If you don’t want to read the full 1,800 words, go to the 300-word TL;DR summary

During last month’s General Synod, I published several points about different debates. I held off on the key debate about independent safeguarding. That wasn’t because I didn’t care about it, but because I cared about it too much to rush a response. I have now had time to consider where the Church of England is on its move to independence in safeguarding, and these are my thoughts.

When the Church of England’s Archbishops’ Council sacked its “Independent” Safeguarding Board (ISB) in June 2023, the Archbishops’ Council promised swift action to put something better in its place. It commissioned Professor Alexis Jay to set out what independence would have to mean if the Church was to rebuild even a fraction of the trust it has lost.

The General Synod was not given the option to debate Professor Jay’s proposals in full. Instead, in February 2025, it debated “options” put forward by an Archbishops’ Council committee. After the February 2025 debate and vote, the synod received an interim report in July 2025 and a further update in February this year.

And yet, after all that, the Church of England is still only able to talk in generalities about “direction of travel”.

That phrase has become a comfort blanket. It sounds purposeful. It feels dynamic. It allows speeches about momentum and culture change. It also enables a familiar institutional manoeuvre: kick the can down the road — make promises that it is “moving forward” while moving the decisive action point further away.

The synod that couldn’t decide what “independence” meant

The February 2025 debate ought to have been a watershed. It came in the wake of Justin Welby’s resignation as Archbishop of Canterbury following the Makin review and the John Smyth scandal — an episode that intensified public scrutiny of safeguarding failures and institutional evasions.

Moving the motion, the Bishop of Stepney, Joanne Grenfell, framed the debate as being about building “the best foundations to support the work of our excellent safeguarding professional colleagues and volunteers”.

The chamber then filled with tributes to local safeguarding staff and volunteers. Again and again, bishops and members praised diocesan safeguarding advisers, diocesan teams and parish safeguarding officers.

The problem is not the gratitude. Most people in safeguarding roles will recognise the cost and strain of doing that work. The problem is the cognitive dissonance, which the synod never quite confronts.

If safeguarding in the Church of England is being delivered by “excellent safeguarding professional colleagues and volunteers”, why does GS 2429 still acknowledge that “many survivors do not have trust in the Church of England to properly manage safeguarding matters”?

If the system is so improved, why does the Church itself concede that “safeguarding complaints processes vary widely across dioceses and cathedrals”, and that this “undermines trust and leads to delays and confusion”?

You cannot reconcile those statements by congratulating everyone for trying hard.

Trust is not rebuilt by warm words. It is rebuilt by clarity, consistency and accountability. At the moment it mattered, the synod opted for none of those at speed.

In February 2025, the synod was asked to choose between two models (3 and 4), each claiming to deliver “greater independence” by transferring safeguarding staff to an external employer and by creating an external Scrutiny Body.

The motion as tabled would have made model 4 “the direction of travel”. But the synod did not choose that route. It endorsed model 3 “as the way forward in the short term” and called for “further work to be undertaken on the legal and practical requirements necessary to implement model 4”. That, in itself, was a decision to delay.

Some members argued that moving straight to model 4 risked creating a system that was “too big to fail”, citing concerns about trustee responsibilities and the Charity Commission’s expectations that trustees must retain the ability to intervene if safeguarding delivery fails.

Others stressed that “culture eats structure for breakfast”, and argued that diocesan safeguarding professionals embedded locally were best placed to challenge unhealthy patterns day by day.

But if delay is defensible, it must be disciplined. Delay needs a timetable, milestones and a defined decision point.

The synod did not impose them.

“Excellent safeguarding professional colleagues” — and a deficit of trust

Here is the line that should make the Church wince. The Bishop of Stepney told the synod that this debate was not about saving the Church’s reputation but about supporting “excellent safeguarding professional colleagues and volunteers”.

Later, the Bishop in Europe paid “tribute to the Church’s DSAs and DSTs”, saying the synod was “deeply grateful for the work that they do”.

