Mr. Martin Sewell, 8 Appleshaw Close, Gravesend, Kent, DA11 7PB

To:     Marsha De Cordova MP, Second Estates Commission, House of Commons.

           Dr. Helen Earner, Senior Director, Charity Commission, London.

           Richard Moriarty, Financial Reporting Council, London.

cc:      Archbishops’  Council (AC), General Synod Members (GSM), National Safeguarding Team (NST) of the Church of England (CofE), London.

22^nd May 2025

Dear Marsha, Helen and Richard,

I write as a member of the General Synod of the Church of England who has taken a special interest in the injustices of victims of abuse at the hands of the Church of England (CofE). I have been a primary advocate for their grievances, and I believe I enjoy a significant degree of trust in articulating their concerns to which I have listened with care and respect.

In this letter I raise matters of widespread disquiet not only of victims but also of a

significant number of Synod members in relation to the financing and functioning of CofE safeguarding operations. Ordinarily such a letter would be directed to the trustees (Archbishops’ Council – AC) of the national structures as the responsible body. However, all trust and confidence in the governance of the CofE – whether General Synod (GS), the NST or AC – is broken. We have seen that when serious issues of probity and legal process are raised, together with fiscal accountability and proper transparency, the issues are sidestepped or covered up.  

There is now cogent evidence to believe that examples of legal and fiscal malpractice have occurred and have not been properly addressed. So, on behalf of seriously concerned parties I now ask that, as a matter of urgency, you formally initiate investigation of these concerns.  In summary, the primary concerns are as follows

1. Payouts for interim support allegedly made by the CofE to abuse victims, and featured in their public audited accounts, do not accord with the monies which victims claim that they have actually received. The evidence for these alleged discrepancies has been made available for analysis by the victims. Whether the issue is one of unclear presentation, faulty process, technical error or worse, victims receiving payments must be entitled to a clear explanation to address their concerns. 

I am authorized to send you prima facie evidence on condition that I secure your agreement to investigate the matters, consult with the victims and provide them with your findings on these alleged disparities in the audited accounts. 

• A public letter and Press release have been issued by the Church’s victims of abuse. (See: https://survivingchurch.org/2025/05/15/press–release–from–isbsurvivors–group/). It speaks in terms of misconduct in public office and mendacity by that Church’s leadership, including the General Synod of which I am a member. Like the Post Office sub-postmasters such accusations need to be properly investigated, and I ask that you do so. Whether or not these are fair accusations, they are heartfelt, and truth must be must at the very least be independently evaluated. The pain and distrust expressed in the letter are plain, the language unattractive, at times but the allegations must not be dismissed on that basis alone.

• Various attempts have been made to bring the Secretary General (and CEO) of the CofE to account for his actions on matters of safeguarding. These have been repeatedly suppressed by the AC, through reference to a secret process described as “private”, within which the form of inquiry itself and the reasoning supporting the “no further action” outcome, remain secret. The Church has repeatedly and publicly asserted that it has repented past cover-ups and that it now embraces and upholds the principles of ‘transparency and accountability’. Yet this is patently untrue in the case of its Chief Executive. An independent report by a professional psychologist complementing the findings of the Wilkinson Review confirmed that the Secretary General had caused “significant harm” to victims. This was submitted to the AC – who effectively chose to ignore the findings.

Another well documented case relates to the Secretary General misleading an abuse survivor and securing the dismissal of a complaint against himself under the same secret process (see: https://www.thinkinganglicans.org.uk/safeguardingbishop–admits–that–survivor–was–misled/). This unaccountability in the principal officer is not a trivial matter and cannot but undermine public confidence in the national institution. Both cases, and the processes by which they were dismissed need to be urgently and independently investigated, not least in respect of why the Audit Committee of the AC has not accorded such matters serious consideration and reported to Synod.  The membership of that committee currently lacks any external member exercising oversight and that fact is itself the subject of victim disquiet and lack of trust.

• Recent work by the late Clive Billenness, a forensic auditor, General Synod member and elected member of the Audit Committee of the AC, showed that potentially falsified and forged evidence presented within the Church’s legal disciplinary process required proper independent investigation. (On this see: https://survivingchurch.org/2024/12/16/the–weaponization–of–safeguarding/). The case represents a prime example of ‘the weaponization of safeguarding’ referenced in the Jay Report. Similar accusation has been identified in other cases relating to innocent CofE clergy, notably the late Revd. Alan Griffin who had committed suicide in consequence (c.f. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk–englandlondon–58326903).  Such weaponization resulted in no disciplinary action in either case being taken against the alleged perpetrators. The prima facie findings of Clive Billenness must be independently tested.

The letter of the ISB Survivors Group – to whom the CofE promised swift justice more than two years ago – demonstrates that all statements on CofE safeguarding made by its Lead Safeguarding Bishop, the Archbishops or trustees (AC) are now viewed with distrust and disdain. All attempts to secure accountability transparency and justice have failed.  No part of the institution functions properly honourably and consistently for its victims. No resolution is currently in sight.

I formally request that the recipients of this letter, as the only relevant external regulators, initiate the urgent investigations now required. There can be no confidence restored in the operation of the charity (i.e., the Archbishops’ Council) until the regulators initiate proper action.

This is an Open Letter, in order that parishes, congregations and churches, and those engaged in any other related charitable work and its governance, can be reassured that when extremely serious matters of fiscal probity and conduct in governance are raised, the public

can see that the statutory regulating bodies will act. I have copied the letter to the Archbishops’ Council and to the members of General Synod.

Yours sincerely,  

Martin Sewell

by Martyn Percy

In a famous scene from The Matrix movie, there is moment which offers a tantalizing insight into drugs that have the power to awaken any pill-popper to three quite different hidden realities. A red pill inducts the consumer into a world of secret right-wing truths. A white pill will persuade the user that the situation of the wider world is rather better than you had imagined. A black pill, once digested, tells you know just how doomed we really are.

It is hardly a hidden reality that the story of the Church of England in the 21^st century has been largely shaped by a cocktail of black and white pills. In just 25 years there have been countless prophecies of doom, with alarm bells ringing to announce the next imminent crisis (i.e., pensions, vocations, ageing-dwindling congregations, soaring costs, abuse scandals, etc) that are of the black pill variety.  And there have been legions of initiatives that are white-pilled, and purport to reverse every negative trend.  The result is a church addicted to prescriptions and remedies in ever-higher dosage that boasts every shade of grey.

At the same time, there are a handful of commentators who only see red pills, as though the Church of England was being taken over by a small handful of right-wing ideologies. Personally, I doubt this very much. The Church of England and the wider global Anglican church is simply being consumed by process. Executive managerialism has become the parasite of eating the organism from the inside. What the church once consumed is now consuming it from within. This is a church being hollowed out by processes it neither comprehends – nor can expel.

The last time the Papal office and the Archbishop of Canterbury role were both vacant simultaneously was 334 years ago. Canterbury was vacated after the then-Archbishop was refused to swear allegiance to William and Mary and the office vacant between February 1690 and May 1691. The Papacy was also vacant following the death of Pope Alexander VIII in February 1691, with a new Pope not elected until 161 days later.

Modern conclaves tend to be rather quicker.  Cardinals will hear about the death of a Pontiff within moments of his passing.  The cardinals can gather fast, and the demands of a media age probably means they get down to business quickly.  Even with over 130 voting members of the conclave, the selection of Pope Leo XIV took just four rounds of voting over two days to emerge as the chosen candidate. The white smoke is an emoji to signal the new era.

The process for choosing the next Archbishop of Canterbury could hardly be more different. Having agreed to resign in November 2024, the process for selecting a successor to Justin Welby has quickly lurched from tragedy to farce. There is a dispute over the nominated electors from Canterbury Diocese, and a further dispute over the rules to elect the electors. The likelihood of a name emerging by the autumn seems slim, even though there are only 17 people on the committee to make this decision.  The committee is another aspect of the Church of England’s Grey-sphere.

If a picture is worth around a thousand words, then the images of all the cardinals gathered in identical kit for the funeral of Pope Francis and then for the conclave to elect Pope Leo XIV are telling.  And certainly, when compared to the last Lambeth Conference for Anglican bishops gathered from across the world.

