I recently heard someone use this expression, emotional atrophy, when speaking about the political woes of the current British government. They were, as the reader might be able to guess, describing the catastrophic failure of sensitivity on the part of those in power in the UK. They were thinking of the tone-deaf and inappropriate behaviour of holding a social event in the middle of a pandemic and on the eve of Prince Philip’s funeral.
The word atrophy describes the fact that a part of an organism has never been allowed to develop or function properly. A foot, arm, or here, the capacity for feeling respect for a grieving family, has withered through lack of use. The organ that has atrophied still exists, but it might as well not exist since, in its withered state, it has ceased to work. As I write these words, the political fall-out for this current example of what we might regard a grossly insensitive behaviour on the part of senior politicians, has not reached a climax. It is clear that that the reputations of these same politicians is under serious threat for their terrible failures of sensitivity.
Moving from current matters, we have all experienced emotional atrophy in others. As children we would have chosen other words to describe this phenomenon. Words like snooty or stuck-up might convey the experience of a child trying to negotiate some of the grown-ups encountered beyond the family. Some of the people about whom we used such adjectives, may well have been emotionally blunted. Equally, many would be among those frightened of children and uncertain how to speak to them. Society, particularly today, has made problematic the whole issue of young people and children interacting with adults outside the family. We sadly now live in a highly polarised society where any kind of interaction with a child may be frowned upon or regarded as suspicious, even within a church setting.
Leaving to one side our memories as children and the way we then related to adults, we are acutely aware of the issues around meeting someone for the first time. One fear we may have is of being blanked or ignored. Fortunately, most first encounters take place in defined settings and the conventions that exist help us in knowing what to say to a complete stranger. Formality is likely to dominate any initial interaction in a workplace environment. This will be quite different in a party. At a party we may allow ourselves the freedom to ask questions about a person’s background. The same questions would normally be totally inappropriate in a work setting. Sometimes we can work with someone for years and never discover a thing about their personal lives or their inner feelings. The relationship is a purely contractual one. They give the orders, and we obey (or vice-versa). Most of us can find such a situation extremely trying, when we are engaged with another person in a working relationship and the person gives away nothing personal. In the case of curate working with a non-communicating training incumbent, the reaction will often be simply to keep your nose clean until escape beckons. We have on the blog discussed relationships among clergy in team situations. Some reactions suggested that teams are always mutually affirming of all the members. Sadly, my experience has been that if there is any trace of hierarchy in the team structure, it will be rigorously enforced. Far more people seem to prefer the ‘safe’ environment of a defined structure than the uncertainties of open-ended relationships. These risk exposing personal vulnerabilities.
When we look at a body of clergy in the Church of England, we might suggest that each of them, like everyone else, is to found somewhere along a spectrum between formal gravity and exuberant openness. Each, in other words, can be described in terms of their tendency to keep all relationships carefully business-like or move in the direction of being spontaneously open, even chaotic. It is no secret that the powers that be in the Church seem to prefer those who practise a high degree of emotional control and correctness. They are the ones who achieve promotion. The safe predictable types fit far better into an institutional system like the Church. Predictability is always highly esteemed in any organisation. Spontaneous creative personalities are less easy to control. People who wear their heart on their sleeve must be kept safely under supervision. The institution, here the Church of England, must always be kept safe from eccentrics and mavericks of every kind. Alongside the word ‘sound’ so beloved by many evangelicals, we find a further word being required of candidates for high office. That word is ‘safe’. The connotations of these two words, whether used singly or together, imply an individual who is good at management, the avoidance of controversy, smooth administration and loyalty to the structure.
One of the current problems in the Church of England is that many of the values esteemed by the hierarchical leadership cohort, are not well-equipped to deal with the safeguarding crisis. Those good at management and administration, those who are ‘safe’, are probably not the best people to place in a situation where there is a lot of trauma and hurt. The Church has taken a look at the terrible events of the past and has decided to set a variety of formal initiatives including new appointments. To put it another way, the Church is using the value system articulated by the highly institutionalised ‘safe’ personality type to tackle a problem that would be better handed over to the emotionally literate, pastorally minded, even though, sometimes, less organised personalities. One thing I have said many times on this blog is the fact that there appear to be no individuals with proper psychotherapeutic qualifications anywhere near the centre of the Church’s safeguarding structures.
When an individual, wounded by a traumatic episode caused by a member of the Church takes their plea for help to a senior person, they may expect certain things. They expect to be heard; they expect the person they speak to to have emotional intelligence to understand something of what they are describing. By telling deeply personal material to another person, they will be retraumatised if the human compassion element is absent in the other person. If all that can be offered is the atrophied emotional response of someone honed within a managerial culture, then the possibility of further damage will be massive. On present showing, the statistical chances of meeting a non-empathetic manager-type in the person of a bishop, archdeacon or safeguarding officer are high. From the accounts that reach me, it appears that professional safeguarding officers, who do have psychological and empathetic skills, burn out very fast. They find the context in which much of the top level of Church decision-making and administration is done, very hard to adjust to. The reason for this emotionally atrophied culture existing at all is, sadly, to be laid at the door of those who have deliberately promoted the efficient managerial culture rather than one which is prophetic, pastoral, and passionate. People who foster this latter form of culture do not fit the current models of what a leader should look like in the Church of England.
In writing this blog post, I have found myself realising that the people in charge of safeguarding and Church leadership in this area will often fail to have the human qualities that are most needed for this type of work. Safeguarding and Christian shepherding and leadership should require, from those who undertake such work, a high degree of skill, together with those qualities that we (and the public) recognise as Christian. Words like kindness, empathy, compassion, and human understanding all crowd in and should all form part of the skill set for people who do this work. By contrast the survivors seem to meet individuals who singularly lack such skills/qualities. The skills they do have seem to centre around efficiency, administrative competence, and the ability to organise well. These latter qualities are commendable but, if they are combined with emotional atrophy, they can be highly destructive and dangerous to the whole organisation. One (among many) of the scandals revealed recently in the Church of England is the one where a range of leaders have allowed the pain of Smyth victims to be buried in the cause of trying to save the wider organisation embarrassment. Reputation against pastoral need? The repeated choice by many Church leaders to place institutional reputation above the needs of suffering individuals can only be described as an outworking of emotional atrophy. Sadly, it still goes on, which suggests that this is an affliction which may take the Church some time to recover from, if it ever does.