These are not marginal voices. They are bishops, part of the Church’s senior leadership, speaking from the platform while the synod decides what independence is supposed to mean.

Now set those tributes alongside what members also said in the same debate.

One member said survivors “feel that the Church can no longer be trusted to manage its own safeguarding”. Another argued that “only complete independence within the Church of England will do”, warning against drifting into “independence-lite”.

GS 2429 later codifies the same reality in official prose: “many survivors do not have trust in the Church of England to properly manage safeguarding matters”.

So which is it? Excellent work, or a system unworthy of trust?

It is both — and that is precisely the Church’s problem.

You can have committed, skilled professionals working within a structure that victims and survivors experience as inconsistent, defensive, slow and conflicted. You can have good individuals inside a system that repeatedly fails to act with speed, transparency and independence.

The Church keeps trying to settle the argument by praising the individuals. It should be designing a system that does not depend on heroics.

The slow-motion reforms that became a way of avoiding reform

The July 2025 interim report promised that the programme team expected to bring “a substantial report” in February 2026 “that sets out firm proposals”. It acknowledged the urgency, while warning that legislation would take “at least two years”.

February 2026 arrived. The General Synod received GS 2429. It did not receive “firm proposals” in a form that could properly be debated and decided. Instead, it was asked to “welcome this update, endorse the direction of travel … and look forward to considering detailed proposals”.

That is the long grass in legislative language.

Worse, the synod had the chance to insist on deadlines — and declined.

An amendment would have required the Programme Board and Archbishops’ Council to bring forward, by July 2027, the “legislation and Code of Practice necessary” to establish the proposed Independent Safeguarding Authority and the mandatory national complaints framework.

Another amendment would have required detailed options and costings for transferring diocesan and cathedral safeguarding staff into independent employment under the new authority by July 2027, so that the synod could decide whether and when full local operational independence would happen.

Both amendments were lost. The motion was carried without them.

So the synod endorsed a “direction” while refusing to specify when the destination must be reached and refusing to require the information that would allow it to decide whether local operational safeguarding will ever be independent.

That is what kicking the can down the road looks like in ecclesiastical governance.

The shifting goalposts since Professor Jay

GS 2378 admits that the proposals brought to the synod “differ from the recommendations of Professor Jay in certain ways”.

That ought to have triggered a disciplined explanation of why those differences were justified and what risks were being accepted.

Instead, the Church has allowed its end-state to mutate.

GS 2429 says the 2025 model proposals “would need extensive legislation” and that “current safeguarding structures would continue to operate … for at least three years”. It then notes that stakeholders “reasonably expect much swifter progress” and proposes “a new end-state model” in response.

So we have moved from implementing a synodical decision to “knitting proposals together” into something new.

What is indefensible is not change, but vagueness. The synod is being asked to bless an evolving concept, with limited detail, on the promise that detail will come later.

This is precisely the governance failure that helped to doom the ISB: leaders “failed to define what they actually meant by independence”.

And yet, in February 2026, the synod again endorsed a general direction rather than a defined model with defined functions, duties, powers and measurable outcomes.

The functions that actually matter

The Church’s credibility in safeguarding is threadbare. If it wants to regain it, it must stop talking mainly about structures and start talking about functions.

GS 2378 identifies the core needs: consistency, equitable treatment and the reduction of “actual or perceived conflict of interest”. GS 2429 is blunter, acknowledging “perceived conflicts of interest”, particularly where clergy are seen to play decisive roles in safeguarding decisions concerning other clergy.

Whatever structure emerges, it must deliver at least four things:

• A single, mandatory complaints pathway with defined stages, defined timescales and a genuinely independent end-stage resolver.
  
  
• Independent scrutiny with teeth: standards, audits, published findings and enforceable follow-up.
  
  
• Clear operational independence for professional judgement — professionals whose independence of judgement is “respected and protected”.
  
  
• A disciplined decision about local operational independence, with a decision point set in the diary.
  
  

In 2025, the synod asked for further work. In 2026, it refused to require that work to be completed by a date certain.