The conclave and its attendant public liturgies presented an impressive regiment of imperial uniform (red robes eerily resonant of Atwood’s Handmaid’s Tale). Unity and uniformity are dress coded. The Anglican gathering, in contrast, looks more like a liturgical garage sale and charity shop rummage. Little matches. Disunity and diversity are dress coded too. Bishops wear what they want.  Some bishops – notably Sydney Archdiocese – decline to wear liturgical attire at all, if it can be avoided.

In contrast, the pictures of the funeral for Pope Francis could have been lifted from a well-choreographed scene in the Star Wars movies. The zoned marshalling in St. Peter’s Square represents an expression of imperial ordering. Yet at the same time, framed by ordinary mourners expressing their gratitude for their Pope and Father in God.

At the Conclave in Rome

The Lambeth Conference

The contrast between a conclave (the term means, literally, ‘a locked room’) to elect a Pope and the committee set up to choose a new Archbishop of Canterbury are as night and day. The former is rooted in two millennia of prayer-soaked practice. The latter is a secular process with an added spiritual gloss. Yet the committee will be just as secret.

The body charged with choosing the next Archbishop of Canterbury represents a hangover from an English colonial civil service culture where key decisions and appointments are made behind closed doors in some private smoke-filled room of a London club. Take away the smoke and the club for 21^st century sensibilities, and you’re essentially left with the same process. True, there is a nod to democracy (though the nominees given the task of electing are currently the subject of dispute). Yet as a committee, there is more opacity than one might encounter at a conclave.

What can’t be addressed by the next incumbent of Lambeth Palace is the unresolved nature of the Church of England’s identity. Since 1834 many Anglicans have bought into the myth that it has two pedigrees. On the one hand it is Protestant Reformed. On the other hand, it is Catholic. Some Anglicans go further, and entertain fantasies of reunion with Rome, forgetting that the core theology of the Church of England is Reformed Protestantism, and that the Head of the Church is the reigning English monarch, not the occupant of the Vatican.

This confusion of identity cuts no ice at the proverbial Church-Crufts Show. Anglicanism is a hybrid; a mongrel denomination that is sartorially and liturgically Catholic (sometimes), but theologically and organisationally Protestant (sometimes). Anglican Bishops dressed in purple are left stranded in the middle, trying to hold together two slowly bifurcating tectonic plates. Today, most English Anglican Bishops enjoy unchecked executive power, but with almost no pedigree of theological nous. Their real authority lies in pastoral praxis, but few have the energy to inhabit that aspect of their role. Bishops are often found to be desk-bound bureaucrats, firing off emails and issuing shiny-white-pill policy documents with fanciful vision statements, warding off the panic attack side-effects of corporate black-pill addiction.

The next incumbent of Lambeth Palace could do worse and take an honest and serious look at the identity issues that have lain unaddressed since the Church of England divorced itself from Rome in 1534.  Anglicanism is essentially a branch of Protestantism.  True, and unlike other Reformed churches, Anglicans kept their bishops and some of its clergy and churches continue to adapt their liturgies and clerical dress codes from Rome. Others do not, and opt for a more ‘happy-clappy’ style of worship. There is no central power or authority in Anglican polity to counter the exercise of such freedoms and unable to police its diversity.

There is no liturgical uniformity.  There is no central system of canon law. Many Anglican Provinces do not require affirmation of the thirty-nine articles of faith. Some Provinces have outlawed liturgical practices and clerical attire that became fashionable through Victorian ritualism. Theologically and organisationally, Anglicanism is essentially a Protestant expression of Christianity. Some Anglican churches will avoid using the prayer of confession in liturgy. Others have liturgies of baptism that feel more like a service of exorcism.

What the Church of England needs is serious authentic clarity. It is time to stop pretending that global Anglicanism is like Roman Catholicism, and in the same global orbit. It isn’t. This current process to choose a new Archbishop of Canterbury cannot possibly inspire confidence or attract affection, trust or faith. The committee is a crystallisation of the confused mindset that reflects the state that the Church of England finds itself in. Like the black-white pill cocktail, a committee-led process is bound to produce yet another shade of grey.

The next Archbishop cannot come from a conclave. Nor, alas, can she or he emerge from the kinds of democratic, open and transparent election processes that some other parts of global Anglicanism have adopted for electing bishops.  An elitist English Anglican establishment will always shy away from egalitarian ecclesiology. But if the Church of England were to own its Protestant identity more explicitly, it might find that a genuinely democratic synod would attract far more public support than some secretive committee ever could.

PRESS RELEASE – FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

DATE: 14^th May 2025

Survivors of Church Abuse Demand Action from the Archbishop of York

The ISB Survivors Group has today issued the attached open letter to the Archbishop of York.

We are survivors of abuse within the Church of England. We are the very individuals who were promised independent reviews by the Church, following the Independent Inquiry into child sexual abuse (IICSA). Many of us had already begun our reviews through the Independent Safeguarding Board (ISB) — until the Archbishops’ Council abruptly dismissed the ISB Board Members, halting the process and denying us the justice we were due.

Our group includes IICSA core participants, survivors of Bishop Peter Ball, and victims of John Smyth, amongst others. Some of us have been battling for our complaints — including those against senior bishops and Archbishops’ Council members — to be heard for over 30 Years.

It has now been almost two years since the dismissal of the ISB Board. No meaningful or credible alternatives for resuming our reviews have been proposed. While the Archbishop of York has agreed to meet with us, he continues to refuse discussion of the very issues we need to address.

For 23 months, we have been left without any independent support. The Church’s proposed

“independent” support included individuals closely connected to the National Safeguarding Team (NST) — a blatant conflict of interest. The “independent” advocate assigned to survivors worked directly for the Church of England. One other complication is that the Archbishop of York’s own behaviour would be subject to scrutiny in the very reviews that he is effectively preventing from progressing.

We are exhausted by the Church’s failure to act and by what we perceive as manipulative stalling from both the Archbishop of York and the deeply discredited National Safeguarding Team. The re-abuse and cruelty needs to stop.

Our lives have already been shattered by horrific, sadistic, and systemic abuse. We will not tolerate continued mistreatment from an institution that professes to follow Christ.

Media Contact:

Name: Marie-Louise Flanagan – independent press spokesperson

Email: marie-louise@step2mediation.com

Phone: 07498 847665

An Open letter to The Archbishop of York and Archbishops Council

Dear Archbishop Cottrell,

STRICTLY WITHOUT PREJUDICE

We are in receipt of your communication sent to Dame Jasvinder Sanghera in early February and after much consideration individually, as well having met as a group, are now ready to reply. All of us agreed that the best word to describe your letter was “abusive” and that consequently need to say that we find that it impossible to see Jesus in you.

Your abusive letter has made us realize that if we were to engage any further with you, even with the assistance of others, or to engage with your fellow members of the Archbishops’ Council, their agents (let alone your utterly discredited and menacing national safeguarding staff), that there is a substantial risk that it might be seen by others as a sign that it was perhaps safe for them to engage with you in any way. However, it is very clear to us, having read and deliberated upon the contents of your letter, that there is a very high risk that you potentially expose us to experiencing substantially worse further trauma that would cause us (already victims of sexual and spiritual abuse from your organization) irreparable and in some cases even mortal harm.

Archbishop Cottrell, we see you as a diabolical monster bent on causing us further harm and after receiving your letter we shall not communicate with you, your colleagues or agents any further: quite simply we do not believe it would be safe for us to do so. Consequently, we strongly advise any other vulnerable man, woman or child also to keep away from you and your discredited organization – one that seems to delight in its core business of causing everincreasing violence against those who are vulnerable.

You use the word “robust” to describe safeguarding in your church, however your often repeated use of this word merely means to us an escalation in the abuse that we continue to receive from you and your business organization. For many of us, we see in you an individual worse than Bishop Peter Ball or John Smyth –  indeed some of us wonder whether your desire to harm us is based in a similar perversion of Jesus and His love.

Christians are supposed to show the Light of Christ but in you, Archbishop Cottrell, we see merely darkness – no doubt your insistence to meet with Dame Jasvinder Sanghera and Mr Reeves “on a private and confidential basis” would also be held by you in the dark – a refuge to which you are perhaps unseemingly more inclined than the Light of Jesus.

Finally, as for your “apologies to all survivors for the trauma they have experienced” and that you wish to “seek to find a way forward to minimize any further trauma to the group” (failing to mention seeking to address the substantial harm you, your colleagues and business agents have already caused), from our own experience we simply do not believe a word of it and never will – nor arguably should anyone else. 

