BishopAccountability.org
	Child Abuse Scandal — Sound Familiar? By Russell Wangersky The Western Star November 27, 2009 http://www.thewesternstar.com/index.cfm?sid=306797&sc=27 First off, I hold no brief for any particular religion. I’ve attended Anglican services, United Church services, and even some Catholic services. My religion is pretty much my own — but if you must know, it has a lot more to do with a belief in some great natural order. Perhaps it’s the kind of thing that anyone who lives outside organized religion eventually comes up with — the idea that some many things tie so carefully together, and that there is so much wonder in the world, that it is hard to believe that there is not an overriding order to all things. In fact, when parts of my world have fallen apart, I’ve wished I had a particular faith, just because those who have it are so buoyed by it in times of loss. But this is not really a column about religion — nor is it an attempt to castigate any particular faith. This is a column about institutional failings, and, in fact, institutional failings on a huge scale. Thursday, the Irish government released a report they’ve had since July, a report into the behaviour of police and of Catholic archbishops and how complaints of child sexual abuse — on a staggering scale — were covered up. The language may be familiar to those who remember scandals involving the clergy here. “The welfare of children, which should have been the first priority, was not even a factor to be considered in the early stages,” the report says. “Instead the focus was on the avoidance of scandal and the preservation of the good name, status and assets of the institution and of what the institution regarded as its most important members — the priests.” The report comes after an earlier report on Irish church-run schools, workhouses and orphanages implicated scores of orders — including the Irish Christian Brothers — of rape, beatings and mental abuse. In all, more than 12,000 victims have received compensation. Child abuse in itself is monstrous, but the report actually goes further, maintaining that, from the 1960s to the 1990s, four consecutive Dublin archbishops deliberately kept files on abusive priests hidden from authorities, and also moved priests from parish to parish in an effort to cover up their assaults. Police treated complaints about priests differently, sometimes even turning over allegations to the archdiocese rather than conducting investigations. It’s not a new complaint: in fact, if anything, what’s so unnerving about this report in Ireland is that it mirrors experiences in Newfoundland and Labrador, in San Francisco, in Boston and the list goes on and on. You couldn’t mirror the behaviour so completely if you had a handbook explaining just what you were supposed to do with abusive priests. Child abuse happens in many places ‹ there’s no defence of the behaviour whatsoever.It is not in any way restricted to priests or reverends or hockey coaches or teachers. It is a human failing, and it does not matter if you wear a collar or not. A glance at any court docket would tell you that. But mercy, there were a lot of priests. The report investigated 46 in the Dublin archdiocese who had, between them, 320 sexual assault complaints filed against them. Those 46 were among 150 Dublin priests implicated in sex offences since 1940. One priest estimated he left a trail of more than 100 victims. Another said he abused victims once every two weeks — for 25 years. But what is the most amazing part of this tawdry tale is the behaviour of the archbishops involved. Leave religion out of it — at least, leave religion out as much as you can when you are talking about an institution that is supposed to provide a constant refuge from abuse. Think of the church not as a faith, and not as a particular assembly, either. Think of it as a business, or even a branch of government. And then stop and think what sort of person, left in charge of a division of that business, would involve themselves in the systematic coverup of not one sexual offence, but hundreds. After all, this is not a sin of omission: the bishops involved deliberately kept files on abusive priests in a secret, locked vault inside the Dublin archbishop’s residence. Even when one archbishop did hand over files on particular priests, he kept other files hidden from investigators. Institutionally, there is something very wrong here. Twice might be a coincidence; similar behaviour from four archbishops make that seem unlikely, as does the fact that remarkably similar behaviour has occurred in other jurisdictions. Part of the Irish government’s response was to say that the investigation “shows clearly that a systemic, calculated perversion of power and trust was visited on helpless and innocent children in the archdiocese.” It certainly does. But the system wasn’t fallen priests — the system was being calculated by a level of administration above the fallen. The fact that these were clergy obviously makes it worse. It doesn’t matter what faith, and this isn’t a matter of what faith. What matters is that it happened, that people who were supposed to be a source of hope and help, hurt children instead. And those in charge, even if they weren’t abusers, aided and abetted. It’s not the failure of a religion, it is the failure of a hierarchy focused on something quite different than mercy. Russell Wangersky is The Telegram’s editorial page editor. He can be reached by email at Contact: rwanger@thetelegram.com
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