That is not governance. It is avoidance.

A challenge to the Programme Board — and to the synod

The Safeguarding Structures Programme Board was created with a majority of independent members and an independent chair, explicitly because of the “lack of trust in the Church of England to deliver change”.

That is welcome. It is also an admission.

But the Board must now prove that it exists to deliver outcomes, not to launder delay.

Stop asking the synod to endorse “directions of travel”.

Bring concrete proposals that can be amended, debated and voted on. Put the functions on the page: who does what, when, with what powers, with what duty to comply, with what transparency, with what sanctions for failure, with what survivor access and support.

Do not hide behind complexity. Do not ask the synod to rubber-stamp aspiration. Treat it like a legislature, not a focus group.

And the synod itself must stop colluding in the evasion. If members believe the Church has “broken trust” and that rebuilding trust requires radical change, they must stop voting for motions that endorse a mood and defer the detail.

The Church has had enough “watershed moments”. It is time for measurable action: dates, duties, powers and deliverables — and a model that can be tested against the lived experience of victims and survivors, not against the institutional need to buy time.

tl;dr Independence delayed: General Synod backs “direction” over deadlines

Nearly three years after the Archbishops’ Council sacked the Church of England’s so-called Independent Safeguarding Board and promised swift reform, the Church is still talking about “direction of travel” rather than delivering a clear, measurable system of independent safeguarding.

The General Synod never debated Professor Alexis Jay’s recommendations in full. Instead, in February 2025, it was asked to choose between alternative models produced by the Archbishops’ Council. It opted for a short-term version (Model 3) and called for “further work” on the more far-reaching Model 4. That decision may have been defensible — but it was a decision to delay.

Since then, the synod has received an interim report (July 2025) and a further update (February 2026). Yet when the moment came to impose deadlines or require detailed, costed proposals — including legislation and a Code of Practice by July 2027 — amendments to do so were defeated. Instead, the synod simply “endorsed the direction of travel”.

Meanwhile, bishops praised “excellent safeguarding professional colleagues and volunteers”, even as official papers concede that “many survivors do not have trust in the Church of England to properly manage safeguarding matters” and that complaints processes “vary widely” and “undermine trust”.

That contradiction lies at the heart of the crisis. The issue is not whether individuals are hardworking and committed. It is whether the system is structurally independent, consistent and accountable.

Structures alone will not fix this. What is needed are defined functions: a mandatory national complaints pathway, independent scrutiny with real powers, protected professional judgement, and a firm timetable for deciding whether local safeguarding staff will ever be fully independent. The Church has had enough “watershed moments”. It now needs dates, duties and deliverables — not another report about where it might be heading.

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The Archbishops’ Council’s latest safeguarding paper to the General Synod is not merely inadequate. It is offensive.

Offensive not because it is clumsily written, or because it lacks polish, or even because it is complacent in tone. It is offensive because it has been produced, approved, and circulated as if the last six months had not happened at all.

The paper, a GS Misc report authored by the Council’s Director of Safeguarding, Alexander Kubeyinje, and dated “February 2026”, is not due to be debated. It is not scheduled for discussion. It will simply be placed before Synod and noted. And it offers a breezy account of progress, improvement, and confidence in direction at precisely the moment when confidence has collapsed.

That dissonance is not accidental. It is institutional.

Since the last meeting of General Synod, the Charity Commission has issued a formal rebuke to the Archbishops’ Council itself and official warnings to two Church of England charities. Those warnings are unprecedented in the modern history of the Church. They are not misunderstandings. They are regulatory findings of mismanagement in safeguarding.

In the same period, it emerged that an abuse survivor, known publicly as “N”, had a complaint about the Bishop of London improperly set aside by Archbishops’ Council staff, in direct contravention of the Church’s own safeguarding rules, requiring the matter to be reopened. That is not historic failure. That is recent practice.

At the same time, Parliament has rejected the draft Clergy Conduct Measure, citing fundamental concerns about secrecy, lack of transparency, and the inability to assess safeguarding consequences. Questions are now being asked in Parliament about whether the Archbishops’ Council is capable of handling safeguarding at all.