We suggest that you appoint a TRULY Independent Alternative Dispute Resolution (ADR) to move things forward URGENTLY. 

Yours sincerely,

The ISB SURVIVORS GROUP

The past 48 hours in the news cycle make life very hard for a blog writer trying to keep up.  A matter of hours ago the only Pope being discussed was the one who had died on Easter Monday, and whose funeral had created the powerful image of two leaders having an informal meeting in St Peter’s Rome.  For all its importance, that image of Trump and Zelensky seated facing one another in the Basilica has been swept away by many new images from Rome, cheering crowds and signs of enthusiasm from Catholics all over the world.  Many non-Catholics, including myself, have been delighted to see the juggernaut of extreme right-wing ideas, as embodied by the MAGA forces of Trump, brought to a halt momentarily.  This continues the trend shown in the welcome election results in Canada and Australia.  The democratic instincts of ordinary people, which include a body of conservative men voting in the conclave in Rome, have reassured us that a worldwide drift towards fascism is not after all the will of the mass of people.  We can after all look forward to a future where liberal humane values exist and democratic instincts, despite the way they create untidiness in society, still prevail.

Pope Leo has indicated that he will, in his choice of name and his past record, be likely to keep many of the emphases of his predecessor alive.  This will include care for the poor, refugees and those marginalised by unjust systems, whether political or economic.  As has come to be expected of the majority of senior church figures of every denomination, his record of care for survivors and the pursuit of justice on their behalf is not flawless.  There is an incident recorded in Wikipedia page for Leo which indicates a preference to preserve the reputation of the church institution over the imperatives of justice.  This ‘scandal’ will be mulled over by many people. I mention it, not as a way of suggesting that the appointment should not have been made, but rather to observe that every single Papal candidate in his past will likely have some safeguarding lapse buried, but not forgotten. 

It is with the expectation that, at best, every candidate will have had a mixed record over safeguarding, that we can look back over the reign of Pope Francis and forward to that of Pope Leo.  Many eulogies have been made over Francis but repeating them is not the task of this blog.  What I find interesting is in the way that the good in Francis could be combined with aspects of failure, even evil.  Seeing only the good in someone is always going to create a one-sided, even distorted picture.  This would be the same for any of our lives.  Failing to even comment on serious failings in a person’s life may create an unhealthy situation.  The process of grieving is unlikely to be completed if there is a family myth which members are desperate to preserve at all costs.   To take an imaginary situation which will reflect what most clergy have witnessed.  Grandpa’s cruel behaviour towards his wife over 40 years of marriage has to be hushed up.   The family are not just rallying round to protect the family from the taint of scandal.  They are also aware that any discussion of Grandpa’s unacceptable behaviour will show up a part of the family in their failure to do more to challenge this behaviour and protect Grandma.  Listening to eulogies that are effectively ‘fake news’ is painful and in some way corrupting in equal measure.

Those who will study and scrutinise the life and reputation of Francis have plenty of material to assimilate and discuss.  The question as to whether he struck the right balance in relating to the dictatorial regime of Argentina, when Archbishop of Buenos Aires, will be a topic for historians for many decades to come.  For the purpose of this reflection, the focus is not on his skill in managing to negotiate a path through the tortuous path of Argentinian politics, but whether he served the cause of the victims and survivors of clerical abuse – a situation of enormous shame and harm to the work of the Catholic Church in every part of the world.

I write about child abuse in the Catholic Church with absolutely no desire to sound triumphalist by comparing it with the record of other communions, like the Anglican Church.  No church of any denomination emerges particularly well from the hundreds of cases that have come to light over the past 25 years or so.  While one can argue about the extent of the problem in comparing Catholic and Anglicans, the important question is perhaps which Communion is further ahead in actually dealing with the problem more effectively.  The death of Pope Francis and the new arrival of Pope Leo has brought to the surface once more the cry of survivors and their demand to be heard.  These suggest that late Pope said many of the right things about abuse, spending time with victims and expressing sorrow over their suffering.   Somehow, he seldom seems to have followed up his words with decisive action.   The BBC website carried a story about a woman called Alexa MacPherson who suffered sexual abuse from a RC priest for as long as six years from the age of three.   The priest was eventually sentenced by a court to a period in jail.  What horrified Alexa when she examined the paperwork connected with the case as an adult, was the way that the Church had used its power and influence to obtain favours from the justice system to mitigate the sentence of the offending priest.  The case was one of many that involved the intervention of Cardinal Bernard Law.  Cardinal Law, always anxious to protect the reputation of the institution above checking the poison of clerical abuse, was allowed to find refuge in Rome, being put in charge of a prestigious parish.  He died in 2018, effectively exonerated from his gross failures of care.  Francis did not ever take any action against him but allowed him to remain in post despite his notoriety in the eyes of the public.

 In writing this reflection, I would not want to claim that the record of Catholic bishops and priests is either better or worse than that of Anglicans.  Both hierarchies are guilty of causing terrible suffering to children and vulnerable individuals by a combination of incompetence, sloth and wilful neglect.  To say that the powerful were in the business of preserving the less powerful and the institutions that they worked for is probably not far off the mark as a generalisation.  Where there is a contrast, and this applies to the Catholic Church under Pope Francis, is the attitude shown by senior UK Catholic leaders when faced with the appalling crimes of some of the priests under their oversight.  There were, it is true.,Anglican bishops, such as Eric Kemp of Chichester, who wrapped protective blankets around clergy clearly guilty of crimes.  Their capacity for creating a toxic dangerous culture for the young only stretched to the boundary of their dioceses.  The potential harm that a Pope can do, with a flawed sense of the importance of sticking up for potential victims, is enormous. Francis seems to have been successful at saying the pastorally sensitive words to the survivors, but he seems much less competent at confronting and disciplining those guilty of appalling crimes of abuse.

The UK government report on crimes of child abuse (ICSA) tried to bring into the open the record of Anglican and Catholic attempts to hide away the incidence of child abuse within their structures.  Both Churches had their stories of pain and cruelty committed against young innocent individuals, but the Catholic Church showed itself far less cooperative in releasing documents and generally sharing information which would assist an important Government body to have a full picture.  The Church hierarchy believed that such cooperation would contravene Canon Law and that such non-cooperation was permitted on the grounds that the instructions of the Vatican have the protection afforded to any foreign state.  This refusal to cooperate belied the words of Francis who, in May 2019 had said there needed to be “concrete and effective actions that in involve everyone in the Church” regarding its approach to child sexual abuse. 

It now remains to be seen whether the new Pope will deliver on the implied concern of his predecessor over the need to act in respect of child abuse.  Will he put the need for providing justice and healing for those in pain or will he continue to prioritise the glory and privileges of the Catholic Church?  History will eventually tell us which path is to be followed.

by Anon

Damon is an apprentice devil tasked with learning to undermine and weaken the Church of England and wider Anglicanism. Lucius is a senior devil mentoring apprentices overseeing the work on all denominations. Lucius refers to the Church of England as the ‘English Patient’. Lucius is particularly keen to encourage the Church of England’s peculiar ecclesionomics, bloated ecclesiocracy and unaccountable episcocrats. Lucius draws on C. S. Lewis’ Screwtape Letters, published in 1942. These letters are published by Lucius for the benefit of new apprentices. – Lucius.

One Swallow Does Not Make a Summer

Dear Lucius

I am getting very concerned about statistics. Or rather, what Anglicans seem to be reading into them.  There was some recent research appearing to show a resurgence – even a resurrection, it alarms me to say – in younger people coming to church. Apparently the trend is most notable amongst young men. 

I know I shouldn’t panic, because if the figures are to be believed (which is debatable), the upturn in numbers is only slight, and anyway confined to Pentecostalism, Catholicism and some fashionable Ultra-Reformed churches. These churches are not my responsibility. But I do worry that the talk of growth is stimulating Anglican morale, which concerns me.

Could you give me some sort of guidance on how to tackle this?  I’d like to nip it in the bud before it gets out of hand, and I think I need some strategic advice on what tactics to deploy if we are to undermine any apparent recovery.

