I was at Winchester College at the time. I had been educated away from home since the age of 7. With respect to all the adults that I met during those years of boarding school, John Smyth was probably the first man who seemed genuinely interested in me. Only a ‘charming’ and ‘delightful’ man could have attracted so many young, impressionable men into his cult.

I was beaten by John on a 4-6 weekly basis from the age of 16 to 21. I was ‘in’ at the beginning and ‘out’ at the very end. I actually brought about the end of the beatings in the UK when I tried to commit suicide because I couldn’t face the ‘special’ beating that he had planned for my 21st birthday. By then, for me, it had been over four years and thousands and thousands of lashes. My body couldn’t take it anymore. My mind was frozen in trauma. I was ready to die. Death would have been a relief.

That was in 1982. In 2016, a friend and fellow victim told me that Channel 4 were conducting an investigation into John Smyth – an investigation into the alleged physical abuse that John Smyth handed out in the UK and subsequently continued in Zimbabwe. The first words that my friend said were ‘I hope you don’t mind me telling you…’ but we soon reflected that in fact neither of us minded that complete strangers were uncovering our secret past.

We were in fact overjoyed, elated. Why? Well over the intervening years, all of those who had been involved in the beatings had gradually drifted away from each other and lost touch. We had all been great friends at school, often best friends at university and Iwerne Trust Christian camps but, as we had grown older and appreciated the acts of John Smyth for what they were, a terrible catalogue of abuse, we simply found it easier not to meet up, not to socialise, because every time that we saw each other it reminded us of the horrors of the past and, equally troubling, the fact that none of us or our families had ever reported John Smyth to the police, none of us had ever broken the bond of secrecy that we had sworn to him and each other while the abuse was occurring.

And so, in our adult years we had become gradually isolated, intentionally separated from each other. Why am I saying ‘we’ and not just reflecting my own experience? Because, once I learned that Channel 4 were investigating John Smyth. I found that instead of wishing to remain isolated, I positively wanted to search out all my old friends, my fellow victims. I wanted to reconnect and spread the news that Channel 4 and the Daily Telegraph (not any of the institutions that we had imagined might one day get in touch) wanted to listen to our story, to understand our experiences with John Smyth, to build a picture of everything that had occurred to us from 1978 to 1982.

The world is quite different now. I found most of my old friends and fellow victims within a few minutes of opening  my laptop: they were on Facebook, LinkedIn, all the social media sites. We were pretty much all there. And we were all delighted to make contact. In the four months that I was involved in assisting various reporters, I have either spoken to or messaged about half of John Smyth’s alleged 22 UK victims. I have even spoken to one of the people who described to me the very similar way that John Smyth had beaten him in Zimbabwe.

In those conversations, I soon became aware of an interesting thing. None of us were really bothered to talk about John Smyth. We knew everything that he had done to each of us. How appalling it had been. How cruelly and malevolently he had used some individuals in particular. That went without saying. We also weren’t particularly curious about what jobs we were doing, whether we had married, had children etc. That didn’t seem important. We were most concerned about each other’s well-being, we kept saying ‘I hope you’re okay.’ Even as we talked or messaged, we continually checked that the other person was comfortable with describing how they felt.

And we discovered that although we had experienced a wide range of mental turmoil, depression and trauma in the intervening years, we all universally had an impression that the media investigation was a GOOD THING - that although it was difficult, shameful to talk to the Channel 4 team and reporter Peter Robertson on behalf of the Daily Telegraph, it  was actually a cathartic experience. Because someone was asking us sympathetically what had happened, how we felt. And we all felt a bit better for it.

Because, Archbishop, that is one of the important points that I would like to convey in this letter, from all the victims that I have been in touch with, no matter how different our outcomes. The media asked us, we told, they listened and they reported. Prior to that, none of us had been contacted since 1983 by any of the four institutions that had known our story or had come to learn of it. Actually, that’s not quite true. One of us, one of the victims had contacted the church himself in 2012, reported his experiences, which in turn prompted the police ‘investigation’ that you told us about in your comments to the press.

But that was him bravely contacting the church , not the church or any institution contacting him. And we know that the police investigation collapsed very quickly because they have said that they were not provided with enough evidence to make a case.

So, let’s consider these four institutions, the ones who at some point or other knew about John Smyth’s abuse before the Telegraph’s first story last Thursday morning:

The Iwerne Trust – were aware of the whole story in 1982. I can say that unequivocally because they commissioned a report by your fellow Iwerne Minster Officer and great friend the Reverend Mark Ruston in the Spring of 1982. Channel 4 showed me the report. It has the initials of the Iwerne Trustees at its head, many of whom are still alive, some holding very influential positions in the Church of England.