And yet, the Director of Safeguarding reports to Synod with a paper that reads as if none of this exists.

So the question must be asked plainly: is this institutional blindness? Or is it institutional contempt?

A report that gaslights survivors

Safeguarding reports are not neutral documents. They do not land in a vacuum. They are read by survivors, by victims, by advocates, by campaigners, and by those still trapped in Church processes. To write, at this moment, a report that foregrounds how well things are going is not merely tone-deaf. It is actively harmful.

It tells survivors that what they have experienced does not matter. It tells them that regulatory findings of failure are footnotes. It tells them that Parliament’s rejection of Church legislation is an inconvenience, not a warning.

If this is the best the Archbishops’ Council can produce after the last year, then the problem is not communications. It is governance.

The Director of Safeguarding may be the author, but this document did not emerge unexamined. It would have been read by senior staff. It would have been cleared. It would have been authorised for circulation. And that means it passed across the desk of the Secretary General, William Nye.

William Nye is not a bystander in this. He is not a junior official. He is the chief executive of the Archbishops’ Council and the secretary to its trustees. He understands governance. He understands regulatory risk. He understands, better than most, how this paper would be received by survivors and by the wider public if they were aware of it.

Which raises an unavoidable question: how did this paper come to be approved?

Blindness, cynicism, or something worse?

There are only three plausible explanations.

The first is that the Director of Safeguarding is so institutionally embedded that he is genuinely unable to see the scale of failure around him. That would be alarming in itself.

The second is that the Archbishops’ Council as a whole is institutionally blind: so insulated from consequence that regulatory warnings, reopened complaints, and parliamentary rejection barely register.

The third is more troubling still: that this paper is a deliberate act of defiance. A not-very-subtle message to Synod that says, in effect: things are bad; we know they are bad; you know they are bad; we know that you know they are bad — and we are going to carry on as if nothing is wrong.

If that is the case, then this is not incompetence. It is contempt.

And if the Secretary General knowingly allowed this paper to go forward, then responsibility rests with him as much as with its author.

Throwing someone under the bus?

There is another possibility, which should trouble Synod deeply.

Is this paper designed to fail?

Is the Alexander Kubeyinje being positioned as the public face of a narrative that senior leadership knows is indefensible — a convenient figure to be sacrificed when the backlash inevitably comes? That would be a familiar pattern: responsibility pushed downwards, accountability retained upwards.

If that is what is happening, it is cynical in the extreme. And if it is not, then the alternative is no less damning: that senior leadership genuinely believed this report was appropriate.

Either way, it speaks to a catastrophic failure of judgment at the centre of the Church.

Where are the trustees?

The Archbishops’ Council is a charity. Its members are trustees with individual legal duties: duties to act prudently, to avoid harm, and to ensure that the charity does not mislead those it affects.

So trustees must now ask themselves some very direct questions.

Did they know that the Director of Safeguarding intended to present such a report to Synod at this moment?

Did they know that the Secretary General would approve its circulation?

Did they consider the risk of harm to victims and survivors from a paper that presents a falsely reassuring picture?

And if they did not know — why not?

Trustees cannot hide behind process. Regulatory warnings have already made clear that passive governance is not acceptable. Silence is not neutrality. It is complicity.

Time for resignations

At this point, calls for “learning lessons” are an insult.

If a safeguarding director can produce a report this detached from reality, then he should not remain in post. If a Secretary General can approve its distribution in the aftermath of regulatory rebuke and parliamentary rejection, then he should not remain in post either.

This is not about punishment. It is about credibility.

Safeguarding cannot be led by people who are unable — or unwilling — to acknowledge failure when it is staring them in the face. It cannot be overseen by governance structures that respond to crisis with denial.

Resignations, or dismissals, are not acts of aggression. They are acknowledgements that leadership has failed and that trust has been broken.

