by Donald Payne
My mother has always enjoyed having a hard copy of the Daily Telegraph newspaper delivered to her home. When visiting her from overseas in December 2019, I picked up the paper one morning to see a front-page article detailing allegations of inappropriate behaviour by the prominent Evangelical church leader, Jonathan Fletcher. While I was vaguely aware of Jonathan Fletcher, what captured my attention was a photograph of another man who seemed more familiar. This photo of John Smyth spoke to the memory of someone I had not thought about for many years.
I attended my first Iwerne camp, aged 15, in the summer of 1981. One of my closest friends from school was going and had invited me. I was interested in the church, having recently been confirmed as an Anglican, as was the conventional thing to do at the boarding school I went to. When offered the chance to spend ten days away from home during the summer holidays, with the promise of sport every day and an opportunity to learn more about Christianity, I was curious and willing.
The camp was fun. I played a lot of football and cricket, everyone was friendly and I enjoyed the bible teachings. As was standard practice towards the end of the camp, I accepted Jesus as my saviour and was born again. I don’t remember meeting Jonathan Fletcher. I do remember his brother, David, and did not warm to him. Over the last few days of the camp, my group was introduced to another man, who was spoken about with a combination of reverence and awe. This was John Smyth – charming, charismatic, warm and hugely likable. Someone who immediately made you feel special. He gave a talk one evening. While I do not recall the details, I do remember that it was captivating. When the camp was over, we took a minibus from Iwerne to a meeting point, where our parents were to pick us up. For some reason, our particular group took a detour to John Smyth’s house, before heading back to our own homes. At the time it felt like something of a reward. I enjoyed the warmth and hospitality, and the smug feeling that our group had been chosen for an opportunity that was not afforded to everybody. We were special.
The following summer I attended Iwerne again. I had encouraged another of my close friends to attend. Two things stand out about this second visit. One was that the novelty and the excitement that I had experienced the year before began to diminish. In the year between the camps, I had spent time exploring more about Christianity with one of my school chaplains. To my initial dismay, he did not share my obvious excitement surrounding the Iwerne experience. He introduced me to a number of Christian authors, two of whom, the Anglican priest, Martin Israel, and the Trappist monk, Thomas Merton, quickly became my favourites. Looking back, it is no surprise that my attempt to celebrate my enthusiasm for these two particular writers did not go down as well as I expected with the Iwerne leaders.
The other striking memory from that second camp was the absence of John Smyth. We were told that he was very ill and therefore unable to attend that summer. We expressed our concern and sent our love and best wishes to his family. Undoubtedly, we would have prayed for him. As before, the camp was fun. It was summer, we were outdoors and there was a lot of sport. There was little further discussion about John Smyth.
A year later, in the summer of 1983, having done my ‘A’ levels, I was back at Iwerne again. I am not quite sure why I went for a third time. It might have been a way of using up time during a long summer holiday. Having been away at boarding school since the age of seven, I had no close friends who lived near me, so the prospect of two weeks away with people that I still got on with continued to hold some attraction. I had deepened my exploration of Martin Israel and Thomas Merton and had begun to experiment with mantra meditation as a form of prayer (popularised by John Main). However, it was becoming increasingly apparent that the views and practices of other Christian writers had no place within the particular form of theology promoted at Iwerne. During that third camp, my assigned mentor initiated a stern conversation with me about the heretical views that I was always keen to discuss. ‘It makes me question,’ he asked, ‘whether you really have been born again’. The atmosphere of warmth and friendship that I had experienced during my first camp had now noticeably cooled.
Fast forward to that December morning in my mother’s kitchen, seeing John Smyth‘s photograph in the paper. On reading the article, a multitude of memories began to resurface. I then embarked on an exhaustive and obsessive troll through the internet, discovering details of a Channel 4 documentary, the Rushton report, Bleeding for Jesus, Surviving Church and much more. I experienced surprise, disbelief and anger. And yet, I was not surprised. This felt familiar, recognisable. It was also accompanied by a huge sense of relief.
