Clare’s blog, aka rantspace

Catholic priest John Haines has been convicted of offences of child porn (see here). And it was entirely due to his own stupidity! Now I suspect the average person is not going to believe that ANYone can be as stupid as Haines was in this case, but here’s the story: Haines had a thing for taking pix of his child victims on his mobile phone. Not unusual. But when he subsequently donated the phone to a parishioner, WITHOUT removing all the pix, he dropped himself right in it. (I told you you wouldn’t believe it ) If this had been a life and death situation, Haines would win a top Darwin award! Thankfully, the parishioner had a decent sense of right and wrong (unlike the one who gave a character witness in court) and took the phone to the police. One wonders if the parishioner who gave a character reference would have been so ready to do so if they’d seen/discovered the pics themself! And also thankfully, the judge’s response to the character references was that Haines’ apparent decency only makes the breach of trust even more profound. This is a far cry from the past attitude of judges, which was to see the aberrant behaviour as somehow more excusable because the priests involved were good on the surface. That attitude, and that of the parishioners who defended Haines as being “not like that”, is based on a fairytale perspective on life (see my blog entry here). It’s encouraging to see some shift, however slight. The lawyer defending him (who was obviously pushing shit uphill, but sometimes that’s what lawyers have to try to do), tried the defence that Haines was sexually inexperienced due to a prohibition on sex for Catholic priests. Perhaps he was (although it seems he was getting some experience!), but how much experience does it take for a Catholic priest to know these days that child porn is wrong? Should it, in fact, take any experience at all? Surely we have a right to expect that those who preach morality should have a working understanding of it for themselves!

Haines is now on “administrative leave”, but one has to hope that the Catholic Church will defrock him rather than follow his example of stupidity and immorality by allowing him to remain a priest.

Hollingworth has conceded he thinks the job of GG was wrong for him (see here).  Let’s hope it hasn’t taken him until now to come to that conclusion, because abuse victims could have told him that years, if not decades, ago. They could have told him that when he reassured victims he was “keeping a close eye” on how abuse complaints were being dealt with, but which later inaction he justified as “not being directly involved in”. They could have told him that when he refused to defrock a clergyman (a bishop by the time of the complaint) for underage sex, which he justified as the (14yo) victim’s instigation. They could have told him that when he appointed a clergyman against whom there were two known abuse allegations to a post on the diocesan sexual misconduct complaints committee.

And now Hollingworth tries to justify his failure based on some perceived, or unperceived (it’s not really clear which) separation of church and state. He obviously still doesn’t get it! The public disillusionment with him was nothing to do with any link or otherwise between church and state – it was simply and purely that he stood exposed as miserably inadequate in dealing with sexual immorality in his subordinates, and pitifully shameless in his attempts to wriggle out of responsibility for his poor judgement. Moreover, his supposed moral (religious) and ethical (social welfare degree) education had obviously done nothing to improve him.

Churchman or not, such qualities are not what we want to see in a GG.

Many people think that spiritual abuse only happens in cults, and if they belong to a mainstream denomination they complacently assume that it doesn’t happen at their church.  And I’ve certainly never known of or heard about a sermon being preached on it, even in more liberal churches.  As a result, the average person in the pews has no idea what constitutes spiritual abuse, and thus doesn’t recognise it when they see (or hear) it.   And, out of that ignorance, clergy abuse victims who proceed to a complaint find themselves at a loss as to how to deal with spiritual abuse when it’s used against them, as it all too often is.

One of the books recommended on my website is an excellent treatise on this subject – “The Subtle Power of Spiritual Abuse” (Johnson and vanVonderen).  Here is a quick checklist from it:
1. Power-posturing – does the leader assert their own authority?  eg. “I am the pastor of this flock”, with the implication (or overt assertion) that his word is final, or the opinion which everyone should heed most.  Sometimes this power-posturing is not actually expressed verbally, but if those who disagree with the minister are frozen out or otherwise victimised for doing so, that equates to the same thing.

2. Performance preoccupation – or “doing God’s will”.  If emphasis is placed primarily on what people do or don’t do, and particularly if this is equated with salvation or grace, this is performance preoccupation.  Obedience and submission are key words in this characteristic.  Johnson and vanVonderen make the point that obedience itself is not the problem, it’s keeping track of it that is, because that turns obedience to God into a means of earning spiritual brownie points.  Again, this can be unexpressed rather than overt, if shame is inherent in admitting to failing to measure up to a particular standard of obedience (for example, where doing “quiet times” [personal bible study and prayer] is used as a measure of a person’s holiness, and particularly if a set minimum amount of time is insisted upon.  Church attendance is another likely point).