Synod should not let this pass

General Synod should not allow this paper to be “noted” and forgotten. Members should ask why it was written, why it was approved, and why it bears so little relation to reality.

And the wider Church should ask a harder question still: if this is what the Archbishops’ Council is willing to say to its own Synod, what does it say behind closed doors?

Because one thing is now painfully clear.

The problem is not that the Church does not know how bad things are.

The problem is that those in charge appear determined to behave as if it does not matter.

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The Charity Commission’s Official Warnings to the dioceses of Liverpool and Chelmsford are unprecedented. For the first time, the statutory regulator has formally concluded that diocesan trustees committed mismanagement in their handling of safeguarding allegations. The findings are stark: trustees failed to investigate, failed to report, failed to ensure oversight, and failed to protect people who came into contact with their charities.

Given the seriousness of these conclusions, one might expect the diocesan responses to reflect a moment of reckoning. Instead, the statements issued by Liverpool and Chelmsford follow a familiar pattern – one that victims, survivors, advocates, and independent reviewers have been pointing out for decades. The words change slightly, the tone softens or hardens depending on the moment, but the underlying message remains the same: we are sorry, we disagree, we are learning, we are improving, trust us.

The Charity Commission has now said plainly what survivors have been saying for years: the Church’s safeguarding structures are inadequate. Yet the diocesan responses show that the institution still cannot hear it.

Chelmsford: “We respectfully disagree”

The Diocese of Chelmsford’s statement acknowledges the Commission’s warning but immediately distances itself from the findings. The diocese says it “respectfully disagrees with some of the conclusions,” particularly around trustee oversight. This is striking, because the Commission’s warning is explicit: trustees failed to consider or investigate a safeguarding complaint, failed to follow guidance, and failed to report a serious incident for two years.

Chelmsford’s response mirrors a long‑standing Church of England reflex: when confronted with external scrutiny, the instinct is to defend the institution rather than confront the failure. Survivors have heard this before – from the Elliott Review, the Gibb Report, the Makin Review, IICSA, and countless diocesan reviews. Each time, the Church expresses sorrow, but then qualifies, reframes, or disputes the findings.

The Commission is not a hostile campaigner. It is the statutory regulator. If even now the Church cannot accept its conclusions without caveat, what hope is there for genuine reform?

Liverpool: “We have already made changes” – but where?

Liverpool’s response, delivered through a written statement and a video message from the Interim Bishop and Diocesan Secretary, is more apologetic in tone. They “accept the findings,” they are “really sorry,” and they speak of “continuous learning” and “greater accountability.”

But then comes the familiar pivot: reassurance that “many changes have already been made.”

This is where the words and the reality diverge.

The Charity Commission’s findings in relation to relate to events in 2023 and 2025 – not ancient history, not decades‑old cases, but failures that occurred last year. If Liverpool had made significant safeguarding changes in the past 12 months, they would be visible in their public communications.

Yet a review of the diocese’s own website tells a different story:

• No major safeguarding reforms have been announced in the past year.
  
  
• The only safeguarding‑related posts are routine updates: staff changes, annual reports, and general reminders about best practice.
  
  
• There is no evidence of structural reform, new reporting mechanisms, trustee training initiatives, or governance changes that would address the Commission’s concerns.
  
  
• The diocese’s Synod reports focus on national debates, not local safeguarding improvements.
  
  

In other words, the “changes” Liverpool claims to have made are not visible in the public record. This is not to say nothing has happened internally – but when a regulator finds mismanagement, transparency is not optional. If the diocese wants to rebuild trust, it must show – not merely assert – that reform is underway.

The familiar pattern: Apologies without accountability

Both diocesan responses follow a script the Church of England has used for years:

1. Express sorrow
   
   
2. Acknowledge the seriousness
   
   
3. Disagree with or contextualise the findings
   
   
4. Assure the public that improvements are underway
   
   
5. Reaffirm commitment to safeguarding
   
   

What is missing – every time – is accountability.

No trustee resignations.
No structural overhaul.
No acceptance that the system itself is broken.
No recognition that survivors have been right all along.