I have continued to follow the story although, more than forty years on, the world now makes more sense to me without God. I maintain a soft spot for Thomas Merton and have, more recently, immersed myself in the music and musings of Nick Cave. And yet I remain fascinated by this episode in my life. The trick that David Fletcher and his colleagues managed to play on us for so long was to target a group of vulnerable, impressionable young men, who had spent many years spent living in total institutions, away from family and all things familiar. The Iwerne hierarchy sold us a vision and a solution to our anxieties. They offered us meaning and, providing we embraced the whole package, a wonderful, liberating experience. Wonderful, that is, until we began to ask questions, to display curiosity and to wonder aloud about the occasional inconsistency in the teaching; until we began to express doubt. Initially, doubt was praised and encouraged. In the Iwerne playbook, transient doubt was a necessary part of the process towards faith. However, doubt that persisted was evidence of a fault – not in the teaching but in the boy. The kindness and encouragement that was experienced in abundance early on continued to be on offer, providing we accepted the message wholeheartedly. But if not, the mood began to change. There could be no discussion about the authenticity and validity of the message; no question that the teaching might not hold up to analysis. This was biblical teaching and the bible is God’s word. For those sinners who, like me, expressed ongoing curiosity and doubt, the fault was ours. At that point, the warmth and fellowship disappeared and was replaced, abruptly, with cold, callous rejection. That camp in 1983 was my last.
This cruel version of the Christian message allows flawed men to flourish. It provides a perfect environment for a charming, charismatic, monstrous man, one who makes you feel special, to hide in plain sight. I am intrigued by the knowledge that there are people, with whom I grew up and knew well in my adolescence, who continue to follow these teachings. There are others who do not just follow the teachings but have made them the source of their livelihood. And it is not just within the Evangelical world that such cruelty lurks. I think of Bishop Peter Ball, who attended services in the chapel at my school, preaching on Sundays and officiating at confirmation. A man who was held up to us as an example of kindness, humility and obedience. There but for the grace of God, go I.
Thanks! ‘Emotion recollected in tranquility’-and-‘life being lived forwards, but understood backwards’ come to mind after reading this interesting reflection. The ‘turn or burn’-and-‘must believe the authoritative book after a fundamentalist fashion’-ideas wear thin with a lot of older men and women exposed to them in early life. The ‘Book of Acts’ is always one of my favourite yearly reads. The Areopagus address in Chapter 17 catches my attention this year. People and the cosmos being divinely designed appears to be the opening or core initial argument there, as opposed to the ‘turn or burn’ emphasis which grips so many abusive cult groups.
A valuable testimony Donald. Thanks.
The Rodent wonders whether the writer of the blog post while attending Iwerne over three summers came across Rico Tice of Sherborne School.
Tice converted to evangelical Christianity at 16 in 1982 while still at the school, prompted by the death of his godfather, so the timeframes overlap. Tice’s own statement, published in Anglican Ink (Nov 2024), in response to the Makin report states: “As a university student in the spring of 1987, I was told that people from Iwerne camps had been beaten by Smyth … I had reported what I knew to senior people in the Iwerne camp hierarchy more than once.”
David Fletcher, served as “commandant” (overall leader) of the Iwerne camps from 1965 until 1986, and Iain Broomfield as commandant from 1986. So if Tice finds out only in 1987, who is he reporting this to? Neither commandant.
The Anglican Unscripted podcast clarifies that his reports were oral — “Every time the situation came up Rico reported it orally to his superiors, whether it was the rector or his bishop.”
But who is the rector here? The vicar of Christ Church, Clifton Down in Bristol — the church where Tice was a lay assistant, is a vicar and not a rector. Tice later worked as a curate at All Souls Langham Place which does have a Rector (the late Richard Bewes, named in the Makin report). And if it is the Rector at All Souls Langham Place, what causes the later conversation?
Maybe there was a visit by Smyth to All Souls Langham Place in the mid 1990’s?
There are any number of ways in which ‘the situation might come up’, including in conversations. A lot of men who attended Iwerne, knew Smyth, or knew Smyth survivors will have been on ASLP staff or attended at some point, and some might seek pastoral help. Or the conversation might arise because of a news report of some kind.
Iwerne really were extraordinarily narrow. One of my fellow students at theological college was a Iwerne camp leader. I was listening to Taize music one day and he remarked, ‘It’s pity they aren’t Christians.’
The assertion “a lot of men who attended Iwerne, knew Smyth, or knew Smyth survivors will have been on ASLP staff or attended at some point, and some might seek pastoral help” is sound. Yet there is no reference to any such thing in the Makin report.