Your Servant, Damon

Dear Damon,

You need not worry. One swallow does not make a summer, and these new numbers are, as you say, barely relevant to the primary focus of your work, which is the Church of England – the one we call the ‘English Patient’. If anything, the best thing to do now is to encourage English Anglicans in their belief that things are getting better.  The mirage will soon vaporise, leading to an even deeper decline in trust and confidence.

Sometimes it is helpful to see figures and statistics in a broader context.  I think you are aware that, recently, over 700 clergy wrote a letter to complain about their appalling pensions.  The English Patient’s finances are in a dreadful state. Most dioceses run massive annual deficits. Many cathedrals cannot break even. However, the episcopacy taxes the parishes even more, despite fewer people paying the quota.  It leads to an ever-deepening crisis of resentment and mistrust, which your predecessor did so much to cultivate. A few extra young people, if indeed there are any, won’t turn that tide.

You may recall that overall, the bloated ecclesiocracy and unaccountable episcocrats are just not trusted by the faithful.  Your English Patient is actually very poorly, but thankfully for us, in total denial about how unwell, what the sickness is, and how to restore their health.

Happily, they are clueless. More modish marketing and communications, evangelism, youth initiatives, vocation drives and stewardship schemes are all being pushed hard.  This is good news for us, because it deepens the alienation and despair, and also means the English Patient loses trust and confidence in all the remedies the leadership keeps on promoting.

It is also important to remember the scale of your problem.  We only need one apprentice to work with your patient, English Anglicanism, because it is so very small. But it continues to believe it is a Very Important And Big Long-term Enterprise (VIABLE). Helpfully for us, your English Patient imagines itself to be eternal, so the gaps between fantasy and reality keep causing your patient to have even more doubts.

You might like to look at the Roman Catholic Cycle of Prayer and compare it to the Anglican Cycle of Prayer for comfort and context. We have a very large team working on Roman Catholicism.

The Catholics have 3200 dioceses and 650 archdioceses, 225,000 parishes, over 400,000 priests, 50,000 permanent deacons, 650,000 monks and nuns, and nearly 3,000,000 catechists for their 1.3 billion followers. But it manages to get by with only 5,340 bishops. Believers who use the Roman Catholic Cycle of Prayer will pray for nine dioceses, daily.

The Anglicans have around 55 million followers (they’ll claim 80 million to big up their size, but that includes 25 million in England, where attendance is down to just over 0.5 million, and two-thirds of the laity are retired people). Your English Patient has too many dioceses and bishops for too few believers.

Global Anglicanism has 855 dioceses, which means believers pray for around two of them each day when using the Anglican Cycle of Prayer. Yes, Anglicans are small potatoes.  Globally, Roman Catholics outnumber Anglicans by over 25:1. In percentages, Anglicans constitute about 3.5% of what Roman Catholicism represents. Anglicanism is 96.5% smaller.

However, your VIABLE Anglican Communion has amassed almost 900 bishops, despite its small size. There is one bishop for every 0.25 million Roman Catholics. Yet there is one Anglican bishop for every 60,000 from your denomination. Not for nothing is your English Patient known as ‘Episcopalian’ outside England.  It seems that when it comes to bishops, they just cannot get enough of them.

These numbers should comfort you.   The global population of Roman Catholicism is rising. Global Anglicanism is declining. This is largely due to birth rates, but your denomination continues to invest in recruitment drives hoping to attract newcomers to the Anglican family.

It is helpful to our cause that your English Patient believes it is in recovery, and can reverse decline.  And they won’t take any lessons from other declining denominations, because they think they are a special case. Your English Patient lives in two parallel conflicting universes. One knows it is declining. The other has to believe it isn’t, and the recession is only some blip.

Even more helpfully, your English Patient thinks it is on some par with Roman Catholicism. This fantasy should be strongly encouraged, because eventually reality will dawn, leading to deeper collapses in morale, trust and confidence.

But best of all, Anglicans fight amongst themselves about why, who or what is responsible for their decline. They will fight even more about who, what, how and when is the best way to recover.

As we’ve discussed before, Damon, your best bet here is to encourage the church leaders who claim to have all the answers.  We are blessed that your English Patient has many such people within its leadership, with the ecclesiocracy and episcocrats constantly trying to apply the Midas Touch to their truly dire ecclesionomics.

Above all, it is vital that we do all we can to support the English Patient in their belief that they have the best-equipped persons to make their own diagnoses and prognoses, promoting and manufacturing their remedies and therapies.

The English Patient thinks it does not need a doctor, and if it is unwell, it will eventually shake off the aches, fevers and other symptoms and soon be on the mend.

You must do all you can to encourage the English Patient in their belief that they are exceptional and unique, and don’t need any outside interference or help from real experts.  That way, tens of millions of pounds can be spent on safeguarding, for example, or on other initiatives that are bound to be a waste of time, effort and money, since your English Patient always thinks it knows best. Just let them carry on.

One swallow does not make a summer, and all this talk of growth and resurgence is like a single spring day in the midst of a long, hard winter that shows no sign of ending.

As the population of England grows, vocations continue to decrease – because clergy have few rights, too much responsibility, little support, and pitiful stipends and pensions to look forward to. Volunteers for roles in parishes are also declining.

The ecclesiocracy and episcocrats have created a church where the bosses are secure, unaccountable, unregulated, and generally well-paid. But the clergy and volunteers are over-regulated, accountable for virtually everything, and have never felt more undervalued and vulnerable.

Even if a few more young people were hanging out with your English Patient, all the interminable fudging on sexuality and gender means they won’t stay long and throw their weight behind the institution. Swallows come and go.

So, Damon, there’s no need to worry. The best thing to do with the English Patient is to keep an eye out for any significant changes. But otherwise leave the leaders to their own devices and desires. They will inflict more damage on their church than we could ever engineer.  Keep affirming their egos that they are VIABLE and the best-placed people to resolve crises of their own making. They believe and act as though they are a law unto themselves. The longer this continues, the faster they will decline.

Your Mentor, Lucius.

By Anon

The Easter Season once again brings no good news for the victims of abuse at the hands of the Church of England, and for those who have been harmed by its continuing betrayals, failures and dishonesty over safeguarding. In his Easter message for The Times (Credo, April 19), the Archbishop of York wrote of Gaza, Ukraine and Sudan, and the despair of its victims.  He was unable to see that the horrors, injustices and abuses abroad in the wider world happen in the Church of England too. Yet he offered no Easter hope for those caught up in never-ending cycles of abuse and cover-ups inside his own institution. The Archbishop’s Easter message was addressed to the world, ignoring all those still captive to the abuses perpetrated within his church. So we have rewritten his Credo homily (barely changing a word), but merely altering the subject.

“As John tells it in his Gospel, Jesus’s resurrection was met first with darkness and weeping. In times of uncertainty and upheaval, this detail frees us to see that lament and hope are not, after all, mutually exclusive.

When Easter arrives in John’s Gospel, it arrives amid darkness. Jesus’s body is gone from the grave. The moment is quiet, utterly unprecedented, and completely bewildering. And it brings the first witness to tears.

These tears are those of Jesus’s friend Mary Magdalene, shed as she desperately seeks him. Finding the tomb empty, she comes to the only reasonable conclusion: someone has stolen his body. Mary sobs. And yet soon she will come to recognise a seeming stranger to be Jesus himself.

That recognition dawns with Jesus’s soft speaking of her name, “Mary”. This gentle and intimate moment distils the wonder of Easter: tears first shed in sorrow are transformed to tears of joy before they’ve even finished trickling down the contours of Mary’s face. The same tears, transformed from sorrow to joy, are offered for the same Jesus, risen from death to life.

Mary’s tears, shed in anxiety and desolation, mourning, perhaps even in shame or regret, are familiar to many victims of injustice, betrayal, abuse and evil. But she shows us that those who shed tears of lament can do so while persevering in hope, even when tears of joy seem impossibly far off.

By the usual standards, Mary should have given up on Jesus as a catastrophically lost cause: he had been rejected, humiliated, executed, and placed in a tomb. Yet still she turns up in darkness, laments — and finally, wonderfully, finds stubborn hope fulfilled beyond her imagining.

Here, many victims of abuse can identify with both the tortured dead, Jesus, and the mourner who has had all hope and trust removed by a regime hell-bent on easy expediency and perpetrating injustice.

John’s account also emphasises that the risen Christ does not first reveal himself to people of power: not to the Roman governor, nor the chief priest, not even to the senior disciples, but rather to this weeping Mary. She is a victim, as Jesus was.