The Charity Commission has now said what survivors have been saying for decades: the Church’s safeguarding processes are inadequate, its governance structures are flawed, and its culture prevents proper oversight.

Yet the diocesan responses still treat safeguarding failures as unfortunate lapses rather than symptoms of a system that cannot be fixed from within.

Why this matters: Trustees cannot hide behind bishops and the NST

One of the most important elements of the Charity Commission’s warnings is the clear statement that trustees are legally responsible for safeguarding. They cannot delegate that responsibility to bishops, archbishops, the Archbishops’ Council, or the National Safeguarding Team.

For years, diocesan trustees have been told – implicitly or explicitly – that safeguarding is “handled elsewhere.” The Commission has now made it clear that this is not acceptable. Trustees who fail to demand information, fail to challenge bishops, or fail to ensure proper reporting may face personal regulatory consequences.

The diocesan responses do not grapple with this reality. They speak of learning and improvement, but not of the profound shift in governance that the Commission’s findings require.

The unavoidable conclusion: Safeguarding must be independent

The Charity Commission’s warnings confirm what survivors, campaigners, and independent reviewers have been saying for years: the Church of England cannot police itself. Its safeguarding structures are too fragmented, too hierarchical, too secretive, and too compromised by conflicts of interest.

The diocesan responses – carefully worded, defensive in places, and lacking evidence of real change – only reinforce this point.

If safeguarding is to be credible, it must be independent, statutory, and external to the Church.

Fine words  are no longer enough. The regulator has spoken. The Church must now act.

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“I will build my church, and the gates of hell will not overcome it”, Jesus told Peter, as reported in Matthew 16:18.

The Church Jesus was talking about was the universal Christian Church of God, which includes Catholics, Anglicans, Orthodox, Lutherans, Baptists, Methodists and many others. Together, Christians around the world, of all flavours, are part of the Body of Christ.

The Church of England is part of that body, but it isn’t the whole of that body. When Jesus said that the gates of hell will not overcome his Church, it was the full universal Church of Christian believers that Jesus was talking about, not the Church of England.

Is Jesus bothered about the Church of England?

He is certainly bothered about the people of the Church of England; but I doubt very much if he is interested in the institution. If he was, he would not be impressed with how the Church of England continues to act in a perverse way to protect children and vulnerable adults – or, simply, “people”.

Jesus had harsh words to say for those who cause the people of God to question their faith: “if anyone causes those who believe in me to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea”, he said in Matthew 18:6.

Tonight’s Channel Four News broke another Church of England abuse scandal. This time, the allegations are that the Bishop of Liverpool, Dr John Perumbalath, sexually harassed a female bishop and sexually assaulted another woman. The bishop denies the allegations.

A complaint brought by the female bishop under the Clergy Discipline Measure was rejected because the Deputy President of Tribunals, Judge David Turner, refused to lift the one-year limitation period. Turner has been named in numerous other abuse allegations not being allowed to proceed to a tribunal.

Tonight’s report, by the redoubtable Cathy Newman, also reveals atrocious behaviour by the Archbishop of York, Stephen Cottrell. At the meeting of the Crown Nominations Committee, where Perumbalath’s name was put forward for consideration for the Liverpool position, CNC members were concerned that he had failed a safeguarding competency test.

Cottrell is said to have put pressure on the CNC members to overturn the vote.

At the time, Cottrell was aware of one of the two allegations – he was Bishop of Chelmsford when the first accusation was made against Perumbalath when he was Bishop of Bradwell – a suffragan bishop’s post in the Chelmsford Diocese.

Ring any bells?

Tonight’s Channel Four News didn’t include a response from Cottrell. Perhaps he is now wary of making public statements as he knows that what he says will be scrutinised to see if there is any spec of truth in what he says.

In the past, Cottrell has claimed to do “all in his power to minimise risk” only for his actual actions subsequently coming to light, showing that he did nothing to minimise risk at all. What he actually does is brush concerns under the carpet.

