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There was a time in my memory when clergy were allowed to work without the constraints of safeguarding rules and health and safety awareness. It was not, by any means, a golden era. Two episodes still haunt me from my curacy days in the 1970s, when I ended up in the casualty department of a hospital with an injured child. In neither case was I, the organiser of the outing, held responsible as each were deemed pure accidents. I suspect that today’s risk sensitive culture might want to take a different view. The most important fact abut these episodes is that in neither case was the damage sustained by the child serious. The main thing I note here is that attitudes to risk and safety in church and elsewhere were not such a high priority in my early days of ministry.
But, in recalling these days of risk innocence, as I can call them, I have to confess that things did not always work out so well. One particular episode involved my then Vicar taking a gamble over the integrity of a troubled young man whom he took in as a lodger at the Vicarage in my parish. The young man was then, in 1973, about 29 and, from the details I picked up, he had had a troubled past. This included a chaotic home life as a child and later episodes of homelessness. Charlie, as I shall call him, did however have a strong outgoing personality and soon ingratiated himself with the congregation. He had no full-time job but busied himself around the church plant and acted as an informal caretaker. Charlie made it his business to get on with me. Not only were we fellow lodgers at the Vicarage, but he wanted to help at the youth club which met on a Sunday night in the church hall, and which was under my charge. All went well for many months, and it was helpful to have another adult to help supervise the games and activities that I laid on for the young people. There was nevertheless something not quite right in his behaviour which I could not name. I was careful never to allow him to be alone with the young people, especially the girls. Suddenly, everything fell apart for Charlie in the course of a single evening. He had what appeared to be a psychotic episode and began to shout and to molest some of the girls in front of everyone. Fortunately, the Vicar was able to come and take control of what was a very difficult situation. Charlie left the following day and I never heard from him again. There was, incidentally, no talk of referring him on to a specialist mental health professional.
What are my thoughts on this difficult situation after a gap of almost fifty years? From a safeguarding and health and safety perspective, Charlie was, and probably always had been, high risk. But there was something else going in the situation which, I believe, links it to recent events in the Diocese of London. The Vicar’s acceptance of Charlie into his confidence and home seemed to be telling us something about the Vicar’s own needs. The area of London where we found ourselves was quite cosmopolitan and the Vicar was an ambitious Cambridge graduate. From my perspective, there seemed always to be a tension between his social background and the mainly working-class status of his parishioners. Indeed, he appeared not to like many of them and some confided to me that this feeling was mutual. Possibly the act of investing considerable trust in Charlie was a way for the Vicar to relieve his feelings of dissonance and alienation. Charlie was his ‘tame’ working class friend and through him he was attempting to show himself as a contemporary modern man for whom class was of no importance. The very keenness to befriend Charlie demonstrated, paradoxically, that for him class mattered a great deal. Something similar was happening among those who were lionising Jimmy Savile during the same period. Savile knew how to work an over-familiar cloying charm on his establishment victims. These were the ones who gave him his opportunities for abuse. Charlie and Savile were both adepts at allowing the privileged to feel socially sophisticated because of the faux friendships they offered to a member of another class. In Charlie’s case the mesmerising came to an end before the damage had been allowed to become too serious.
In retrospect, the act of trusting Charlie, whatever the reason, had been highly dangerous. To be fair to my Vicar, the potentially disastrous situation was partly created by the risk innocence I have referred to. The church structures of the time also did little to help. There was no system of record checks, independent advice or any kind of risk assessment process. Clergy, like my Vicar, were left to struggle by themselves with whatever wisdom and common-sense they possessed. Sometimes this was insufficient, and their naivety and inexperience could lead them to places of extreme danger. Also, there was the fact that clergy desperately want to do the right Christian thing and offer forgiveness to those who sought it. The penitent sinner is hard to resist especially if he/she is one who has struggled through a lifetime of setbacks in the relationships they have made. Charlie was, by all appearances, one of these converted sinners. Currently, clergy are less likely to follow their gut instincts but rather seek advice from a professional. The modern profession of safeguarding offers the church of today a way to help a clergyperson find a way through some of the moral dilemmas facing them. The new world we have created for ourselves in the Church is a safety-first world. Safety and a desire for protection from disasters and mistakes replace a reliance on instinct and gut feeling which ruled in the past.