Tice became a curate at ASLP in 1994; Smyth is known to be in the UK some weeks in 1995 and 1996; the direct flights all go to London and ASLP is centrally located in London.
[Makin, P163] In September 1995 .. John Smyth … travelled to the UK
[Makin, P133] April 1996: John Smyth visits UK for two weeks – spends time with young men convincing them to return to Zimbabwe with him to join Zambesi camps.
And “a lot of men who attended Iwerne, knew Smyth or … will have been on ASLP staff” so perhaps there was a visit? But there is no reference to it in the Makin report. And Tice’s statement on the Honest Evangelism website is silent on all detail between 1992 and 2016.
The Makin Report is pretty flawed, I don’t regard it as authoritative. However, it does add somewhat to the information we have from other sources.
I’m interested to read this. At the time I applauded Mr Makin’s appointment, believing that as a senior social worker he would bring expert knowledge to the case about matters, most importantly reporting practices, as they existed in the 1980s. I was dealing with child abuse litigation in that era, and know that things were very different then, even in social care circles. Mr Makin’s terms of reference instructed him to exclude findings based on hindsight. Sadly, he didn’t, and the consequence has been that the expectations of the 2020s rather than the realities of the 1980s have widely prevailed. This is not to deny or diminish the experiences of Smyth’s victims. The C of E simply hasn’t learned what Lord Carlile spelled out for them about how to deal with abuse cases.
I was privileged to see the correspondence chain between Mr Makin, the NST, and one of the people he criticised in his report. It was clear that he jumped to a conclusion not at all supported by the evidence, and it left me with a mistrust about his ability to evaluate evidence in other aspects of his report.
Now I’m going to be very unpopular! With hindsight (!) the job should have been given to a senior lawyer, whether solicitor, barrister or judge (probably retired) who would have investigated and reported forensically, far more quickly and possibly more succinctly. Guesswork is entirely contrary to what is required ‘on the balance of probabilities’, the evidential test to be applied, which always involves weighing up and evaluating both sides before concluding what is more likely.
On the inordinate length of the inquiry, in Mr Makin’s defence it’s clear that the project was under-resourced from the outset and probably much of the complexity was discovered while in progress.
Yes, Roland, I agree. It was clear, from what I saw, that Makin was not equipped to weigh up evidence and look at it from both sides. A forensic approach was needed.
Anglican Church cover ups possibly function with a ‘Motte and Bailey’ defence arrangement to protect ‘Fortress Shoddy’.
Do ‘Shoddy Bishops’ and ‘Shoddy Dicoesan Safeguarders’ defend the outer wall?
Is ‘Shoddy Chambers’ then the next inner defensive wall defended by-‘KC’-knights in armour, employed by dioceses trying to silence victims, witnesses, whistleblowers?
To capture ‘Fortress Shoddy’ thus will often, or inevitably, necessitate an independent inquiry led by a judge or barrister.
I have been looking at the Hillsborough cover up latterly. The culture within Anglicanism just stinks of deeply ingrained biases, and victims-witnesses-whistleblowers not being fairly treated. It took senior legal review to expose Hillsborough.
The delay time fixing a highly detailed independent inquiry can take the heat off church seniors. The excruciating detail and length of legal reports can help let them off the hook.
Until there was naming, shaming and eviction of senior players in holy orders, little appeared to change in Irish Catholicism. A few-‘red cards’-to bishops radically changed things. That’s what we desperately need in Anglicanism.
isn’t this a finding of fact though, rather than a finding based on hindsight?
Assume for the moment the Anglican Unscripted podcast detail is correct. It comes across from the language that the co-host knows Rico Tice. The phrase in the podcast is “Every time the situation came up Rico reported it orally to his superiors, whether it was the rector or his bishop”.
If so, Tice spoke to the late Rector of ASLP, Richard Bewes multiple times about this during 1994 (the start of the curacy) to (say about) 1997. And “his superiors” seems to imply other senior clergy at ASLP.
And all the reports were oral.
The Tice statement of November 2024 on Honest Evangelism says: “The Makin report refers only to the information I gave to Church of England authorities in 1991”.
But this ASLP detail isn’t anywhere in the Makin report. Nor is it anywhere in the Tice statement of November 2024.