Jesus stands before her, not robed in finery, but wearing the scars of his torture and death on the Cross. The risen Jesus is greeted by no fanfare, no flourish, no powerful VIP visitors. Instead, he is greeted by Mary Magdalene sobbing amid darkness.

In the battle zones of the Church of England’s safeguarding debacles, and in the barren fields of moral famine we find in episcopacy, the rubble of lives left by the Church of England’s abuses and cover-ups (they never end), tears and darkness are among the very few things not in short supply. The suffering for the victims is beyond comprehension, and yet many people there will greet the dawn of Easter Day with Mary Magdalene’s mixture of lament for their situation and stubborn hope.

Increasingly, however, it seems that those of us who look on the Church of England from afar do so without hope. The temptation is to view these situations as simply intractable, unfixable. Easter dawn reminds us to both lament and hope stubbornly amid this great darkness.

I know that we must not abandon attempts to seek justice in the Church of England. Nor “move on” from our concern for the gross failures in our safeguarding policies and practices. We ought not to tolerate the destruction of victims of abuse as an uncomfortable side-effect of our ministry. Nor should we give up on striving to honour truth in our political and public conversation. But perhaps we should start such conversations inside the Church of England first? Because it’s getting difficult to talk about all the evil in the world when we won’t clean up our own backyard.

The unimaginable triumph of Easter dawned while it was still dark, and it was met with weeping. By lamenting and remaining stubbornly hopeful, Mary Magdalene refused to abandon the cause of good and right even amid confusion and darkness.

Whether or not you celebrate Easter, Mary’s example can help us address the uncertainties and darkness that we face with some stubborn hope. But please remember I am only talking about the wider world here, and not about the Church of England. We prefer to change the subject and look away from our sins and failings inside the church, maintain silence, and keep our deeds covered in the darkness.

At Easter, the last thing we want is the tombs disturbed with piercing truth and light, and the disruption of new life. You’ll have to look elsewhere for that. We like to keep our failures, abuses and sins buried where the public can’t see them.

Commenting later for The Times, Andrew Graystone, an advocate for abuse survivors, said that “trauma doesn’t take holidays”, noting that Easter could be a painful time for those who have been abused and ignored in the church. “The message of Easter is that the route to new life runs through betrayal, pain and death,” he said. “A church that tries to skirt around the harm it has done, or put it aside for a few days to focus on something else, will miss what the Easter story is about. Easter is an opportunity for the church to look evil in the eye, including its own evil.”

The current stand-off in a clash between President Trump and Harvard University is part of a much bigger story than many people realise.  Looking at the dispute in a wider context relates it to the so-called culture wars under way in America. The opposing sides in these wars, representing two ways of understanding the world, can clearly be identified in this Harvard/Trump confrontation.  The defiant stand being taken by Harvard against the Trump administration that seeks to control it, may be seen as a skirmishing before a major, if not historic, battle in that war.

The so-called culture wars which appear in different guises all over the world, refer to the passionate and intense convictions that people have about the way the world is, or should be, changing.  Speaking very generally, one side will look mainly to the past as the key to understanding the present.  Sometimes the past that is evoked is entirely mythical.   American politicians sometimes nostalgically look back to the 50s as time where ‘family values’ were practised.  Much of this nostalgia is romantic and false.  The levels of domestic violence, though hidden, were then tragically high in many countries including the United States.  The Church has its own versions of a gold-tinted past, with memories of packed churches and a place where leaders enjoyed respect and honour from society.  Meanwhile the Church was also presiding over abuse and dark institutions like mother and baby homes, where cruelties were being practised routinely.  Much of the struggle of the culture wars seems to centre around how we deal with the past.  Is it a model for the present or should we always be seeking ways to grow up and beyond our past?  Do we identify, in short, mainly with the forces of conservatism or those of progressivism?  In a political setting we identify this struggle as one between right and left.

The attempt by Donald Trump to undermine all the main institutions of America is a struggle to overwhelm and batter into submission all opposition to his personal vision and his desire to dominate the whole of American society.  I do not want to go down the rabbit hole of discussing motivations for his attempting this massive task, but I observe that this political experiment will take a long time to unravel by a future government.  Trump is, in essence, fighting on behalf of ultra-conservatives to bring back a mythical past when America was great and dominant in the world, both economically and militarily.   It will also enable the massive enrichment of a small band of his cronies, including his family. The fantasy of being omnipotent is also one that many people entertain inside.  It is also the ultimate desire which the narcissist possesses.  To want such control and domination means that one has had to discard all attempts at empathy for others along the way.  Individuals are used and then discarded with no attempt to reward them over a period.  Promises are made and quickly broken when the other individual has served their purpose.   Ultimately Trump is every bit as dangerous as his critics have made out.  He is proving willing to use the entire American nation in his project to fulfil his megalomaniacal aims for complete control.

Where does Harvard come into this?  Harvard University represents a natural ideological centre of opposition to the megalomaniacal ideas of a man like Trump.  It represents an older wiser America, firmly rooted in the real world of history, education, law and science for the past 250 years of its existence.  It was founded in the early 17^th century and was fully exposed to the later Enlightenment tradition that was sweeping over American universities as it was in Europe.  The Enlightenment may not have been the means to discover certainty in every discipline, but it taught the people of Western Europe new intellectual values – the importance of debate and the constant need to challenge presuppositions.  One maxim came to typify this new approach to knowledge and consists of three words.  The saying which sums up so much of this Western intellectual movement of the 18^th century was simply ‘dare to doubt’.   The ability to doubt the received wisdom of the past was for some a deeply unsettling approach to human knowledge.  Most areas of knowledge in the 18^th century were rooted in the tenets handed down from the ancient world.  Even medicine owed as much to reading texts of classical authors and their presuppositions than to current observations of the workings of the human body.  In making these very generalised comments about the Enlightenment, I am aware of straying into areas of study where I have no specialised knowledge.   But one statement which I want to make, which I believe to be broadly true, is that Harvard University can be said to be rooted and nurtured in many of the best principles of Enlightenment thinking.  The same readiness to question and scrutinise ‘authority’ in different forms of knowledge in a critical but open way would be among the values of all universities the world over.  Universities are temples of knowledge but the knowledge they share with their students is one that has been by honed through a constant process of questioning and experiment.  Truth, according to the best minds belonging to our Western universities, among which Harvard has a distinguished place, has truth always to be regarded as a work in progress, not a completed product.

Harvard can act as a shorthand for the methods of seeking truth according to the highest standards of scrutiny that we have in our Western culture.  Within the approaches to truth as practised by the academic word, there will be disagreements and debate, but such disagreement is part of the process.  Gracious disagreement is not to be deplored, but honoured.  There are many who believe that knowledge is to be found using quite different methods of discovery.  Speaking very generally, there are many who will believe that truth is only to be discovered by a fresh scrutiny of the past, as the Renaissance writers and thinkers did.  The achievements of those who rediscovered the classical authors and their views on the world were considerable.  The Renaissance was, however, an incomplete project.  It needed the Enlightenment impulse, with its advances in science, philosophy, law and psychology, to name a few disciplines, to enable our modern Western civilisation to be formed.  This role of universities with their crucial support of Enlightenment values cannot be downplayed.  A challenge to Harvard, and the attempt to destroy the Enlightenment values preserved in its teaching and research right across the board, is an attack on all our values whether or not we have been privileged to have a university education.  I am constantly in awe of the knowledge of people with skills which make modern life possible: engineers, architects and economists.  Any attempt to destroy the credibility of the Enlightenment project threatens and weakens every discipline taught at university level.  Trump’s DOGE project has already halted some vital medical research.   No doubt, the idea of well-educated researchers working in clean laboratories every day offends some who regard education of any kind as elitist.  Book learning does not seem to be widespread among Trump’s followers and enforcers.  Indeed, the demands and attacks on Harvard threaten the entire Enlightenment value system and may remove from America much of what has been achieved in so many areas of life over the past two hundred and fifty years.

