Imagine the outgoing archbishop of Canterbury doesn’t have a tattoo. But if he did, he’d have that one beloved of so many insouciant people: “ONLY GOD CAN JUDGE ME.” As it goes, people with this tattoo frequently appear in court. In fact, sentencing guidelines for people with auto-satirical body art is one of only about three subjects that Justin Welby didn’t make some public comment about in his tenure as the archbishop of Canterbury.
But the great pontificator is now turning in his badge and mitre, and yesterday could be found delivering a quite staggeringly tone-deaf final speech as the archbishop of Canterbury in the House of Lords. As a reminder, Welby’s resignation was called for because he definitely knew about victims of John Smyth, a sadistic monster who he had once hugely admired. Smyth’s victims, groomed and horrifically beaten, begged repeatedly – and for years – for an investigation, which the Church of England did not instigate. Many of them now state the church’s ignoring of their trauma was equal to the abuse itself.
And so to Welby’s final speech to the Lords. “If you pity anyone,” he twinkled of his unexpected departure, “pity my poor diary secretary.” Sorry … WHAT? But I’m afraid the archbishop of Banterbury had officially logged on. “My Lords,” ran another gambit. “It is often said, and it is a cliche to say it – but hey, I am the archbishop still – that if you want to make God laugh, make plans. On that basis, next year, I will be causing God more hilarity than anyone else for many years.” I mean, if he was looking for the perfect tone for a farewell that in essence derives from failing to investigate grotesque child abuse … this ain’t it. And tone was all there was – there wasn’t a single expression of sorrow or remorse for the huge number of Smyth’s victims, several of whom are known to have tried to take their own lives down the years. On Friday afternoon, something – perhaps the anguished reaction of survivors? – prompted Welby to issue an apology statement.
As well he might. That particular context certainly added something to another bit about a head needing to roll, “whether one is personally responsible or not”. “There is only, in this case,” Welby expanded, “one head that rolls well enough.” How convenient for the wider institution. “Smyth survivors want all those responsible to stand down,” one of the victims was forced to reiterate in the wake of this speech. As for that “whether one is personally responsible”… To clarify: one IS personally responsible. One massively messed up. One’s “distinct lack of curiosity” – not my words, but the verdict on Welby and other senior church figures of the official independent review into the church’s handling of Smyth – is the terrible sin of omission here. The allegations against Smyth were first investigated and publicly aired not by the Church of England, but by Channel 4 News, from whose 2017 report the precious-little-justice in this case has flowed.
To pick one date, speaking of diary secretaries, it really is mad to think that Welby spent 1 October 2014 blogging about the importance of listening to victims of abuse and declaring them never to blame – when he could have spent it talking to victims of Smyth’s abuse and telling the authorities about the man to blame.
During the years he knew about many British victims of Smyth, Welby found time to address a vast range of topics. The legitimacy of fear in the Brexit debate, Bake Off, the gig economy, usury, reality TV, credit unions, the iniquities of the global trade system, airstrikes against Islamic State, the broken economic model … All of these things – and so many more – over which Welby had no operational control were given a hose-down of his reflections, while Smyth moved on to abusing at least 85 more boys (at current estimate) in African nations. This was a horror that Welby could have actually done something direct to prevent. Smyth eventually died in South Africa in 2018 as a free man, despite finally being under investigation by Hampshire police. For all his evil suggestions to boys that his torturous beatings were a way of avoiding brimstone, I assume Smyth never even actually believed there was a hell, or he wouldn’t have spent a lifetime booking his spot in it.
Read it all at the Guardian
