstandings, it is useful to see this discussed in the Review from both perspectives, that of the survivor and that of the church institution.

The following three years of work by the NST with Jane reveal a number of obstacles identified by the 31:8 reviewer which militated against smooth functioning at the NST.  Jane herself was spending time abroad and the Covid epidemic was raging.  There were also problems and serious mistakes at a practical level with some poor record- keeping.  This was compounded by a number of changes of staff which made continuity hard to maintain.  Long delays in communication with Jane because of these bureaucratic delays made her often feel disconnected from the NST process.        

The misunderstandings that bedevilled the safeguarding process for Jane throughout her interaction with the NST from 2019-2022 should, we might feel, not have been unexpected when they occurred.  The reviewer expresses some surprise that a leaflet to explain the meaning of ‘managing risk’ was not made available.  My own observation is to express surprise that the leaders of the NST had not met a similar situation before like Jane’s.  Her complaint, which any intelligent individual might make, was to question whether it was appropriate to use the word ‘safeguarding’ to describe a process that seemed to have as its main purpose the protection of an institution. This seemed to take precedence over caring for a wronged individual.  If we examine the use of the word ‘risk’ in this NST context, we find that the most important thing being protected is the Church itself.  Legal advice being given to the NST in its early days seemed to have suggested that any admittance of responsibility might involve the Church in huge financial liabilities.  This prevented the NST providing the one thing that might have brought healing and closure for a victim – an apology and some accountability.  That legal advice turned out to be completely wrong and, in an earlier blog, I have quoted the relevant legal evidence to refute the liability argument.  This was provided by a legally trained relative.

The 31:8 Review consists of 122 tightly typed pages and the fact of its appearance at the beginning of the summer holidays and after a meeting of General Synod might seem to be an attempt to condemn it to a quiet burial. Were this very important Review to be forgotten, it would avoid some frankly embarrassing criticism of the Church’s leadership alongside some challenges to the official protocols for safeguarding practice.  I am hoping that many who read this summary will take the trouble to read the full Review.  They will learn a lot about the inner workings of the CofE and the way that it sometimes strays from its claimed high standards.   The Review is extremely critical of the church leaders in the Southwark diocese who, in 2001, received Jane’s complaint and then treated her with such cruelty and disrespect.  The Review records the later efforts by the NST to challenge the earlier behaviour of these church leaders in the 2001/2 period when Jane’s case had been brought to their attention.  The leaders concerned, two bishops and an archdeacon are not named, but are clearly identifiable from the information that is revealed about them.  The negotiations with these leaders were not concluded satisfactorily even though a great deal of effort and time was expended on meetings and contact with them.  Ideally the breakdown in relationships that had occurred in 2001/2002 should have been worked through and somehow resolved.  That never seems to have happened and the 31:8 reviewer accepts that this was the case.  The DSA in Southwark did however accept, after the conclusion of the NFT process and its 8 (!) core group meetings, how deeply traumatising the original abuse had been for Jane and how the processes would have been far less disruptive for Jane if she had been allowed to tell her story on tape to avoid seemingly endless re-questioning and cross-examination.  A further bright spot for Jane came as the result of the current Bishop of Southwark writing to her supportively after the end of the NFT inquiry.  He was able to apologise and express his regret at what she had to endure, both in the early days and after she brought the incidents to the attention of the church authorities.  Above all the Bishop of Southwark expressed his belief in her account.  Seemingly he was unafraid of Jane initiating some massive lawsuit against the Church of England.  The Bishops of Oxford and Dorchester also listened to Jane’s story and apologised for the abuse she had suffered. Both dioceses followed this up by agreeing to make financial provision towards the cost of her counselling.   

There is much else in the Review in terms of good and bad practice to be mulled over, but I have to say that having reached the end with its descriptions of bullying and power abuse throughout the narrative, I am left feeling myself somewhat traumatised.  The assumption that someone making a complaint is automatically a mischief maker and should be frightened off by a solicitor’s letter does not create a trusting mutually supportive Body of Christ in an area.  The lack of any pastoral response or insight among church leaders when Jane’s original complaint was made, meant that the suffering that Jane endured continued for decades.  Jane’s story and the failures in response are important and the Church of England will become a better place if even some of the lessons are learned from her story.