Most of the readers of this blog would identify themselves with the Christian label.  Every reader will be aware of ways of identifying with the name Christian which go against any concession to Enlightenment values. For many, the name Christian can only be claimed by those who believe, for example, that the world was created in a week of seven days and that women have no place in ministry. Those who hold to such strict ideas about truth will have little time for the idea that it is possible to change one’s mind about anything in one’s belief system. This position is maintained, even though God himself is recorded several times to have changed his plans, according to the Old Testament.   We call such rigidity of thinking ‘conservative’, especially when there is no room for newness or progression in this way of understanding faith and truth.  It is not difficult to suggest that Trump/Harvard confrontation is rooted in a similar kind tension that we see existing between conservative and progressive Christians.  Speaking for myself, I see a place for conservative views, but I also believe that Scripture and faith allows me to ask questions about the tradition and not be alarmed if some aspects develop and change over time.  The true liberal is anyone who allows this development to take place.  A constant newness is a feature of every culture and set of ideas.  Liberals rejoice in the changing/evolving nature of truth.  It is this liberal value that is embodied by Harvard and the entire Enlightenment project.  The Trump confrontation with Harvard and all the values it represents is an important one.  We follow it with interest and concern.  The clash threatens the whole liberal project of the West and the human values that are contained in the Enlightenment.  The movement may not be perfect from a Christian point of view, as Lesslie Newbigin showed us in the 80s.  But, the complete or partial destruction of Enlightenment values, as Trump is attempting, would be a far greater tragedy.

Most of us have heard of YWAM (Youth with a Mission) and know it to be a large youth centred international organisation devoted to mission and evangelism.  My knowledge of this group did not encourage me to want to look further into its story when I first heard about it a decade ago.  Rumours of mistreatment of volunteer staff members were then circulating.  One particular account did burrow into my memory.  This was the story of a young idealistic volunteer who was working in India, but who became disillusioned with the treatment he was receiving at the hands of YWAM leaders.  The response of the organisation was simply to abandon the volunteer.  He had no money or other means of returning to his home,  which I believe was in Australia.

I would normally hesitate before recounting a story heard a decade ago about an organisation which may be a hostile piece of gossip. I take the risk because although the story I heard may be just that, a rumour, it pales into triviality when set alongside the many other allegations against the group collected by Shanti Das in the Observer last weekend.   The Observer story is in many ways a familiar one, especially for those of us who are familiar with safeguarding stories connected with control in some religious groups.  These seem inevitably to focus on abuse, whether emotional, spiritual or sexual.  The YWAM story appears, from the Observer account, to indicate what we can only describe as cultic exploitation.  The abusers in YWAM, if such they are, seem to be concerned with establishing complete control over their victims.  This enables them to obtain access to a gratification that such control provides.  This pattern is common to the behaviour of cult leaders the world over. 

I retell some of this Observer story of spiritual abuse to show how an ostensibly Christian organisation can put itself in the situation of using cult dynamics, while believing that it is doing God’s work.   There are various danger signs in the Observer description of YWAM that together allow us to refer to it as cultic.  When these danger signs are found in any Christian group, we must be on the alert and aware that we are entering potentially dangerous territory.

The first danger sign is the age issue.  There is nothing intrinsically wrong in recruiting young people from the 18-30 age group to practise Christian evangelism and ministry.   Young people in this age group have not yet settled into family life or careers and so are free to be recruited into a ‘gap-year’ experience as provided by YWAM.   They also possess a great deal of idealism and capacity for self-sacrifice at this stage of their lives.  Youthful health and vitality are also generally more tolerant of the less-than-ideal living conditions that are experienced in poorer parts of the world.   But there is a shadow side to this boundless capacity for self-sacrifice and idealism.  These same qualities, however honourable, make the individual potentially open to abuse and exploitation if there is any rottenness or corruption in the organisation.  In short, where there is human sin there will be a potential for some of those in positions of power to take toxic advantage of those in their charge.  A perennial issue for YWAM, as for any organisation with responsibility for groups of young people being prepared for ministry, is to be alert for this potential for abuse among the trainers.  No amount of high-sounding Christian rhetoric can remove this possible evil, even in organisations dedicated to the highest of values.  Only safeguarding vigilance and a realistic understanding of human nature will make such organisations consistently safe and free from the toxic effects of controlling abuse.

There are two salient factors that have allowed toxic abuse to find a home in YWAM’s method of operation.  One is a practical issue brought about by geography.  If you remove a group of young people to a centre in an alien unfamiliar culture and many miles from home, you inevitably increase a sense of vulnerability and dependency in these individuals.  The greater the vulnerability, the more the dislocated youngster is likely to develop a potentially unhealthy dependence on leaders.  A second method for creating a dependency on an organisation is by insisting on an adherence to an authoritarian understanding of scripture.  In the case of YWAM and numerous similar organisations, the teaching will include a reactionary stance on all things to do with sexuality.  There seems to be an unhealthy focus on compelling YWAM members in group ‘confession’ sessions to open up and admit any deviance from the conservative understanding of sexuality within their personal lives.  It does not take much imagination to see such compulsory ‘confession’ as a weapon of control.  Quite apart from what any of us think about the LGBTQ issue, it cannot be right to use the sexual preferences of an individual as a means of controlling them through the imposition of shame and guilt.  This is what appears to have been a regular pattern in the YWAM group meetings.

The YWAM culture of coercion and control that the Observer article describes is very similar to the dynamics of a cult.  It is one thing to teach and believe a set of attitudes about human sexuality.  It is quite another to impose those beliefs on others using the tools of social shame and the threat of ostracism.  This kind of compulsory groupthink is typical of cults. Whether or not my anecdote about the Australian young man abandoned in India by YWAM is literally true, it represents a sense of dread that a young person might feel when tempted to question those in authority.  To describe YWAM as a cult is simply to indicate that within this group non-conformity is impossible.  Such suppression of identity is, most of us would claim, a denial of an essential human freedom.  The freedom to be a dissident is a fundamental human right.   Maturity is gained through questioning and exploration, not through the surrender of one’s intellect to the dictates of an authoritarian conservative mind-set.

The Observer article is, for a change, not a narrative about sexual abuse and exploitation.  It does, however, lay bare the vulnerability of idealistic young people to harm.  These, in the name of Christian ideals, sacrifice an important stage in their lives to a cultic group.  At best they can extract some positive learning out of their experience, and this may include some insight about the power of groups to take over control of young lives.  At worst, there may be a completely messed up set of values in the head, which puts a permanent block on the ability to understand sexuality and healthy human relationships.  If even half the claims of control in the Observer are true, it represents the imposition of an enormous burden on a substantial cohort of young people at a vulnerable stage in their lives.  If such damage is routinely happening at YWAM, we might ask which other branches of the church are treating young people with the same recklessness and potential damage to their lives.  Abuse is not just about sex and finance.  It is often about damage to trust and the ability to make healthy meaningful relationships with God and with others.  To damage that ability is to create real and lasting harm.

Message for blog post:

Do you have a personal connection to Iwerne camps or have material related to it? I’ve been contacted by someone conducting research in this area and they would be very interested to hear from you. Please get in touch with me directly on parsvic2@gmail.com to learn more.

by Martyn Percy

Source: https://www.statista.com/statistics/369115/marriages-in-england-and-wales-by-type-of-ceremony/

We, as a nation, have now passed the fifth anniversary of Covid-19. Stay at home. Avoid meeting others. Churches locked. Bishops conducting online services from their kitchens, ritually sanitising their hands (even though nobody was communicated). Dominic Cummings driving to Barnard Castle for some reason or other. Funerals restricted to a handful of mourners. People dying in care homes, with loved ones only able to  press their noses against the window in those final hours. The Prime Minister being admitted to hospital and coming close to death. The daily ritual of banging pots and pans for the NHS, arguably the national secular-sacred faith of the realm.

We all have memories of Covid-19 and the two periods of lockdown, punctuated by “eat out to help out”. But as a recent op-ed in The Economist noted,

“Coronavirus in Britain is a story of individual grief and collective amnesia. The fifth-anniversary commemorations on March 9th, which had been designated a “Day of Reflection” by the government, were dignified but modest. In London relatives of the deceased threw carnations into the Thames, as a piper played a lament. Around them, joggers plodded, tourists gawped and drinkers toasted the first pint of the day in glorious spring sunshine. This is a sentimental country, where Armistice commemorations seem to grow bigger each year and new statues are erected to local heroes. But mention the pandemic, the biggest calamity in living memory, and you will be met by a wince and a change of subject. The memory is less of the neighbourliness and Zoom yoga, more of bitterness and boredom…”

A BBC Survey published on 25 March 2025 estimates that as many as 1:10 may have Long-Covid. That’s around 5.5 million in England alone (https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/c93ker0kevpo). Long-Covid is a new condition which is still being studied. The most common symptoms of Long-Covid include  fatigue, difficulty breathing, problems with concentration and memory, aches and pains.  Other symptoms include disruption to senses (i.e., such as smell, hearing, taste, etc.), chest pains, difficulty sleeping (insomnia), depression and anxiety, feeling sick, loss of appetite and persistent headaches.