In that statement Tice recognises “the need for the safeguarding process the Church of England is now running” but he is surely outside that process altogether having resigned. It also says “My Permission to Officiate has been removed by the Bishop of London in the meantime”.
What is behind the apparent silence?
“Every time the situation came up Rico reported it orally to his superiors, whether it was the rector or his bishop”.
I haven’t listened to the podcast so it may be that my question is redundant; anyway does ‘every time’ in this context refer to the time period since Tice has been at ASLP, or does this refer to his time at the camp or somewhere in between (in which case rector/bishop would be different).
the reasoning being: the Makin report already has “the information [Tice] gave to Church of England authorities in 1991” so later reports Tice makes are after that date in 1991. The use of the word “rector” rather than “vicar” indicating ASLP, which Tice joins in 1994.
“Every time the situation came up Rico reported it orally to his superiors, whether it was the rector or his bishop” indicates a time when Tice has “superiors” (plural). Prior to joining the staff at ALSP, his ministry experience was limited to a period as a lay assistant at Christ Church Clifton in Bristol and a gap year working as a youth worker in inner-city Liverpool. No rector at Christ Church Clifton.
In spite of Makin and the numerous other sources, including ‘Bleeding for Jesus’, I tend to believe that we are a long way from getting a full definitive history or full understanding of Smyth’s complex personality and his actions in England or Africa. This article is, I feel, very helpful in pointing to Smyth’s targeting individuals or individual groups without necessarily any abuse occurring. Remember that Smyth was a QC and a Recorder of the Crown Court, outwardly a successful person and a pillar of society. On an earlier ‘Surviving Church’ thread Winchester College boys (now men, indeed longtime men, of course) described how they felt privileged to be invited to lunch at Smyth’s house, even to feel important attending his barristers’ chambers in London and, sometimes, allowed to accompany him to court, without experiencing any abusive approaches. Clearly this could be interpreted as possible potential grooming. My experience (from dealing with child abuse litigation during those same years) indicates that Smyth typically targeted specific individual victims whom he perceived to be vulnerable.
Obviously I have no knowledge of his movements in 1990. He was certainly resident and very active in Zimbabwe. That would not rule outa visit to London. There is an obvious connection to All Souls, Langham Place in the recent CDM of Andrew Cornes, a curate there, which has been discussed and highlighted on Surviving Church.
In 1989, the late John Thorn, Headmaster of Winchester College, published his autography which, although vague in detail, nevertheless included his version of Smyth’s actions and the belief that ‘sending’ Smyth to Africa would be an end to the matter. When I suggested that this provided public knowledge, (albeit limited in detail) nearly three decades before the 2017 documentary, the response was how many people (including the police) would have read it or would have perceived a need to act on it or otherwise alert the authorities.
I’m afraid Smyth was a supreme double actor. In spite of the enormous amount written about him I feel in some details only the surface has been scratched.
“There is an obvious connection to All Souls” but pointing to Andrew Cornes is to understate the link.
At least three Rectors:
John Stott has an administration role for the Iwerne camp for many years
Richard Bewes – mentioned in the Makin report, aware from 1982
Hugh Palmer – mentioned in the Makin report, aware from 1982
And then:
Rico Tice – who puts out a statement that he “reported what I knew to senior people in the Iwerne camp hierarchy more than once” but on episode 892 of the podcast Anglican Unscripted the co-host says he reported to “the rector or his bishop” each time. Which implies to Richard Bewes as Rector from 1994 onwards, and possibly to John Stott. Adding “his bishop” is likely a colloquialism as ASLP isn’t overseen by the Bishop of London.
Maybe more too. Some transparency would surely help.
I have no connection with All Souls, Langham Place. Andrew Cornes is the only case in the public domain to come my way, hence only mentioning him. Whether a CDM was appropriate in his case must be open to question and any view about that a matter of personal opinion.
in which: “the respondent said that he was told that the beating … were being investigated by others who were more experienced than him. He had not made any further enquiry”
“31. The respondent puts forward a number of reasons for not reporting the matter or taking any action in respect of it.”