3. Unspoken rules – often these contradict the bible, and because they’re unspoken you don’t find out about them until you break them.  Then you suffer the consequences of breaking them, whether that be open censure, or surreptitious condemnation, or ostracism.  For example, abuse victims who disclose their abuse get criticised for “not leaving it to God to deal with” or for “damaging the pastor’s ministry” or for “telling lies about the minister, who’s such a good man”.  In this case, the unspoken rules are a) don’t tell the truth if it confronts or threatens our security, b) don’t act as an instrument of God’s justice if it means asserting your own right to individual conscience, and c) if everything’s ok on the surface, then don’t tell about anything rotten underneath.
According to Johnson and vanVonderen, the most powerful unspoken rule is the “can’t talk” rule – which can be otherwise expressed as: “if you talk about the problem, you are the problem”.  They say that two typical responses to someone who exposes a problem are “everything was fine until you started stirring things up”, or (to sound super-spiritual) “you didn’t deal with it in a loving [or, mature Christian] way”.  The blame which ensues on exposure of a problem pressures the talker back into silence.  In a spiritually abusive dynamic, noticing and speaking about problems is seen as disloyal, unsubmissive, divisive and a challenge to authority (or the system), and the talker is characterised as ungodly, vengeful, a liar, or being used by Satan.

4. Lack of balance – that is, an unbalanced approach to living a Christian life.  Johnson and vanVonderen say this shows itself in either of two extremes: extreme objectivism, where the authority of the biblical text and/or theological education is elevated to the exclusion of valid subjective experience (they neatly summarise this as the trinity of Father, Son and Holy Bible!); or extreme subjectivism, where truth is given to the members solely or primarily through “revelations” or “God’s word to me for you”.  Both are used by those in authority in a church (and those who would like to be in authority!) to manipulate and control.

Other contenders for spritually abusive characteristics:
1) Loyalty to the group/minister is equated to loyalty to God.
2) Using biblical texts to assert control.
3) Pressure to convert – for example “we don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, and it’s important you make a decision NOW”.
4) Guilt giving – that is, intimidation to give, such as “giving less than X is withholding yourself from God [or, stealing from God, according to Malachi 3:8]“.
5) Inherited leadership – such as the minister’s son becoming the youth leader, without any form of selection process.  This, in itself, is not abusive, but it certainly allows for the perpetuation of abuse by keeping the already-established patterns of behaviour in-house.  Unfortunately, in a congregation that is being systematically spiritually abused, such inherited leadership is often celebrated rather than questioned.

Abuse may be defined as “using power to control another’s actions”.  Physical abuse uses physical power, sexual abuse uses sexual power, financial abuse uses financial power, and spiritual abuse uses spiritual power.  Any time that someone is pressured into doing something by the use of religious doctrine or faith community pressure, they are being spiritually abused.

Many people find it hard to understand the longterm effects of clergy sexual abuse on a victim, and particularly what effect it has on the practice of their faith.  In 20 years of telling my story to hundreds of churchgoers, only once have I ever had enthusiastic encouragement not to go to church when I described how painful it is.  The following was written by me as part of an email discussion with churchgoers, and seemed to be worth posting here.  As an Anglican victim, some of the things that bother me will be different to what is painful for a Catholic victim, and different again for members of other denominations and faiths, but I offer this as a small insight into the retraumatisation that happens when a clergy abuse victim goes to church.

There are two main problems for me in going to church: one is the language, building, atmosphere – the whole “church” experience – that makes it impossible for me to walk into church without feeling terror (literally).  The second problem is the attitude (which is intertwined with the theology).

