At the heart of the Makin report released last Wednesday is an account of the behaviour and beliefs of one seriously damaged and dangerous individual, John Smyth. I do not propose to say much about him here, as his activities, if not his thinking, are well documented in Makin and other accounts. Andrew Graystone has already prepared us with his book, Bleeding for Jesus, for much of the factual material contained in Makin’s long report about the crimes of John Smyth. What remains to be considered first of all is the behaviour of individuals, many now deceased, who responded to discovering the facts of the abuse that occurred in Winchester and elsewhere between 1979 and 1982.
A large section of the Makin account, as it recounts these events from the last century, concerns the actions and decisions of a group of prominent C/E evangelicals after the news first broke in March 1982. It was in this month that Mark Ruston, a Cambridge incumbent, put together a report which was then circulated to nine other clergy, all trustees of the organisation running the Iwerne camps. At that point Ruston had identified most, but not all, of the Smyth victims. Meetings were called by these trustees as they struggled to get a grip on the situation. From the records that Makin has gathered, there seems to have been very little concern for or interest in the welfare of Smyth’s victims. The chief anxiety appears to have been the damage the scandal might do to the reputation of the Iwerne camps. Smyth had been a prominent leader for many years. Mark Rushton and David Fletcher emerged as the de-facto leaders of managers of the crisis. It was they, among others, who confronted Smyth and convinced him, with some difficulty, to sign undertakings to abandon his ‘ministry’ to boys and young men. In the event the attempts to restrain Smyth were unsuccessful and he went on to run camps in Africa, supported by his English supporters who were still in thrall to his charismatic charm and evident gifts of public speaking. It was to be another thirty years before information about his abusive behaviour became general knowledge. The story of Smyth’s avoidance or exposure to justice is carefully chronicled in Makin’s report.
Those who have the stamina to read the entire Makin report will recognise the importance of the year 1982 in the narrative. This was the year when the abuses in England were stopped, and the small group of well-connected Anglican clergy, deeply solicitous for the reputation of the Iwerne camps, tried to decide what to do with the information in their possession. The moral and ethical obligation to take some decisive action by the trustees who received the report is clear to us, as we examine the events from the perspective of 2024. The trustees should have immediately referred all the information in their possession to the police and sought the advice of senior professionals in the psychological and law enforcement world, to help them both understand and act constructively with the information in their possession. That they did not, at least initially, raises concerns in two areas. One is that the silence and secrecy that they sought to impose on the Smyth case would go on to be a major cause of harm to Smyth’s existing victims. It is as if the Iwerne effort was so important that nothing should or could be done to help those injured and protect other potential victims in the future. The culture of Iwerne, or whatever was being protected through the secrecy, was itself a hard heartless enterprise. In failing to support the Smyth victims, past and future, the Iwerne impulse was showing itself to be, despite its high-sounding language of conversion and love, to be a cruel monster, completely devoid of real compassion and healing.
The second reality, shown in the frantic efforts to protect the Iwerne brand, was the lasting disregard by these clergy to bring in real effective expertise to resolve the issues caused by Smyth’s barbarity. It needed resources of all kinds, far beyond what was available to a small group of clergy intent of preserving reputations, both corporate and individual. Someone might possibly have said, ‘we need help. This is too big to handle without the skills and expertise of a phalanx of professional disciplines’. The reasons for failing to do this are again clear. Secrecy and the preservation of the Iwerne name were paramount. The culture of secrecy itself became a source of evil which was to do so much to damage individuals until today.
In the course of 1982, the offending behaviour by Smyth in England was brought to a halt, but one thing is clear in that none of the figures who exercised some authority in the situation and which enabled them to extract promises from Smyth not to misbehave, seems to have really got the measure of how serious and delinquent his actions had been. The leaders who confronted Smyth did manage, in part, to stand up to the manipulative behaviour which had allowed him to rise so quickly in the Iwerne hierarchy, but they still believed (naively) that they had the true measure of his personality and behaviour. In other words, they trusted their own innate skills as pastors and managers to penetrate his defensive/manipulative strategies which were employed to protect him from the accusers’ threats. One hope by the leaders, that they could lead Smyth to a place of genuine remorse and repentance, turned out to be empty and of no value. Dozens of children in Africa were to suffer (and one die) as the result of Christian leaders having an inflated assessment of their pastoral skills.
We come here to a failing in Christian ministry which is probably all too common. This is the fault of believing that ordination has granted one the gift of inspired judgement in pastoral situations when, in fact, they need human judgement which is properly informed by professional (secular) skill. Many clergy are unwilling to admit that a pastoral situation is beyond their level of competence. In these situations, it should be possible to seek the support of consultant or experienced mentor. I have always believed that an extra beatitude is required to add to the others. It goes something along the lines ‘Blessed are those who know their limitations.’ Preachers/pastors who work within the culture of conservative evangelicalism, where the infallibility of the biblical text is claimed, are particularly vulnerable to the grandiose claims and hubris which allows them to ‘know’ the truth in a complex pastoral scenario such, as the Smyth saga. Is this what we are witnessing in and around Cambridge in 1982 and later in Lambeth Palace after 2013? One thing that is absent from the Makin report during this early 1982 period is any indication that an external professional assessment was sought to gauge Smyth’s potential for reoffending. Nor were the psychological needs of those who had been abused looked at or considered. Instead, the untrained amateur pastoral assumptions of the clergy, who had taken charge in managing the situation, were allowed to reign. The results of letting this inadequate pastoral wisdom dominate the care of victims were to have baneful consequences both for the existing Smyth victims and for those who were to follow them in Zimbabwe and South Africa.
Clerical naivety, compounded by a refusal to access relevant professional competence, seems to sum up one way of understanding how things went so badly wrong in putting right the evils of Smyth’s actions. If I am right to see these failings of professionalism as being at the heart of the saga, then the case for compulsory referral or mandatory reporting seems incontestable. Naivety and the inability to make sound judgement was just not present at the early part of our story, and the same cluelessness seems to cling to many of the actors right through till today. The decisions and the non-decisions that have taken place at Lambeth Palace are also part of the story. The failings of church leaders in knowing what advice to take or whom to follow are not minor failings; they can be enormously harmful and wound the Church of God in ways that cannot be measured.
While writing the above, I have become aware of the increasing crescendo of voices calling for the resignation of the Archbishop of Canterbury over the Smyth affair. My attitude to this question has not been suddenly formed but goes back to the interview in 2019 with Kathy Newman. On that occasion Welby said several things which were clearly untrue, including the claim that he ceased to have contact with the Iwerne camps after graduation and starting work for an oil company in 1977. It is clear that he remained in touch with the camps and he and Smyth appear on the same programme in 1979. Telling even a single lie to impress an invisible audience is corrosive of trust, even with one on the other side of a television screen. The recent article by ‘Graham’ in Via Media finally pushed me to the point where I cannot see him as a spiritual leader. If he does not any longer have moral or spiritual authority, then there is, in my estimation, only one choice open to him -that of resignation.