The Tribunal”note that [the respondent] accepted that his recollection on certain aspects of the case was not clear” and later the Tribunal is “satisfied that taking no steps at all to confirm the account, share the information or to make of enquiry or offer assistance at all was neglectful.”
yet Makin on page 63 and (u) has: “A victim alerted the Reverend Richard Bewes at All Souls Church, Langham Place, to the danger that John Smyth posed” [in October 1982]
but the Tribunal is unfortunately not shown that observation.
Same Rector that Tice would seem to be reporting to in the 1990’s at ASLP.
what was the reason you chose the words “open to question”?
that being the case where the Tribunal “note[s] that [the respondent] accepted that his recollection on certain aspects of the case was not clear” and “even if he was told that matters were being investigated by other senior leaders, he took no steps to confirm that that was the position”
yet the Makin report has (page 63 and (u) “A victim alerted the Reverend Richard Bewes at All Souls Church, Langham
Place, to the danger that John Smyth posed when he was going on a Mission to Malawi with African Enterprise” [in October 1982]
Who is the same Rector at ASLP when Tice is apparently making reports to “the rector” and “superiors” in the 1990’s.
At Cambridge in the mid 60’s, I heard about Iwerne and ‘Bash’; my very minor public school did not come within its orbit! For which relief, much thanks!
Abuse at Iwerne raises very much bigger questions which continue to haunt the Anglican Church in our own time. Cultic secrecy sees far too much power invested in too few hands, and our bishops are still not properly held to account. Smyth did not arise in a vacuum. Does an absence of external oversight, on BAH (bullying-abuse-harassment) allegations, still see VWW (victims-witnesses-whistleblowers) get shoddily treated, or all too often just branded as “troublemakers”? Many Iwerne victims individually got the rawest of raw deals. But a wider problem now exposed, with the Anglican senior leadership culture, deserves much more media and church member attention.
This is truly fascinating reading.
What stand out for, as someone who is a survivor (well, sometimes – sometimes I’m a victim) of spiritual abuse is how similar the dynamics are to my experience, even though it was in a very different context.
The warmth and welcome, followed by a sudden transformation to anger or coldness when someone questioned the leaders or stepped out of line is very typical of my experience.
It was a wicked episode, over many decades. I was a ‘Iwerne boy’ ten years earlier, from 1969-1971. I think I attended three times, as well as some Easter short camps in Eastbourne or somewhere, with talks about the evils inter alia of masturbation. Smyth was just starting to gain in the Iwerne ascendancy, David Fletcher’s blue-eyed boy. Jonathan Fletcher tried to groom me, not in any personal way, but to test whether I was ‘one of them.’ I’d arrived in London to start work, and hadn’t found a church, but I had attended St Helen’s Bishopsgate once or twice. Jonathan invited me to supper one Sunday evening. I imagined it was a kind of newcomers event. Imagine my surprise at being the only guest. I have the clearest recollection, meeting in a house in Ellington Street, Islington, probably a Bank of Dad property. We never met again. I caught up with David Fletcher years later on the Wycliffe Hall council. When tasked with advising the council on the appointment of a new Chair, he asked me (about the preferred internal candidate, a diocesan bishop who he didn’t know very well), ‘is he a converted man?’ It was fairly shocking, but not as shocking as finding out about the allegations of abuse against Fletcher D, then dead. Makin was a pretty good report, but there were missing people. Peter Lee, later Bishop of Christ the King, Johannesburg, warned his fellow bishops about Smyth. But appears to have said nothing before that. Hundreds of people knew about Smyth quite quickly. Lee was a Iwerne officer during my time, as was Roger Combes. The better report is the Colthart Report in Zimbabwe. I would never go so far as to say it was all a cult, but it was warped Christianity, apostate in my view.
I’m sure that in some details only the surface has been scratched. I also found the Coltart report far more valuable and informative. Possibly the most striking thing is the extent of Mr Coltart’s detailed knowledge of the UK (England) end of things. I’m not sure that his report was initially public, but it contains most of the essential of what emerged in the television documentary three decades later. It also has, as one would expect, the essential facts of events in Zimbabwe. 2013 seems to have become the watershed year for C of E’s ‘official’ knowledge. Smyth was appearing on South African national television in 2014 and seemingly functioning in South African society, including its courts, without challenge until the 2017 documentary ‘exploded’ for him.
An interesting testimony and observation! I wonder if lots of other younger people had similar experiences decades ago , and also if your post could jog memories.