Stephen Cottrell: In your epiphany letter, you promised greater accountability and transparency. You have shown neither. And the questions in my open letter to you remains unanswered. So we now know for sure that despite these latest “fine words”, no action will follow and your words at epiphany are as hollow as your words have been over the years.

I now have some words for you: For God’s sake, Stephen Cottrell: Go. And go Now!

The Church of England might have a wobble if it loses two archbishops for safeguarding scandals. But it will have a bigger wobble if you try to stay and continue to do harm.

When Jesus said that the gates of hell will not overcome his church, he was talking about the universal Christian Church, not the Church of England.

But, in reality, if the Church of England is being damaged, it won’t be for losing two archbishops. It will be because a person who is clearly unfit for the role of archbishop clings on, putting own ambition above the needs of the Church.

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Last week I sent an open letter to the Archbishop of York, Stephen Cottrell, following his epiphany letter which promised a more accountable church.

I finished that letter by saying: “if your commitment to becoming an accountable church is more than ‘fine words’, you should have no problem answering my questions.

“If you refuse to answer these questions, then we will know for sure that despite these latest ‘fine words’, no action will follow and your words at epiphany are as hollow as your words have been over the years.”

Guess what: one week on, and Cottrell has opted not to respond.

The opportunity remains: Archbishop Cottrell, will you act on your words and promise of accountability or not?

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In his Christmas Day sermon in York Minster, the Archbishop of York Stephen Cottrell addressed – somewhat tangentially – the ongoing safeguarding crisis in the national church institutions.

Quoting Eliza Doolittle, he said: “Words, words, words! I’m so sick of words! I get words all day through, first from him, now from you… Don’t talk of stars burning above; If you’re in love, show me!”

(Oh, the irony of quoting “Do Little” at a time such as this!)

He went on: “Right now, this Christmas, God’s Church itself needs to come again to the manger and strip off her finery and kneel in penitence and adoration. And be changed.”

And he concluded his very brief sermon with these words: “Don’t just talk about justice, don’t just talk about joy, don’t just talk about service, don’t just talk about love. Show me.”

Victims and survivors of church-related abuse, and those who speak and advocate for them, are all well aware of Stephen Cottrell’s fine words. Over the years he has used many fine words to talk about safeguarding. But we have rarely, if ever, seen any fine action.

We can say the final words of his Christmas sermon back to him: “Don’t just talk about justice, don’t just talk about joy, don’t just talk about service, don’t just talk about love. Show us.”

And in case you think this is just an opportunistic attack on Stephen Cottrell, I have today republished two posts that I originally published on this blog in August 2021, with the tag “Fine Words”.

I called the first one “Walk the Talk”. It was extracted from Cottrell’s speech to the General Synod in a debate about the IICSA report.  On 25 November 2020, Cottrell said: “I realise now I was ordained into a Church that when it came to safeguarding was concerned, first of all, to protect its own reputation; secondly, to limit damage; and, thirdly, most shamefully, to ignore abuse and its consequences. Over the last 30 years or so, I have seen the Church change and I have been part of that change in different ways.”

Victims, survivors and advocates have seen no change from the central Church of England structures. That same desire to protect its own reputation remains – as can be seen this month by Cottrell’s original statement about the David Tudor case, which was then found to be more lies after a BBC investigation found he had voluntarily renewed Tudor’s licence as area dean.

I called the second one “Lead by example”. It was a statement about a previous safeguarding failure, and he had issued the statement on 29 June 2020, in the period after he had been named as the Archbishop of York, but before he took up his post.#

In it, he said: “it is absolutely essential that I am open and transparent about the need for the whole of our church to be scrupulously honest with each other about any failings in safeguarding.

“In the past, the Church of England has been too quick to protect its own reputation and slow to admit its failings. This must change. Those in public office should be subject to scrutiny.”

And he concluded: “I want to go on the record about what has happened in order to demonstrate a new spirit of openness and transparency over how we ensure that the Church is as safe as it can be, that survivors are listened to and dealt with honestly, and perpetrators brought to justice.”