Of course, the CofE does not have an illness like this. Not in reality. Here we are speaking only analogically, and in so doing, I draw on David Tracy and his prescient The Analogical Imagination (1981).  Analogically, the CofE is a corporate body with severe malaise, and is experiencing symptoms it cannot make sense of. But what are the underlying causes?

A number of senior clergy have opined that a lot of the struggles the CofE is currently wrestling with have been pinned on to Covid-19. Other senior clergy have expressed scepticism on this, and suspect that Covid-19 has become a distraction for not thinking about the deeper latent problems that were bound to pose issues to the CofE, and eventually become manifest.

I think they are both right. But to understand why the CofE can’t cope with its (corporate, analogical) Long-Covid, one has to look further back.

In their remarkable book Secular Cycles (Princeton UP, 2009) Peter Turchin and Sergey Nefedov show how societies in Europe evolve and adapt to the bigger underlying cultural, political, demographic templates that shape life, hope, expectations and outcomes. They show, amongst other things, how birth rates, food prices and inflation shape population size. How inflation and stagflation (i.e., the combination of high inflation, stagnant economic growth, and elevated unemployment) impact wages, employment and work. And disease, plague, wars, revolts and natural disasters must also be factored in.

Many historical processes exhibit recurrent patterns of change. Century-long periods of population expansion come before long periods of stagnation and decline; the dynamics of prices mirror population oscillations; and states go through strong expansionist phases followed by periods of state failure, endemic sociopolitical instability, and territorial loss. Turchin and Nefedov explore the dynamics and causal connections between such demographic, economic, and political variables in agrarian societies and offer detailed explanations for these long-term oscillations–what the authors call secular cycles.

Secular Cycles elaborates and expands upon the demographic-structural theory first advanced by Jack Goldstone, which provides an explanation of long-term oscillations. Turchin and Nefedov test that theory’s specific and quantitative predictions by tracing the dynamics of population numbers, prices and real wages, elite numbers and incomes, state finances, and sociopolitical instability. Incorporating theoretical and quantitative history, the book studies societies in Europe during the medieval and early modern periods, and even looks back at the Roman Republic and Empire.

Turchin and Nefedov don’t have much to say about Christianity directly, but it is clear that when one analyses the big social-secular-material cycles, churches are compelled to adapt. As they do so, they incur the consequential symptoms that the larger secular cycles produce. In this regard, Turchin and Nefedov follow earlier work by John R. Moorman, Jack Goldstone and Lawrence Stone

For example, Medieval England had around 10,000 parishes serving three million people. The late medieval parish priest was a semi-literate rural worker. In pre-Tudor England hardly any parish had a resident curate, or even necessarily a parish church. But 1540-1560 saw huge declines in ordinations.

Given the turbulence and violence of the Reformation this is hardly a surprise. In Canterbury diocese in 1560, of 270 livings, 107 had no clergy. In Oxford archdeaconry the numbers of clergy fell – from 371 in 1526 to 270 by 1586.

After 1600 the numbers of clergy in the CofE increased rapidly, and by 1640 there were more clergy than livings (so unemployment). By 1688 there were 10,000 clergy. But the rise and fall in numbers does not tell the whole the story. By the end of the Caroline period, a minister had a university degree, strong religious convictions, a comfortable house, and income on a par with doctors or lawyers, often able to afford domestic help. Ordination was for elites.

This trend continued, albeit in slow decline, during the 19^th century, and to some extent the first half of the 20^th century. But the post-war years have seen a much, much steeper decline in the public status and professional identity of clergy. Teachers and nurses will be better-paid, and enjoy stronger employment rights.

Today there are 12,500 parishes in the CofE serving a population of 57 million. Under 700,000 attend its services, amounting to just over 1% of the population. With 36% of attendees over the age of 70, the cliff edge looks very steep, with 200,000 set to be lost to the CofE in the next 15 years. They will not be replaced.

With around 50% currently aged between 18 and 69, and only 18% being 17 or younger, the CofE has largely lost its transmission rights. When empires or societies collapse, there is loss or disruption in transmission. What was previously assumed is forgotten. What was once known is no longer learned.

Between 2009 and 2019 the average weekly church attendance for the Church of England fell by approximately 218,000. Church attendance figures fell even more during 2020 and 2021, although this was due to the Covid-19 pandemic. Check the collection plate, in the meantime.

In 2022, approximately 207,004 marriages took place via a civil ceremony in England and Wales, compared with 41,915 religious ceremonies. Since 1992, there have been more civil ceremonies in every year than religious ones. Naturally, there were far fewer ceremonies taking place in 2020 due to Covid.  Yet there is no national or diocesan mission strategy, nor even a bishop, getting to grips with any of this. By 2030, the average weekly church attendance for the CofE will have collapsed to around 0.5 million – simply not a sustainable economic position.

That the CofE sits on social and cultural templates it cannot control is hardly news. But there are no national or diocesan mission strategies that show any inklings for engaging with the bigger picture. The CofE thinks it is running out of young people (true). So it pours huge amounts of money, resources and anxiety into reversing this, without ever pausing to consider declining birth rates (there are fewer young people), and that as a population the English are getting older and older, with fewer taxpayers and people at work to pay for the long-term care of the elderly. Young people are extremely anxious about this, and the toll on their mental health and morale is enormous.

The CofE is habitually between 25-50 years behind the times on management, communications, leadership, HR and the like. Initiatives on mission, youth, the elderly, reorganisation, finances, governance, employment and engagement are wincingly out of date, even pre-publication. On safeguarding and sexuality the CofE occupies top spot as a national scandal (and were it not, it would be a national joke). Little of the operational and managerial infrastructure is fit for purpose. The CofE is run by (proverbial) generals fighting the wars and opponents of bygone eras, if not centuries.

On pensions, the recent letter from 700 CofE clergy flagging existential anxiety and poverty has been met with indifference by the hierarchy. As indices of trust are measured across professions, the CofE and its leadership have logged the lowest score on record. People outside the CofE do not believe what bishops say. Inside the CofE, it is hardly any better. Its managers and leaders are out of their depth, yet regard themselves as indispensable, despite being clueless. Locally, for parishes, the annual warmth of seasonal spiritual nostalgia has become a threadbare comfort blanket now so fragile it can barely be touched before being carefully stowed away until the next Christmas or Easter comes.

Meanwhile, theological analysis – which could have been be critical, nourishing and prescient in such a crisis – has been stripped out and marginalised, or ostracised by the CofE’s leadership. Whilst insights from secular social sciences were never really engaged with by the CofE leadership. Corporately, the CofE is like the proverbial frog in boiling water. It has no idea how it got into the kettle, let alone why the water is getting warmer. Alpha Courses, Fresh Expressions, mission statements and another diocesan reorganisation have been, predictably, about as effective as a nosegay in the face of a major plague epidemic.

England was hit hard by Covid as was the CofE. There were 120 days of lockdown in the nation – far more than other countries. Yet our mortality rates were amongst the highest in Europe. It is estimated that the backlog for NHS treatment is still running north of 7 million.

Pupil absence rates in schools remain high, and the bill for the bail-out given to employers and employees (one of the most generous, globally) will sit on the national debt for generations to come. The furlough scheme cost the nation £70bn, which is 2.9% of GDP.

On the ground, locally, rates of stress and anxiety amongst clergy continue to climb, and major issues on morale, mental health, expectations on work, finances (personal and ecclesial), public trust, employment rights and pensions remain unaddressed. Such factors are dogged by other persistent scandals in the church. The nation continues to practice slow-but-ever-increasing social-distancing from the CofE, save for a few festive occasions each year.  Nationally, there is no sign of anyone in the CofE leadership grasping these nettles.