The first problem – of language, building, atmosphere, etc – encompasses so much that church people take for granted.  A few examples:
1) the building itself.  Obviously, the more similar a church is to the one where I was abused, the more dangerous it feels, but it goes for any church.  Have you ever had a car accident, and been extra nervous at that spot the next few times you went through it, or even other spots like it? Multiply that a million times and you’ll begin to have a faint idea of what I mean.
2) closing my eyes to pray (and bowing my head, and kneeling [in churches where that happens]) are all danger signals for me.  This one sometimes isn’t too bad, because everyone else has their eyes closed so they don’t see that I don’t
3) the collection (or offering, if you want to call it that).  I choose not to financially support a system that abused me.  But when the plate, or bag, or what-have-you is passed along the pews, it is very obvious to those around you that you aren’t contributing.  And those who don’t contribute, by definition, are considered to be outside the clique that is the parish family.
4) passing the peace is a danger time.  I’m VERY protective of my physical and psychological boundaries when I’m in an unsafe space to start with, but it’s incredibly hard to make that point to people who think passing the peace is good.  I can’t shake hands, or say the formatted response.  I can manage a half-smile and a thankyou sometimes, but that’s it.  Mostly, the feeling of threat it carries for me will put me in tears anyway.  So I sit there, hoping people won’t approach me, and having to be rude and ignore their outstretched hand when they do come up to me.  (For churchgoers reading this – try it sometime!  Sit in your pew when everyone starts to move around to pass the peace, imagine feeling utterly terrified and profoundly vulnerable, and when people come up with outstretched hand, keep your arms folded, and don’t reply.  And remember that you’re doing it someplace where everyone already knows your character and won’t just assume you’re rude!)
5) the language – this is a much harder one to describe, but is partly about what I have learnt since to be dangerous (in predisposing a system to allow abuse within it) and partly about the forms of words that specifically remind me of the disparity between what I believed and what happened to me.  Hymns are good examples.  Ones that refer to god rescuing us from all ills, or god as father (my abuser was fatherly), or even particular hymns that I only ever really sang at the abusive church, will all leave me undone and crying, which is pretty damn embarrassing in a place where no-one understands, and mostly where they don’t want to know…
6) …which leads into the last thing: church people often (dare I say mostly?) have a huge emotional/spiritual investment in their beliefs and the system which undergirds it.  In fact, many many church people depend far more on the system than on the theology.  So if you threaten that system (either actually, by – for instance – going public with an abuse complaint, or in their mind, by telling one’s history of abuse by a minister) many of them are sufficiently turned off that at best they merely murmur a few platitudes and then make their excuses to leave you alone.  That’s a pretty powerful rejection.  Or worse, they try to talk you into coming back to church because “god can heal you if you just let him” (thereby subtly placing the blame for you not being healed squarely on your perceived resistance to god).

That’s a very longwinded, but still short, summary of the first problem.  The second problem, of attitude/theology is simpler to express: christians in general believe that Jesus is the way to god.  The degree to which they assert he is the ONLY way varies.  But the more they believe that, the harder it is for them to see that any variation on their belief is equally legitimate christianity.  In other words, they end up in a “so-and-so is in, but the other guy’s out” kind of mentality.  And the more important it is for them to define what constitutes acceptability, the less open they are to accepting those who, by their definition, are “out”.  And abuse victims, who by their own actions are perceived by the church community as threatening to the system, are deemed “out”, and are therefore excluded.

And this kind of defensiveness ends up being blind faith in the system and what it teaches, rather than blind faith in god.  A brief example: when I went public with my story, I was teaching scripture in the same school as some of the abuser’s congregants.  One of them, who was also a member of the abuser’s parish council, took me to task over going public (as most christians do – they’d rather not know!).  I challenged him to discuss my claims, and he said “it’s your word against his, and I’ll give double honour to an elder”.  Now, he hadn’t asked me what proof I had (sworn statements by other people of admissions the abuser had made to them, including another minister) and even when I told him, he preferred to defend the abuser.  That’s not faith in god, because god is about justice and integrity and honesty – it’s faith in the system and the system’s endorsement of the abuser as an ordained minister.

(And as for the system… in my case the abuser admitted it to the archbishop, but the archbishop never made that admission public, and then the church spent hundreds of thousands of dollars fighting me in court when they knew it to be true… and it took 10 years of being in the public eye and a change of archbishop before I even got an apology!)

If all this was only my experience, or if it had only been one short experience, I might still be in the church.  But it’s the experience of countless clergy abuse victims, in every denomination, and sustained over an unbelievable length of time.  Leaving ends up being a result of a) seeing that most church theology breeds that kind of person, plus b) choosing not to support that system, plus c) choosing to avoid hurtful people and situations.

