

In my recent blogging and asking questions about the Smyth/Fletcher scandals, I have been wanting to do far more than simply chronicling a series of events. As a former parish priest with almost a half-century of service in a variety of congregations, I approach this open-source material with what I hope is an informed perspective. Congregations and their leaders, as well as most groups, behave in predictable ways. What I offer in my commentary on this material, is a reflection about patterns of behaviour. Placing such material into a context of history and theology is also an important task, but these speculations have to remain provisional.
A couple of weeks back, the story of PC Andrew Harper, killed by thieves in Berkshire a year ago, resurfaced. Those guilty were convicted and sentenced to prison for manslaughter. The Press contained some discussion about whether this verdict should be overturned in favour of one calling it murder. The part of the story that caught my eye was not that debate. It was the mentioning of the detail that, while the police were originally investigating the killing, they had received absolutely no cooperation from any of the residents of the travellers’ sites where the guilty lived. It appeared that every single member of the communities where the thieves lived, was bound by an unwritten rule that cooperation with the police (and thus the wider society) was impossible. Even a terrible death was not sufficient to overcome this. In pondering this complex breakdown of communication and mutual understanding between two sections of society, we seem to be touching on something resembling the mindset of a cult or extremist political group. There was a norm, a group mind, which laid on the entire community a rule of silence. Everyone automatically fell into line. No single individual there was operating as an independent adult with a conscience that could operate on behalf of those outside the tribe.
A similar kind of group mind seems to be affecting parts of the so-called Villages, a wealthy enclave for retired people in Florida. Apparently, the divisions between Trump and Biden supporters have broken out into open conflict among some of these elderly residents. Any kind of political display, a flag or poster, has the effect of creating torrents of anger among those on the opposing side. Somewhere in the heat of political debate, groups of elderly American citizens have lost the ability to imagine that other people might have a valid reason for thinking and feeling in a different way.
These two examples present to us a mentality that flourished in the period before the Second World War. Two political systems were then on offer in continental Europe. One, Communism, was represented by Stalin and Soviet Russia. The other, Fascism, was imposed in Spain, Germany and Italy. Both systems were a different expression of what we want to call the group mind. The first, Communism, strove to create a consciousness that would claim to be building a communal society where corporate values were supreme. This of course was the ideal rather than the reality. Fascism on the other hand was promoting crude forms of individualism, the extolling of brute strength and the destiny of the strong to dominate over the weak. The values of both systems had much mass appeal. Anyone who happened to be living empty or unfulfilled lives could look to the leader and internalise the values that were being shared every day through the output of propaganda. Lives that were felt to have no meaning suddenly were imbued with significance. The secret weapon of both these systems was that once the ideals of the regime were internalised, the follower was relieved of having ever to make decisions and accept responsibility. In psychological terms, being part of the national group mind allowed a comforting regression to infancy. Daddy will sort everything out. You can trust the leader to sort out your life and provide fulfilment. For an uncomfortably high percentage of the populations, this was a cult-like consciousness they were happy to wallow in. Devotion to the Leader or Fuehrer was total for large sectors of the population. It was uncritical, unreflective and devoid of questioning.
Some understanding of the totalist regimes of the 1930s is helpful for the understanding of cults and cultic movements of today. In all of them, there is the same avoidance of rational individuality which accepts responsibility for decisions. There is always what we would consider an unhealthy devotion to a charismatic leader who does the thinking for his followers and keeps them at the maturity level of small children. As long as no questions are asked, all seems well. But the awakening from such cult-like control is painful. A human being cannot live with their individuality and necessary choices supressed for ever.
There is a painful truth that the Church is also sometimes very good at keeping people at a low level of maturity. While we are not suggesting that the Church is like a cult or a mass political movement, there are some uncomfortable parallels. I have often in this blog complained about the way that some church leaders adopt the role of a coercive benevolent dictator, telling their followers in detail how to live and exactly what to believe. Membership is restricted to those who are Sound, and preferment to those who are Keen. Clearly a congregation where everyone believes the same things and adopts the same modes of behaviour, is likely to be a tidy place. The preservation of these tribal loyalties may seem like a good thing. The problem is that leaders are fallible. When they fail, as in the current cases around Smyth/Fletcher, the fallout and damage can be appalling. The tidy systems of control, that worked so well for a long period of time, start to crack open and people realise that the certainties that the institution stood for had been based to a considerable extent on fantasy and deceit.
The results of the Reviews by Keith Makin and Thirtyone:eight into the behaviours of Smyth and Fletcher respectively, are both delayed until next year. There has been some comment about the reasons for these delays, but the outsider is permitted to speculate further on these hold-ups. Thirtyone:eight included the somewhat ambiguous reason which I and others have not known how to interpret. “Non-disclosure-related information emerging late”. Speculation is of course not fact but in the case of the Smyth enquiry at any rate, there seem to be one of two reasons at play. The less likely theory, arising out of what I have said on the functioning of cultic groups, is that there is so much new material available that the reviewers are finding it hard to process what has come in. The other more probable theory is that the communities that surrounded and protected charismatic leaders like Fletcher and Smyth are still in a state of post-cultic shock. While they are now able to recognise a new reality, that old leaders are fallible, they have not lost the old tribal habits of the group mind. In short, there is some suggestion that the enquiries currently under way are being met with the obstructionist habits of closed groups.
We thus suggest that a picture of dozens of individuals queuing up to speak to Keith Makin about their experiences of Iwerne camps, good and bad, is a very improbable one. The most likely scenario is that there is considerable difficultly in getting individuals to speak openly and that makes the task of writing a Review harder. The omerta culture seems alive and well and we would naturally expect that to restrain a free sharing of Iwerne memories by the majority of the alumni. Another thing that seems extraordinary is that there is no open debate about whether the Iwerne ideology of ‘Bash’ is still worth defending. Am I the only person to have noticed that the military ethos of the camps was first conceived of in the 1930s and may perhaps have been influenced by other elitist youth movements were being created in continental Europe? Has no one anywhere wanted to discuss whether the semi-militarised Christian training of Iwerne camps has done anything positive for the Church of England? Is it raw fear that prevents this discussion? Some of the alumni of Iwerne appear to be behaving like people coming out of a dark place blinking into the light. Like cult survivors, they have a variety of stages yet to go through, like Kubler-Ross’s stages of grief. At present most of them are still at the stage of shock and denial. Perhaps church history will one day come to see, when examining this extraordinary tale of the Great Leader Betrayal, that the Church of England was let down badly by giving so much influence and power to this small but influential group of Christians who continue to operate this highly controlled form of Christianity. To judge from the literature of cult studies, it will take several years if not decades before many of the Iwerne victims/survivors will be able to speak and speak clearly about what they have experienced. The process might be speeded up if their current leaders, who still exercise a great deal of influence over the rank and file, were to give permission for the cathartic opening-up that is needed to heal so many, the directly abused and the bystanders. So far that permission has not been granted and the journey through the stages of grief cannot proceed with ease.
Cults, extremist political or religious ideologies and closed communities of all kinds draw their strength and their toxic influence by drawing people into an unhealthy relationship with leaders. That relationship can be poisonous. It stops the process of growing into freedom and responsible living and the making of life choices. We call this fullness mature independence. This is what Jesus was talking about when he declared: ‘I have come that they may have life, life in all its abundance.’