It’s an incredible account. It contains, in my opinion, the whole story in a few pages. Every detail is correct to my mind: the number of victims, the scale of the abuse, the criminal act that was broken, the trauma that the victims were likely to suffer. Amazing.  A couple of months after I tried to commit suicide in 1982, everything that anyone would need to know Mark Ruston has written down.

Identities of all the victims are protected by initialisation but I’ve subsequently found out that in order to compile the report enormous efforts were made to contact my friends and fellow victims. They had nearly all been interviewed by Mark Ruston. That’s why it’s so accurate. It’s a succinct distillation of everything the victims knew and some remarkable interpretation by Mark Ruston himself.  At the time, I was in hospital. He didn’t contact me. But even though I never met him I still to this day consider it to be completely accurate.

The Titus Trust – set up in 1997 and who took over the Iwerne Trust fundraising and have run very similar Christian camps for young teenagers up to the present day. Time and space prevents me from naming the personnel who have been involved in both Titus and the Iwerne Trust. Titus have told the media (not the victims) that they were aware, by their own admission, in 2014 of John Smyth’s activities. They’ve said that this was the first they’d ever heard of the abuse.

Apparently, Mark Ruston’s report that the Iwerne Trust commissioned in 1982 somehow never got handed over in the paperwork exchange between Iwerne and Titus. Somehow, all the people who were involved at any time in both the charities never mentioned anything about John Smyth’s horrific practice to each other. We do know that Titus asked Andrew Graystone, a PR advisor to Christian organisations, to advise them about how to deal with the knowledge that they had suddenly ‘discovered’.

Mr Graystone recommended to the Titus Trust that they should make a full, proper independent investigation, inform the police and contact any institution or individual that might have known anything about John Smyth in order that the Titus Trust would be able to reveal the whole story. And, as Mr Graystone advised, that this was the specific, unequivocal type of action that would be most helpful to the victims of the abuse.

Titus didn’t hold that independent investigation. Instead, they relieved Mr Graystone of his advisory position and got in touch with their lawyers. They did notify the police. The police never contacted myself or any of the victims that I have spoken to. It appears that, outside of the one victim who had reported John Smyth, there was no corroboration from anyone or any institution that persuaded the police that there was enough evidence for the investigation to continue. The victim who reported was told as much. Titus offered him no direct support, admitted no responsibility.

Two private individuals (one of whom Channel 4 has identified as David Fletcher of the Iwerne Trust) paid anonymously for 10 therapy sessions. To put that useful counselling into perspective, I have been lucky enough to have received approximately 400 hours of therapy. I am still receiving therapy at the Maudsley Hospital in London and the therapy I’m receiving now is fantastic, really helpful. But it took me 10 years to find a therapist who could even identify the exact nature of my trauma. 10 years for me. Only 10 sessions offered to the one victim who reported. And none of those sessions paid for by the Titus Trust.

Winchester College – informed of the abuse in 1982 by the Iwerne Trust. I say the College, because it was actually the headmaster of the College, John Thorn, who  was informed by David Fletcher on behalf of the Iwerne Trust. I know that the Headmaster confronted John Smyth and drew up an undertaking for Smyth to sign, to prevent him from ministering to young children again. One of my parents saw that undertaking. Other victims’ parents too. But they never saw that document signed by John Smyth. And I know crucially that the promise at the bottom of the document that the Headmaster, John Thorn, made as his own personal ‘undertaking’ – a promise that he would distribute to all future headmasters was not kept. I know this for certain. I’ll tell you how I know, when we meet.

The Church – it’s really over to you on this one. I’m sure that you’ll tell me all the details from your end and 2012 onwards when we meet. So that can wait. Wow! That was a long letter. But then it has been over forty years since I first met John Smyth. I hope that some of what I’ve written has given you an indication of how difficult the silence of those last forty years have been.

The final thing that I would like to say is that, from my perspective, it’s not about institutions and organisations; all of those four institutions that I’ve listed include good people doing important, valuable work. So, for me, it’s all about specific individuals. It’s about John Smyth. Myself. The other victims. And all those individuals who have known about this story during those 40 years - and said nothing.

My therapist likes to keep thing simple, which is useful for me. She tells me that there is a triangle in abuse: the ‘abuser’, the ‘victims’ and the ‘observers’ (observers are people who knew but never reported appropriately). I personally find it quite easy to think about John Smyth, the abuser. The victims too. But considering the observers is much, much more difficult. Technically speaking, as a victim, I am ‘excused’ from being an observer (no matter how much I feel like one) but the observers in the John Smyth case include my closest family, everyone who has supported me throughout the years.