Let me be clear that I’m referring to churchgoers in general here, not just clergy.  Though different denominations have different structures, and different ways of co-ordinating those structures, and even differing theologies, they all function in very much the same ways when it comes to crushing those who presume to question their goal/aim/theology/methods.  Shoot the messenger, discredit the messenger, stonewall the messenger, and silence anyone they can.  In the course of my life, I’d say the nastiest, most manipulative people I’ve met have been within the church, and the nicest, most compassionate people I’ve met have been outside the church.  That doesn’t mean I’ve met no-one good in the church, and no-one bad outside the church, but the sum total of good people in each has been heavily on the side of the non-churchgoers.  And I truly believe that much of the reason for that is the fear of churchgoers when I threaten their security, resulting in antagonism and bullying behaviour towards me.

One last point: staying in the system and working for change from within is a viable alternative for some.  I’m certainly not wanting to decry that option – in fact, I am tremendously encouraged by the few clergy I know who are doing just that.  But most of them, if you talk to them for any length of time, will admit that they too have become victims of the viciousness of the system-supporters, so it’s a very stressful option, and certainly one that most clergy abuse victims, with all the church-related pain they carry, can’t undertake.

That’s a pretty broad topic heading, but I want to focus on the manipulation involved in “conversions”.  Let’s look at two scenarios:
1) Newcomers attending church on Sundays, and how the congregation behaves towards them.
2) Individual church members “witnessing” to friends/acquaintances/etc.

Scenario 1
Doubtless most church members, or former church members, will recognise the “we must be more loving [or welcoming] to visitors” angst.  But my question is, what is the purpose behind this?  In Christian doctrine, love is supposedly one of the “fruits of the Spirit”, and therefore something which grows as a result of a relationship with god.  So human efforts to act more lovingly can only – in that understanding – be seen as human attempts to create something artificially that isn’t happening naturally.  Thus the reason for being more loving/welcoming to visitors is not about being more godly, but about appearing to be more godly in order to not push visitors away, and keep them coming along to church.  Why would Christians want this?  Two reasons that I’ve heard being subtly or overtly expressed: a) because we want them to feel like we’re their friends, and b) because we want them to keep hearing “the word of god”.  And it is in the combination of these that lies the manipulation.  The more frequently a person hears a code of belief, the more likely they are to espouse it.  That’s the basic principle behind brainwashing, and it’s not limited to brainwashing practices.  It’s explicit in the Catholic Church’s boast “give me a child till they’re 7, and I’ll give you the man”.  It’s the basis of parental concern over their children being taught at school by a gay teacher.  It’s a clearly understood principle in all forms of teaching.  And when you add to that the development of a social network (in creating friendships, that is), you add pressure.  It becomes a situation (unspoken, usually) of “believe along with us, or we will not be able to maintain as deep or close a friendship with you”.  That’s manipulation through subtle emotional blackmail.

Here’s the test question as to whether a parish’s niceness is manipulation or not:  If someone comes along, and enjoys the parish’s niceness to them, but is quite outspokenly a non-believer and continues to be so, will the parish treat them just as nicely, and just as welcomingly and inclusively, for the rest of their life there?

Scenario 2
Again, church members or former church members will readily recognise the approach along the lines of  “so-and-so is having a tough time right now.  That’s just when they most need god, and so this is a god-sent opportunity to witness to them”.  And yet no-one seems to question whether this is an appropriate time to attempt to convert them.  It’s common knowledge that times of crisis are not when anyone should be making life-changing decisions, yet that’s exactly the time that Christians think most opportune for conversion.  Why?  Because it is!  When someone is vulnerable – through stress, or grief, or trauma of some kind – is exactly when they’re most likely to make a decision without fully grasping the implications.  Salesmen know that, and use it to their advantage.  Christians should not!

Here’s the test question for this scenario: in doing things for the distressed person, is the Christian doing or saying anything that carries the implication of wanting the distressed person to change their beliefs?

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And here’s a thought for two possible overall tests as to whether there’s manipulation going on: 1) is the original thing that attracts someone to whatever-it-is the thing they ultimately have to agree to in order to belong/comply?  and 2) is the initial approach one of offering something (for free, or at a bargain price) followed by having to sign up for something you’ll pay for (in money, time, or other “currency”)?

Manipulation is bad wherever you come across it.  Manipulation by supposedly loving people is worse.  And manipulation that carries a threat of eternal damnation if you don’t comply is just plain evil.

The closure of the Catholic Church’s in-house treatment programme for sexually abusive clergy, Encompass, has brought out some interesting figures. Firstly, Professor Timothy O’Hearn, a former board member, said that a review found that maintaining the programme would cost $750,000 a year, and the cost can’t be justified.

