Why reputation is prioritised over protecting victims

In the four years of writing for Evangelicals Now, the published responses to my articles have been few and far between. The responses sent by post to me (c/o Beacon Church Camberley) have been even rarer.

That’s why the letter I received in response to my last article (How do Christian legal principles help us navigate scandals?) caught my attention.

Out of respect for the anonymous author, I will say no more about the letter than that its contents caused me to reflect deeply. I wondered why so many church leaders resort to connivance and cover-ups, rather than reporting corroborated allegations to the police.

Protecting reputation - just an evangelical problem?

The independent review into John Smyth's abusive behaviour led by Keith Makin made the following pertinent observation: 'There is a thread throughout of people thinking first of the reputational damage to themselves and to the bodies they represent. The starkest example is, of course, when a small group of people buried the 1982 Ruston Report.'

Yet, this persistence in avoiding reputational damage is not attributable to a particular theological tradition (as some liberal commentators have insisted about evangelicalism).

For example, the IICSA report investigating child sexual abuse in England and Wales notes that protecting reputation was the motive for cover-up in the case of Bishop Peter Ball's abuse of young men in the 1990s: 'By the time of Peter Ball’s arrest, at least three senior bishops and a number of other clergy knew of the allegations by Mr Todd… The reputation of the Church and Peter Ball was given a higher priority than the obvious distress of a vulnerable young man.' ^[1]

Notably, of the three bishops that the report identified, one was a conservative, while the other two were liberals.

In his statement to the IICSA panel, Colin Perkins (Diocesan Safeguarding Adviser, Chichester) provided a far more plausible reason: that churches, at the expense of victims’ wellbeing, are keen to avoid reputational damage. In describing the culture of secrecy which can develop within any theological tradition, he said: '…You may then arrive at a sort of overt conservatism and a covert liberalism, which will generate a lot of secrecy…there is a massive connection between secrecy and child abuse.'

So, it makes is no sense to blame evangelical theology when an inordinate desire for secrecy is the true culprit.

The desire for secrecy

In 1971, Richard Crossman, the Labour MP and intellectual, memorably described secrecy as the ‘real English disease’ because, in his day, the government so readily pursued court injunctions to prevent any public disclosure that might embarrass the ruling ‘power elite’.

Last year, Professor Sam Friedman of the London School of Economics led a comparative study of elitism which observed that: 'In the UK, elites tend to be “talent meritocrats” who foreground their unique capacity for ideational creativity or risk taking, innately good judgment, and “natural” aptitude, intelligence, or academic ability.' In contrast, the Danish elites mostly attributed their success to an arduous work ethic.

It is our national deep-seated belief in ‘talent meritocrats’ that is called into question whenever the prospect of public disgrace looms large for those whose career trajectories have been fast-tracked in recognition of their early promise.

And when mission becomes little more than a public relations exercise, it is no wonder that Peter Ball’s attention-grabbing establishment of four new monastic communities in just six years was considered by the Church of England hierarchy to bear the unmistakable hallmarks of burgeoning potential to become a senior leader.

The desire for self-preservation

Ultimately, self-preservation is the underlying motive behind senior leaders’ persistence in support for the precious champions of their cause, despite overwhelming evidence of abuse. Their primary concern is not the victims’ trauma, but instead avoidance of public disgrace for being such woefully poor judges of character.

Even after Ball’s conviction for sexual offences, there were still some in the highest echelons of the Church who found it hard to accept that they were so wrong about him. For example, one prominent Church leader told the IICSA panel: 'Peter was an immensely inspiring and charismatic person… I knew of his gifts' and 'theologically, I saw the possibility of a fresh start for him in a very limited fashion.'

In the wake of these horrid scandals, churches will only regain public trust by requiring a new kind of leader who isn’t fascinated with charm and careerism and who can swiftly end this relentless prioritisation of charism over character.

^{[1] Section C.5}