As both the Catholic
Church and the Liberal Democrats reel before fresh allegations about
abuse an institutional failures to investigate abuse allegations, I
have to ask, didn't we go through all this just a couple of months
ago with the Savile scandal? Whilst I never seriously expected the
revolution in attitudes that many people talked about then, even I
have been astounded by quite how quickly important lessons have been
forgotten.
There is – quite
rightly – hesitation about discussing some of these issues just
now. The accusations against Cardinal O'Brien and Lord Rennard have
thus far been untested in a court of law and we should always give
people the benefit of the doubt in such cases. But hiding behind this
is another issue with much wider-reaching potential consequences, and
that's something that isn't being discussed aggressively enough. Why
do we tolerate, again and again, the failure to investigate? Why is
so much airtime devoted to people saying “He was a very nice man
who wouldn't do that sort of thing,” and so little attention given
to the other side of the story?
Being generous, we
might say that there re some things so horrific people don't want to
talk about them, or don't know how to do so; or we might suggest that
these discussions are avoided in order to reduce the stress caused to
those who have been abused. The balance of reporting and comment by
some institutions, however, suggests something else. Several people
have already noted that Nick Clegg's vague statements about having
heard something but not having evidence is already reminiscent of
that hideous line from the Savile scandal “We had no evidence –
only the women.” Similarly Newsnight, so superficially contrite
after its failures in the Savile case, couldn't be apologist enough
when discussing the Pope's resignation, doing nothing to challenge
guests who dismissed allegations about the concealment of child abuse
as some sort of mild unpleasantness. Everybody loved the Pope, they
said, showing again that footage of people running after his car in
Edinburgh which had the sound cut out if it to suggest said people
were fans, when they were actually shouting in protest. Literally
silencing voices of dissent.
The BBC's initial line
on Cardinal O'Brien was similar. There was a huge emphasis on his
good work and a focus on how unfortunate it was that he should be
accused of unpleasantness (which it certainly is, if the allegations
are untrue, but hardly in proportion to the suffering of others if
they are not). But the worst came from the Cardinal himself,
dismissing historic child abuse with the line “It was a different
time,” as if there were, at some point in our recent past, a time
when somebody might have inadvertently assumed it was okay to rape a
child. In fact, the time when those alleged (and some proven)
incidents occurred was much like our own, right down to the
preference for covering it up, making it look as if it has all gone
away.
It doesn't go away.
Last month I was told
by a specialist doctor that I may very well be correct in identifying
the abuse I experienced as a child as a factor in triggering the
illness which keeps me housebound today. Autoimmune diseases are
significantly more common in child abuse victims. So are more obvious
things like PTSD which can, in some cases, be equally crippling. So
are anger issues that often lead to the breakdown of relationships in
adult life. So are difficulties in communicating that make it
difficult for survivors to find steady employment, make them
vulnerable to prejudice like that displayed in the Daily Mail's
hatchet job on poor Steve Mesham – and make it difficult for them
to pursue those responsible. For some, it gets better. For others,
the damage never goes away. The pain never stops. Why, then, did
Cardinal O'Brien think it was okay to talk about things happening
“long ago” as if that means we should forget about it?
Simon Wiesenthal said
that we should not dismiss historic crimes because that sends a
damaging message – not simply that if one evades justice for long
enough one can get away with them, but that we, as a society, are
prepared to tolerate all kinds of horrors once the pursuit of justice
become socially or politically inconvenient. This was true in the
1940s when he began his work and it's true today. It is a different
thing from saying that we should not forgive. Forgiveness has its
value, but we cannot forgive when there is no repentance – we
cannot simply sit back and pretend it never happened and look away as
it happens again.
Cardinal O'Brien,
whether inspired by contrition or convenience, has at least had the
wit to resign. Indeed, there are many who argue that the Pope's
surprise exit was similarly motivated. Nick Clegg, meanwhile, won't
let go of the shovel, digging himself a deeper hole with every
utterance. He doesn't seem to understand that this isn't about the
principle of habeas corpus – it's about whether or not those lower
down on the social ladder have access to justice at all. The proper
thing to do now is to stop trying to explain what happened and
support an independent investigation, which must be conducted in as
transparent a manner as possible.
I hesitate to single
out the LibDems for this kind of criticism because, though they are
the ones under the spotlight just now, they are hardly the only
political party to have had difficulties around such issues. I have
written here before of the problematic attitude of some Conservatives
towards rape and sexual harassment. I don't know what the Labour
Party is like these days but twenty years ago, when I was a member, I
encountered individuals there who were notorious for their wandering
hands, a problem routinely ignored by those higher up. It would
surprise me if any major party were exempt from such problems.
Abusive individuals will always be there. The issue is what
organisations – and society at large – do about them. When I talk
to other people who have experienced abuse, they frequently tell me
that they told someone at the time, or that people advised them later
that they'd had suspicions. By and large, abusers don't operate
completely unseen. They get away with it because other people choose
not to look. We need to start challenging that.
The media has a very
particular role to play here. Institutions like the BBC need to stop
cosying up to establishment figures, acting as if they couldn't
possibly do bad things. One of the ways abusers escape justice comes
down to people refusing to believe bad things about their friends.
Friendship means giving people the benefit of the doubt. It can mean
supporting them emotionally if they are distressed to find themselves
the target of allegations. It should not mean assuming that they are
beyond reproach. The simple fact of the matter is that anybody can
hurt others, and the ability to achieve a respectable position in
politics or to become a religious leader is meaningless.
Justice, if it is to
have any meaning, must apply universally. The assumption of innocence
must apply to everyone – not just the accused, but also their
accusers. It is not acceptable to write off confirmed institutional
abuse as a little late unpleasantness. Those who have done harm,
whether directly or through concealment, have a duty to put it right,
not least by approaching it with honesty – and until they do so,
they don't deserve anybody's respect. They certainly don't deserve to
be accorded moral authority.
Joseph Butler argued
that God created the conscience so that we can tell for ourselves
whether something is right or wrong. It is time certain people
stopped hiding behind rulebooks or fellow politicians and started
analysing theirs.