Can someone tell me, then, how the Catholic Church can spend 20 times that on World Youth Day, and not see the equivalent 20 years of treating abusive clergy being worth the money?

Secondly, a Sydney Morning Herald article says this:
“Opened in 1997 by the Australian Catholic Bishops Conference and the Australian Conference of Leaders of Religious Institutes, Encompass treated more than 1100 people, 250 of them in an intensive six-month residential psychosexual program, according to its final newsletter.”

So that’s an average of 100 clergy treated per year for 11 years, of which 23 or so each year were considered serious enough problems to be doing the intensive residential programme. Those weren’t all Catholic, by the way – other denominations referred problem clergy to Encompass too. But given that there are around 12,000 clergy in Australia at any given time, having to treat 1100 of them gives some idea of how big this problem is.

So given a) the scope of the problem clearly set out in their own newsletter, and b) how much the church is prepared to spend on other things, how can they not find justification for maintaining the Encompass programme?

The money’s not really an issue (even if their priorities are).
The number of clergy to treat isn’t an issue (the less to treat, the less it will cost, after all).

About the only answer I can logically conclude is left is that the treatment has been found to be unsuccessful.

If churches really wanted to deal properly with sexual abuse by clergy and church workers, they could issue the following compulsory directives:
1. All complainants must be advised to seek police opinion on whether any part of their abuse constitutes a crime (it is neither appropriate for a church nor within the church’s areas of speciality to be providing an opinion on criminality). If police proceedings are instigated, the perpetrator should be immediately stood down for the duration of the investigation, and the parish notified as to the reason.
2. No perpetrator can be moved to another parish as part of handling the complaint.
3. No church moneys may be used to support perpetrators defending themselves against accusations of sexual abuse.
4. Victims must be offered open-ended therapy by therapists of their choice, paid for by the church until the therapist and victim deem treatment is completed.
5. All credible accusations must be made public and the perpetrators defrocked.
6. All perpetrators convicted of a crime of violence (including sexual abuse) should be immediately defrocked.
7. No perpetrator may be allowed to resign from the church during (or as a way of avoiding) an investigation into an allegation of misconduct. If the perpetrator has already resigned at the time of complaint, the investigation must still proceed, and the findings be notified to the appropriate body under Working With Children legislation.

Obviously, the directives would need to be issued by authoritative bodies, which vary according to denominational structures. In the Catholic Church, for instance, the Pope could do it. In the Anglican Church, each diocesan synod would be the relevant body. In denominations with congregational structures, each congregation would have to do it. But whoever decrees it, and however it is done, such decrees would show that they are really serious about eradicating abuse within their ranks, and providing care and concern for victims.

Any suggestions for additions to the list?

Churches often stand on the principles of “natural justice” when explaining to a clergy abuse victim why their complaint must be handled a certain way. And since victims are often seeking justice, they end up confused about why applying natural justice principles doesn’t seem to achieve justice. A closer look at the Uniting Church’s explanation makes it abundantly clear (the UCA does, at least, explain it in their policy – most other churches don’t!).

According to the UCA policy definitions:
“Natural Justice refers to a specific group of common law principles that are designed to ensure that a person is given a fair hearing before a decision is made that might adversely affect their livelihood or status. In general natural justice refers to two broad principles:
1. An adequate opportunity must be given to a person to present their case to the complaint committee before a decision is reached that might adversely affect them. This includes providing reasonable notice and time to prepare and sufficient information about the matter to be decided to enable the person to prepare their case.
2. The complaint committee must be free from bias or the appearance of bias. This requirement means that a person who has a close personal or family relationship with any of the parties is precluded from being a member of the complaint committee. It also precludes a person who might have a pecuniary interest in the outcome of the decision from being involved in the decision.”

And the clue to why it isn’t justice for victims is in the opening sentence – “principles that are designed to ensure that a person is given a fair hearing before a decision is made that might adversely affect their livelihood or status”. In other words, the principles expressed (adequate opportunity to present their case, and freedom from bias in the complaint committee) apply to the perpetrator, whose livelihood and/or status are under threat, but not to the victim.

So what often happens, and the occurrence of which is actually allowed in the policy, is that perpetrators are given full details about the complaint against them, whereas victims are not given details of the perpetrator’s defence and a chance to rebut lies that might be included. Given that most victims prepare their statement as a personal account, without the aid of a lawyer, whereas perpetrators often seek legal advice to prepare their defence, and victims are not warned of this discrepancy before submitting their complaint, this is not a level playing field. And secondly, although the complaint committee members may not have a close personal or family relationship with the perpetrator, the collegiality within the clergy profession makes it likely that the complaints committee includes people with far greater connection to the perpetrator (and the perpetrator’s position) than to the victim.