As I have recently argued(The Exiled Church: Reckoning with Secular Culture, Canterbury Press), the huge and calamitous adjustments made by the Church of Scotland to its demographic and financial crises could serve as a warning to other denominations on the perils of not thinking ahead. Five years on, Covid has irreversibly transformed the English nation. Which makes it all the more remarkable is that in the CofE, it seems to barely changed or adjusted at all.

So, what about the CofE suffering from a case of corporate Long-Covid? It seems to fit with our collective sense of symptoms. That said, and as Turchin and Nefedov suggest, issues that the English nation (and thus its national church) are wrestling with lie well beyond its control.  It remains to be seen if the CofE leadership can read the signs of the times and interpret them, let alone think creatively about the survival and shape of the church over the next few decades.

If there is to be any hope, there must first of all be some realism about the present and future. But the leadership cannot talk their way out the collective crises afflicting the CofE. So we need a lot more show and a lot less tell. We need the leadership to show visible, serious signs of real change that are intelligent, wise and considered. On that, we continue to hold our breath. I fear we’ll be waiting for some time. 

by Anthony Bash

Forgiveness

Justin Welby was asked in Sunday with Laura Kuenssberg on 30 March 2025, ‘Do you forgive John Smyth?’ Welby answered,

‘Yes. I think if he were alive, and I saw him – but it’s not me he abused. He’s abused the victims and survivors. So, whether I forgive or not is, to a large extent, irrelevant.’

Welby is not a victim of the physical abuse perpetrated by John Smyth. Smyth did not beat him when he was a minor with hundreds of strokes and left him scarred and bleeding. In this regard, Welby has nothing to forgive. He is a third party, an outsider, a critic of what happened, but not the subject of Smyth’s brutality.

A church which perpetrates the view that it is possible for people to forgive those who do not wrong them holds an absurd view of forgiveness. What has forgiveness got to do with anyone except those who have been wronged?

In answering ‘Yes’ and then qualifying what he meant by ‘Yes’ and acknowledging his forgiveness was, to a large extent, ‘irrelevant’, Welby discloses the muddle that lies at the heart of his approach to forgiveness – an approach that mirrors the approach of the Church of England generally.

On the one hand, forgiveness is seen as an overarching good, to be offered at all times, in all circumstances, whether sought or not. People think it promotes reconciliation and wellbeing, and that it avoids conflict and division. Without it, so it is said, there can be no peace.

On the other hand, Welby recognises – despite having said he forgave Smyth – that his is not the place to forgive, as he is not a victim of Smyth’s brutality. We go further: it’s not that Welby’s forgiveness is ‘to a large extent, irrelevant’: it is irrelevant.

Welby’s answer wants things both ways. Welby offers something to everyone and thereby satisfies no one. In fact, his answer could offend everyone – either for forgiving when some say he shouldn’t or for saying forgiving is irrelevant when others say it is not. This approach is an example of the besetting Anglican sin of keeping everyone on board and offending no one. The victims of abuse know this ‘have-your-cake-and-eat-it’ approach doesn’t work – as gays and women in the church will also testify.

This is the reply I suggest Welby could have given Laura Kuenssberg in response to her question, ‘Do you forgive John Smyth?’

No, Laura, I do not. Smyth did not abuse me. If Smyth were still alive and I saw him, I would confront him about what he had done, and tell him he needed to surrender to the police to make a full confession. I would also urge him to contact his victims and to put right with them, as best he could, what he had done. He would need to make some sort of reparation in demonstration of a change of heart. Without something like this, he will not have forgiveness from the victims, and there can be no place for him in the life of the church of Christ.

What is lacking in what Welby said is what lies at the heart of forgiveness – remorse, repentance, reparation. Remorse and repentance are the result of a change of moral perspective and precede forgiveness. They demonstrate a commitment both to act differently and to be different in the future. The result is more than words of regret but appropriate reparative action.

The church’s overarching commitment should therefore not be to forgiveness as an end in itself. Rather, it should be to truth, integrity, and honesty. It should be to do right, to call out what is wrong, to seek justice, and to expose lies, deceit, and cover up. Forgiveness may then result, but not necessarily. The church’s focus is mistakenly on the goal, not on the means.

Personal Responsibility

In the interview, Welby spoke of feeling ‘overwhelmed’ by the number of allegations of abuse the church had received in 2013. He is ‘utterly sorry’ and said he felt ‘a deep sense of personal failure’. Though not said, this failure includes not initiating cultural and structural changes to the church between 2013 and 2024: additional safeguarding officers and a welcome change in culture for preventive safeguarding are not the only answer. Welby’s bland ‘corporate-speak’ reason for resigning – ‘personal responsibility for shortcomings’ – obscures the fact that he failed to provide leadership about an issue that has engulfed the church in shame.

Apart from asking for pity because he had felt so overwhelmed, saying (as if an excuse) ‘I had a difficult upbringing’ (it was Eton College, and then Trinity College, Cambridge), and eventually giving up by resigning, what did Welby personally do to put right his errors when he became aware of them? What model of the gospel did Welby demonstrate by his actions?

What has not happened under Welby’s watch is compensation for victims of historic abuse. There have also not been independent investigations of mishandled cases of historic abuse and cover up. Neither have there been independent investigations of cases where safeguarding has been weaponised to cause harm. Rather, the church remains detached from mechanisms of public accountability and independent scrutiny. The church’s perspective has been to look forward, and not to acknowledge and face past mistakes and their consequences. So, the extent of the unaddressed problems has not been acknowledged, and victims of abuse still have no remedy, reparation, justice, or closure. We asked above, ‘What did Welby personally do to put right his errors when he became aware of them?’ The answer is: Not much.

The example of Graham, one of those abused by Smyth, illustrates the church’s failure to properly address the past. In Kuenssberg’s broadcast, Graham said he had had ‘the most extraordinary, traumatic journey trying to get answers, trying to get any kind of support’ from the church and that his experience of historic abuse by Smyth ‘paled into insignificance’ in comparison with what the church had put him through. Even if there is a degree of hyperbole about what Graham says (and I am not suggesting there is), his statement is an extraordinary indictment of what he says is the greater abuse he experienced perpetrated in the name of the church.

When asked whether he accepts that (in Welby’s words) Welby ‘really is sorry’, Graham said that Welby has not contacted him personally or apologised. He regards Welby as having ‘blanked’ him and the other survivors of Smyth’s abuse, and as refusing to tell the truth. Graham concluded, ‘We’re the victims and we deserve to know what happened. We don’t yet.’

Institutional Responsibility

Without going into much detail in the interview, Welby also said that he accepted ‘institutional responsibility for long-term revelations of cover up and failure over a long period.’ The cover up and failure have many causes. A future Archbishop of Canterbury will need to identify the causes and address them. The causes include the following. There is no legal requirement to report allegations of abuse (‘mandatory reporting’). There is lack of resource to deal adequately with reports of abuse. Investigations into alleged abuse are conducted ‘in house’, by people who may wish to avoid public shame and scandal for the church. The church is not subject to the Nolan Principles setting out professional standards of conduct in public life; neither is it subject to the same statutory framework of regulation and accountability as secular institutions. In short, there is lack of statutory regulation, lack of resource – and perhaps even of resolution – as well as a culture of amateurism at the heart of the church and its institutions. The church is not adequately fitted to safely and responsibly carry out its role in public life. Reform therefore needs to be both statutory and in-house – and urgently.

By walking away, ‘overwhelmed’ by the scale of the problem and having done little to address it when in office, Welby has bequeathed to his successors besetting, unaddressed systemic and structural failure in the church. A new Archbishop will need skill and experience to remedy the failure. A new archbishop will also need conviction that the gospel insists on repentance for sin in the context of truth and justice.

Triple Wounds

The culture of forgiveness that pervades the church, the church’s own failure to respond appropriately to safeguarding allegations, and the church’s lack of moral vigour in its approach to forgiveness are triple wounds for the abused. The abused will, first, carry the wounds of their historic abuse. Second, they will carry wounds from a church that has failed to hear them and to act on what the church has heard. Last, there will be wounds from the church – sometimes even from its national leaders – who forgive abusers when they have no business to do so and do not see the absurdity of what they are doing. The result is that the abused will have to learn to survive the historical abuse they have suffered, the neglect of the church, and the wounds of (perhaps well-meaning but) theologically naïve forgivers.

Anthony Bash is author with Martyn Percy of Forgiveness, Remorse, Reparation: Reckoning with Truthful Apology (Ethics Press,2025).