A little aside! Private Eye 11-9-26 (page 37, small top left feature) has a small item on Blackburn Cathedral. I seem to recollect some past interest in Blackburn on this Blog.
Back to Iwerne now. The commentary above is interesting. But it’s maybe easy sometimes to be wise in retrospect. Whistleblowing is never easy, but was it a great deal harder in the Church culture of the 1970’s or 1980’s?
… or 1990’s?
the Makin Review’s framing of the UK abuse as a closed chapter ending in 1984 may reflect the limits of the evidence that it sought out. If there were any UK abuses reported in the 1990’s these could surely have faced the same institutional wall.
How likely is a clean geographical split? Is it realistic to assume that abusing entirely stops in the UK the moment he moves abroad, and in Africa only, with all abusive behavior paused on visits back to the UK?
An unholy trinity, of shoddy Anglican safeguarding and shoddy episcopal oversight, coupled with cynical use of NDAs or legal ruses, may indeed stretch far beyond the 1980’s. Is Smyth the cherry on the icing, the tip of the iceberg, or perhaps both of these? Irish Catholicism was shattered when the 1990’s saw exposure of abuse and bullying, plus senior clerical cover ups on a monumental scale. But that profile is talked about now as an acute on chronic one. For every major abuser uncovered, are there hundreds or thousands of significant but more minor issues with clerics abusing their authority? And has this helped empty congregations or denominations?
Can you tell us more about the Private Eye item, for those of us who don’t have a subscription?
It’s really very short. ‘MUSIC AND MUSICIANS’ on page 37 is the bit. There are three short articles, each probably well under 200 words.
The first article opens with: ‘BLACKBURN CATHEDRAL has had its problems but nothing quite so messy as now.’ It then refers to a dean, a precentor and a resident organist. The names men nothing to me. But it may be of interest to other SC readers. It refers to CDM and suspension.
That P.Eye edition runs 11 Sept to 24 Sept, and costs £2-99. It has Farage with an oyster on the front, and my Tescos locally still have quite a few unsold copies.
Thank you. However, I’m unable to get to anywhere that sells Private Eye.
The short answer to your question is, I am sure, yes, and I find the approach taken in the 2020s by the C of E and others to be totally out of step with actual experience of the 1970s and 1980s. I’m not prepared to name names or identify which authority, but in my work of dealing with child abuse litigation a senior social care executive speaking of earlier times almost casually said “We all knew that it happened, but no one ever said anything”.
Typo corrected!!!
It’s really very short. ‘MUSIC AND MUSICIANS’ on page 37 is the bit. There are three short articles, each probably well under 200 words.
The first article opens with: ‘BLACKBURN CATHEDRAL has had its problems but nothing quite so messy as now.’ It then refers to a dean, a precentor and a resident organist. The names mean nothing to me. But it may be of interest to other SC readers. It refers to CDM and suspension.
That P.Eye edition runs 11 Sept to 24 Sept, and costs £2-99. It has Farage with an oyster on the front, and my Tescos locally still have quite a few unsold copies.
Thanks James. In the 2020 BBC2 documentary it was said that the Peter Ball case, horrible as it was, is also the ugly tip of a large iceberg. Church musicians know that the iceberg is still there.
Michelle Burns writes (to P. Eye): “The Church knows what needs to change. The uncomfortable question is who benefits from making sure it doesn’t?… Name the people obstructing reform and hold them accountable”. Yes, ‘controlling’ clerics (Rowan Williams’s term in 2024) do abuse their power or ‘authority’. As I wrote in July, we need a modern understanding of how and why – and we must keep saying so. Thanks again for your comments – and the P. Eye ‘Heads-Up’.
Kieran
Thanks, Kieran, it’s certainly a good discussion on this thread!
The various contributions here raise a lot of interesting points.
It’s not just clerics who obstruct reform in the C of E – though some of them certainly have. One of the worst blocks, if not the worst, is a senior layman.
Some very good points in this thread.
Janet – is your email address still jhfife@icloud.com? I can scan you those bits from the current P. Eye. My address is KieranFitzsimons@btinternet.com.
I’ll write further on what Stephen, Janet, and Kames have said.#
Kieran
Yes it is, Kieran. Thanks!
Sorry for the typos – more haste, less speed!