For a victim seeking justice, the principles of natural justice end up being either unnatural, or unjust, or both.

So, the Pope’s apologised to Australian victims of clergy sexual abuse. So far, not so good. Because he didn’t tell victims it was going to happen (check out this page of my site for what should be the minimum requirements of such an apology, to see how the Pope fell short), thereby keeping them in quite unnecessary suspense. Secondly, he chose to do it during a mass for clergy! How inappropriate is it to be saying the apology – as part of a prepared speech – to the group of people who contain the perpetrators, rather than the victims?? The victims couldn’t even be there to hear it in person! Thirdly, he seemed to place equal or greater weight on mentioning the shame of (presumably non-perpetrating) clergy and the damage caused to the church’s witness, as to the needs of the victims. And fourthly, he referred specifically to sexual abuse of minors, thereby completely ignoring those many adults also abused by clergy.

So given that this apology falls well short of what he should have said, and where and to whom it should have been said, it will be very interesting to see just how much action happens when the dust from WYD settles. Let’s just revise the checklist the Pope imposed on his clergy for future action:
1) these misdeeds should receive unequivocal condemnation
2) victims should receive compassion and care
3) those responsible must be brought to justice
4) it is an urgent priority to promote a safer and more wholesome environment
5) the Church must work together to combat this evil

Isn’t it interesting that out of 5 action points, three of them (points 1, 3 and 5) are things that the church should be doing already – but obviously isn’t, or the Pope wouldn’t need to exhort them?

But I still think the most inappropriate part was to do it at a mass for clergy, thereby not only effectively offering the apology to the perpetrator group, but specifically excluding the victims who should have been able to be there to hear it.

Cardinal Pell is, as we all know, all over the pages of the press again – this time for a “badly worded” letter (his words) that just happens to have come across as denial of an abuse victim’s allegations and the ongoing problem with the priest in question. You can read about it in more detail here and here and here. Quite apart from the questionable plausibility of his claim that though church lawyers had the tape evidence of the incident being non-consensual from 2005 they didn’t happen to mention it to him, to have dismissed the claim a) on the grounds of consensuality, and b) on the offender’s word, is both stupid and immoral. By 2002, when Anthony Jones brought his complaint to the church for the second time, church authorities had absolutely no excuse for accepting an alleged offender’s word unquestioningly. (And it must have been unquestioning, because it was directly opposed to the church’s own internal investigator’s assessment.) Moreover, it would appear that to Pell consensual homosexual sex between priest and parishioner is ok – which flies in the face of 1) his own conservative anti-gay stance, 2) the clearly understood power imbalance between clergy and parishioners, and 3) the priest being supposed to be celibate.

(Aside: How come politicians who support homosexuality and/or abortion bills get threatened by Pell with denial of communion, but a gay priest doesn’t?)

But what we must not forget is that this wriggling out of negative publicity on abuse issues is not the first time Pell has had to do so. It’s only a few years since he flatly denied that the church ever imposed gag orders (confidentiality agreements) on victims settling abuse claims – a denial he also had to make excuses for when the Daily Telegraph printed a double-page spread showing photos of the very gag orders Pell denied existed. His excuses then had a similar ring: the lawyers didn’t tell me, I really meant well, look at all I’ve done for abuse victims.

I know of at least one other instance, in 1994, when Pell’s assistant wrote to a victim denying prior knowledge or earlier correspondence with a victim of a De La Salle brother, but the then-head of the De La Salle order said that Pell had previously contacted him after receiving the complaint.

And further back still, when Gerald Ridsdale was at the height of his abusive career (for details, see his entry in my perpetrator list), Pell declared he knew nothing of Ridsdale’s activities, despite the abuse being common knowledge, and Pell sharing the presbytery – where many of the abuses happened – with Ridsdale for a year. Ridsdale has been convicted of multiple counts against 47 boy victims. Presumably Pell was either blind or stupid, or he turned a blind eye.

(Note: A fuller treatment of the Pell/Ridsdale links can be found here.)

How many times can one man be proven to have lied when he said “I didn’t know” and “I meant well” before Rome decides he’s a liability?

I invite anyone who has clear evidence of Pell’s duplicity to post it here as a comment.