Why oh why didn’t he listen to his own advice when he was preparing his response to BBC Radio 4’s File on Four expose of the David Tudor case?

Why didn’t he demonstrate that “new spirit of openness and transparency”?

Why didn’t he ensure that the Church is as safe as it can be?

Why didn’t he listen to survivors and deal with them honestly?

Why wasn’t the perpetrator brought to justice, but rewarded with a post of area dean and an honorary canonry of Chelmsford Cathedral?

Stephen Cottrell, don’t just talk about justice, don’t just talk about joy, don’t just talk about service, don’t just talk about love. Show us.

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Archbishop Stephen Cottrell’s statement about a safeguarding failure

29 June 2020

Ten years ago I was approached about a safeguarding allegation regarding a priest. I was able to see the survivor and begin to hear what was a difficult and harrowing story. However, I was moving between roles at the time and although I did speak with colleagues about the actions that needed to be taken, I failed to ensure that these were properly documented and followed through in the way I would expect.

Now that I have discovered that this incident was not followed up as it should have been, I am deeply distressed and extremely sorry.

Because this has recently come to light, I am both thankful that it is being addressed properly now, but also mindful that in my new position as Archbishop of York it is absolutely essential that I am open and transparent about the need for the whole of our church to be scrupulously honest with each other about any failings in safeguarding.

In the past, the Church of England has been too quick to protect its own reputation and slow to admit its failings. This must change. Those in public office should be subject to scrutiny. Good safeguarding is an absolute priority for the Church of England and for me personally.

In the diocese of Chelmsford where I have served for the past ten years, I have been helped by survivors I have worked with, as well as a first-rate safeguarding team, to have a much greater understanding of why safeguarding itself is so important and how we must be prepared to confront our failings and learn from them.

Therefore, although I am embarrassed that I did not follow this up as scrupulously as I should have done ten years ago, I want to go on the record about what has happened in order to demonstrate a new spirit of openness and transparency over how we ensure that the Church is as safe as it can be, that survivors are listened to and dealt with honestly, and perpetrators brought to justice.

Archbishop Stephen Cottrell
Official C of E Statement, June 2020

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Archbishop Stephen Cottrell addresses the General Synod in a a debate about the IICSA report

25 November 2020

I was ordained into a Church, and IICSA has showed us this so, so shamefully, but I realise now I was ordained into a Church that when it came to safeguarding was concerned, first of all, to protect its own reputation; secondly, to limit damage; and, thirdly, most shamefully, to ignore abuse and its consequences. Over the last 30 years or so, I have seen the Church change and I have been part of that change in different ways.

So, now, we do not ignore abuse. We train clergy and we have a way of protecting children and vulnerable adults. We have made some progress but there is still obviously a third stage of change that we need to go through. . .

The first and the most important is that we change our culture. There is a culture of clericalism and deference in our Church and that cannot continue because it is deeply, deeply unhealthy and it allows some of us to find ourselves in positions where people feel that somehow we have become above reproach and that we cannot be criticised.

This is really, really bad for us. Part of this culture change, therefore, must mean that, when we make mistakes – because we will make mistakes and things will go wrong, we will not always get it right – part of the culture change is to be open and transparent about that as followers of Jesus Christ. . .

Therefore, we welcome independent scrutiny and we look and reach out to the survivors and offenders who have reached out to us, saying “We want your help. We want to build a new culture. We want to stop being in this place where we have to keep saying sorry”. Goodness, I am deeply, deeply shamed and deeply, deeply penitent.

I am finding myself, in this new role, falling to knees in sorrow and shame for what has happened but, more importantly, I want to rise up and be the change and make the change we need to make, which is primarily one of culture but, therefore, must mean that we welcome independent scrutiny and that we get on urgently with the business of reparation.

Getting all this right, Synod, is going to cost us a lot of money. Getting it wrong is going to cost us our soul.

Archbishop Stephen Cottrell
General Synod, November 2020

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