When Channel 4’s Cathy Newman summed up the Church of England’s John Smyth scandal as showing that ‘the church had neither process nor kindness’, Justin Welby agreed. It was hard for the Archbishop of Canterbury not to. Welby’s downfall was in no small part due to his neglect of the right process, one which puts victims and survivors first. As Welby – who resigned as Archbishop of Canterbury this week – said: ‘You can have kindness without process and nothing happens’.
Welby’s relaxed approach, but iron will, elevated him to the position of Archbishop
The Makin review into the church’s handling of the abuse allegations against Smyth shows what happens when things aren’t done by the book. It reveals details of meetings in Lambeth Palace in 2017 between a small unrepresentative group of victims and palace officers, despite ‘police advising against any meetings’. What victims wanted was the Archbishop. Instead, unable to have him, behind the scenes they got a traditional Anglican fudge that blurred the boundaries further.
This corridor approach to decision making, while making a public show of consultation, has been a feature of Welby’s time in office. Little wonder the Archbishop has found an unlikely supporter in Alastair Campbell – architect of Tony Blair’s ‘sofa government’. Now, Welby has gone – but the CofE has been left in an unholy mess.
The allegations against Smyth aren’t the only instance where there are questions over the church’s willingness to do things by the letter. Proper process has not been followed in so many of the ‘big projects’ that have needed dealing with during Welby’s archiepiscopacy.
In 2020, when prime minister Boris Johnson closed churches at the outbreak of the covid pandemic, priests expected to be allowed to continue to enter for private prayer and eucharist. Instead, the Archbishops wrote to clergy saying they ‘must now be closed’, even for them. When clergy complained, they were told the letter was merely guidance. Welby declared that, in the CofE ‘the one way to get anyone to do the opposite of what you want is to give them an order’.
Then there have been the problems we have seen in the General Synod, the national assembly of the CofE. Blessing services for same-sex couples should ideally have come to Synod as new liturgy, except that would require a two-thirds majority which isn’t there. So instead, after exhausting, divisive, and very painful Synod debates, the bishops finally commended them – in a manner which suggests they were always allowed legally anyway.
Self-preservation is a powerful thing. It can ride roughshod over process. Just look at Paula Vennells. Welby presumably did, when he is said to have been supportive of the former Post Office boss’s bid to become Bishop of London. But then, Welby has been clear on camera that he doesn’t ‘give a hang about the institution’ he has led. If it receives a fatal blow, he said ‘God will raise up another institution’. Nothing stays the same forever, of course. Processes can, and should, be updated. But this feels like an Archbishop who has shown a casual lack of concern about throwing the baby out with the bathwater.
When Welby was appointed Archbishop in 2012, there were high hopes among Anglicans. This was a man who – while relatively unknown – was going to know how to do process well, especially in a large institution. The former Bishop of Durham had served as chairman of an NHS Trust, and had a role at a large city investment firm. Welby had also worked in the oil industry for a number of years and been appointed onto the Parliamentary Commission on Banking Standards. ‘Can companies sin?’ had been the title of his dissertation. His corporate background and plain-speaking were surely his strengths. This was no theologically-focused academic, nor overly-fluffy pastor; this was someone who could get the church in shape for the 21st century. Or so it was thought.
When Welby was appointed Archbishop in 2012, there were high hopes among Anglicans
If Archbishop George Carey had created much of the bureaucracy in the church, and Archbishop Rowan Williams had prayed it would go away, Archbishop Welby could reform the archaic processes and structures of the national church. Yet the flickers of what would lead to his downfall could be seen in the early days. One former boss noted his combination of ‘relaxed approach and an absolute iron will’. The devil, it turned out, was going to be in the actual details of what was done – and what was not done.
It is what was not done that has been catapulted into the public consciousness in recent weeks. Elements of the Makin review and some statements published subsequently call to mind Charles Osgood’s responsibility poem; ‘Nobody did What Anybody could have’.
Of course, the reality is far more complex. Welby says he regrets not asking for evidence of what was happening. ‘I didn’t chase it up. I didn’t follow it up. That is my fault. But I was wrong. I should have said, what’s the evidence?,’ he said this week. Oh, for a clearer process for all concerned. One hopes that one is now in place.
Prior to Makin, other bishops had been hammered by Welby over their apparent lack of adherence to safeguarding processes. In 2019, he suspended a bewildered Bishop of Lincoln following an ‘error of judgement’ concerning an abuse disclosure. After 20 months of inquiry, which the bishop described as an ordeal, he was allowed back as the concerns had been dealt with.
While Welby’s relaxed approach, but iron will, elevated him to the position of Archbishop, he never had time to learn how to work with the bureaucracy of the church. His time in charge was a missed opportunity to formally reform process in the church. Bad process hurts everyone; we need both rules and kindness. Now, Welby should follow the process for leaving in a timely way, as the Church of England looks for its next leader. It might do well to choose a priest prepared to carry the cross that is Canterbury who will put people first – even when that means playing by the rules.
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