The current Martin Sargeant saga seems to be, though on a completely different scale, another Charlie story. I am assuming that most of my readers will be familiar with the broad outlines of the way that Sargeant, a man with a prison record, stole £5 million from the Diocese of London after being put in charge of some of its funds. There are still a number of anomalies in the account about exactly what went on and to whom precisely he was answerable. Nevertheless, in this story, there are some striking parallels with the story of Charlie. Sargent’s tale is another account of an apparently repentant sinner who arrives at a church and becomes trusted because he is useful. The skills Sargeant possessed proved to be ones that are not commonly found among church people – financial wizardry and property development. Such a man becomes looked up to by many people because of these skills. Eventually he acquires real power, while the original dark background of his thefts and imprisonment becomes forgotten or supressed. In retrospect we can ask why were there no checks and auditing? Clearly, particularly by the standards of today, these administrative failings were massive. But, by the standards of what was common practice among clergy trained forty or fifty years ago, i.e. the Bishop and the senior diocesan staff who worked with Sargeant, the situation is perhaps a little more understandable. Having known Richard Chartres, the former Bishop of London, a little in the early years of his ministry, I recognise the clerical omnicompetence that he seemed to exhibit from the very start. Most of the time, Chartres seems to have able to use his gifts of apparently reliable judgment to good effect. Many in the Church and beyond were also impressed by his quick intellect and impressive gift for public speaking. This allowed him to reach the very pinnacle of the CoE’s hierarchy. But, in the process of appointing or, at any rate, acquiescing in the appointment of Sargeant, and then failing to oversee his actual work in the diocese, Chartres is now seen to have been trapped by the ubiquitous risk innocence I spoke about above. This, I suggest, was shared by many of his contemporaries among the clergy. What at the time may have seemed to be an inspired appointment turned out to be a major calamity. This is one that will for ever taint his legacy. In a nutshell, the Bishop apparently believed that his assessment of Sargeant was sound, and that he could allow the normal checks and balances of regular employment practice to be bypassed. It was a high-risk decision by the Bishop and one that has backfired badly.
There is, I believe, the further aspect in the Sargeant story which is suggestive of a further link to my Vicar’s relationship with Charlie. I was, obviously, not close to the Chartres/Sargeant relationship but this attempt to understand its dynamic seems a reasonable one and is based on the publicly available information. The first fact to be considered is that Sargeant, from the descriptions of him as a ‘fixer’, came, like Charlie, from fairly humble social origins. Was Sargeant also fulfilling a similar role for Bishop Chartres as Charlie had appeared to provide for my Vicar? Was Chartres benefitting from being able to show an apparent high level of social kudos and sophistication by having, apparently in an atmosphere of relaxed informality, a working-class man like Sargeant working for him? Working closely with Sargeant would have helped Chartres to claim that he was a true man of the people, at the same time as he was mixing with royalty and other well-connected folk in society. At some point, one can imagine a firm loyalty, even personal friendship, developing between the two men, one which could ignore any social dissonance. Any criticisms about Sargeant that Chartres might have picked up from his staff could be sat on firmly as suggesting, on the part of the complainant, some social prejudice. I find it hard to believe that Sargeant never attracted any criticism in the nine or so years he worked as Head of Operations in the diocese. One possible explanation for this is that he was always protected by the Bishop on each occasion. My reading of the overall situation is that Chartres did indeed invest in Sargent an enormous amount of his personal trust and loyalty. The way that Sargeant survived in his post for so long can perhaps be attributed to the near veneration and personal loyalty that Chartres seems to have felt for his right-hand man. Was this depth of loyalty also felt by other senior staff in the London Diocese or was it the protection of the Bishop alone that kept him in post and allowed him so much power? That discussion is going on currently within the diocese and I imagine we have not heard the last of the story.
This blog post has turned to be about one major issue that afflicted the Church in years gone by. The culture of the Church in the past allowed the clergy a great deal of freedom (excessive?) to manage things exactly as they wished. There was much scope for mistakes and too little support for all the variety of tasks the clergy had to undertake. The expectations of clerical omnicompetence had some dire consequences. The apparent failings and catastrophic losses in the Diocese of London are perhaps good examples of how this past independence culture still exerts a powerful influence today in some areas. What the future should set down as correct behaviour for clergy remains to be seen. Somewhere there has to be a balance between excess independence and a responsible deference to true expertise.