Pope and Primate are both in error over child-abuse cases concerning bishops
The Tablet
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In Pope Francis’ case, he found a way to limit the self-inflicted damage, while Archbishop Welby has, so far at least, refused to back down. As a result there will be calls in the next General Synod meeting for his resignation. Of the two episodes, that concerning the Pope is the most significant, because it raises a host of questions related to the Catholic Church’s current handling of the child abuse crisis. Bishop Bell died in 1958. Bishop Barros is currently Bishop of Osorno, Chile, a post he was appointed to by Pope Francis.
Apart from the Barros issue, last week’s papal visit to Chile and Peru was an outstanding example of Francis’ public style. He lambasted the rich and embraced the poor, especially the indigenous peoples of Latin America who have had such a poor deal, and he remonstrated fiercely with those who exploit and abuse the natural environment. Apart from his handling of the Barros issue, therefore, it could be counted a great success. But that cast a shadow over the rest. Those who had an interest in disregarding his admonitions in the name of social justice had an excuse. Many of his supporters are now wondering whether their hopes for the innovative and refreshing “pastoral paradigm” behind his papacy might be misplaced.
Bishop Barros was appointed by Pope Francis despite a groundswell of concern in Chile that he had been too close to a charismatic priest, Fr Fernando Karadima, who was later unmasked as a serial abuser. Some of the abuser’s victims went further and alleged that, to their knowledge, Barros was complicit. Asked about the case, Francis repeated the official Vatican line that these charges – which the bishop has always strenuously denied – had been investigated and dismissed. The Pope described such allegations as a slander against an innocent man. “The day they bring me proof against Bishop Barros, I will speak. There is not one piece of evidence against him. It is calumny. Is that clear?” he said to a group of Chilean journalists.
He was promptly rebuked by Cardinal Sean O’Malley, Archbishop of Boston and chair of the Pope’s own commission on child abuse, who said such words were “a source of great pain for survivors of sexual abuse”. The Pope had implied that unless victims had proof, they were not to be believed. But that goes to the very heart of the Church’s shameful failure, countless times and all over the world, to take allegations of the abuse of children by priests seriously enough. Even when the Pope later withdrew his words and apologised, claiming he had meant to say “evidence” rather than “proof”, what the incident reveals about his mindset is troubling.
Behind all this is the absence in the Vatican of any proper forum or tribunal for dealing with allegations against bishops. Because of this, Bishop Barros himself, not to mention his accusers, have been denied natural justice. A tribunal was promised, but has not appeared. Secret Vatican investigations fail the first test of justice: that it must not only be done but be seen to be done. Two members of the papal commission on sex abuse have resigned because they feel the issue is being marginalised in the Vatican, and the process for appointing their successors has not been given any urgency. They and other commission members had been very critical of the appointment of Bishop Barros.
The bishop is now personally responsible for the safety of children in his diocese. Is it reasonable to expect parents to trust him? Given the deep and permanent psychological damage that child abuse can cause the Church cannot afford to take any risks in this area. When the allegations against Karadima first surfaced, Barros had defended him. Barros’ close relationship with Karadima should have been more than enough to bar him from appointment to the care of a diocese.
It is a feature of child abuse that abusers often appear upright, even distinguished, to those who know them well. They find it impossible to think ill of such a person. This is the defence offered by Archbishop Welby, who has refused to acknowledge that the Church of England’s handling of a posthumous complaint against Bishop George Bell of Chichester was fundamentally flawed. An inquiry by Lord Carlile QC found that Bell’s reputation had been “wrongly and unnecessarily damaged by the Church”.
Archbishop Welby said after the Carlile inquiry was published that in spite of it, a “significant cloud” remained over Bishop Bell’s memory. This led to a campaign to persuade him to withdraw this remark, which this week he refused to do. “Bishop Bell was in many ways a hero,” he said. “He is also accused of great wickedness. Good acts do not diminish evil ones, nor do evil ones make it right to forget good.” That implies that Welby believes that evil acts had indeed been committed, and people are refusing to believe it.
For generations of Anglicans, Bishop Bell had been a shining example of prophetic courage, not least in his denunciation of the RAF’s carpet bombing of German cities at a cost of thousands of innocent lives. He was also a lifeline to the anti-Nazi resistance movement in Germany. He would have been the natural successor to William Temple as Archbishop of Canterbury were it not for the opposition of the then Prime Minister, Winston Churchill.
The single allegation of child abuse against him was first made some 38 years after his death, and Bishop Bell’s supporters say the most likely explanation is that this was a case of mistaken identity. The Church of England jumped too quickly, without anything like due process, to the conclusion that he was probably guilty. Just as Pope Francis has jumped too quickly to the conclusion that Bishop Barros is innocent.
In neither case has justice been done, or seen to be done. Nor has the cause of child protection – and public confidence in the church’s handling of it – been enhanced. This cannot be the end of either affair. Both Churches have more explaining to do.
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