Clare’s blog, aka rantspace

Fairy tales are recognised by sociologists and psychologists as a vital part of children’s growth and development, particularly in the context of their understanding of the adult world. And those of us who remember the pre-Disney, unsanitised versions of old fairy tales (the wolf eats Little Red Riding Hood and her grandmother and the woodcutter slits him open to get them out; Cinderella’s stepsisters cut off portions of their feet to fit into the glass slipper; and Hansl and Gretel push the witch into the fire rather than just running away) know that the sanitisation is a reflection of our increasingly sanitised life. Gone are the days when children had to understand that life was fraught with danger and death. Danger is greatly reduced by our urban and heavily circumscribed lives, and death is pushed into nursing homes and hospitals, where children rarely see it.

But the still-present danger of fairy tales (and other similarly simplistic stories), in my opinion, is the portrayal of the good guys as always the good guys, and the bad guys as always the bad guys. And the more sanitised the stories are, the easier it is to recognise which is which. The bad guys are instantly dislikeable (think fairytale stepmothers). Or they’re ugly (bad witches always have hooked chins and warts on their noses, right? And good ones are beautiful, naturally).

The danger of all this lies in the subtle teaching to children that they’ll always be able to tell a bad guy when they see one. That, of course, puts them at risk because they can fail to exercise prudent caution about someone they decide is a good guy. And it seems that adults suffer from the same misapprehension. How often is a clergy abuse (or incest, or child pornography) disclosure about a “respectable” person greeted with the response “but I know him and he’s not like that”. Or “he’s such a nice guy, it couldn’t possibly be true”. These adults don’t seem to realise that they are still bound by the simplistic format of fairy tales, where the good guys and the bad guys are both easy to pick, and uncompromisingly good (or bad) all through.

And while this reaction has also been touched on in my blog entry on compartmentalism (3rd May), I think it’s important to see how little it’s recognised for what it is – a reliance on one’s own personal assessment of a person based on the image they present, which may be vastly different to what they’re like underneath.

So how do you tell a good guy from a bad guy? The simple answer is, of course, that you can’t. The essence of humanity is that we’re not good all through, or bad all through. And our surface image is governed, to a good extent, by what’s acceptable in society. So the more bad we are, the more the surface image can be discrepant from our actions, and it behoves us all to recognise that. So next time you’re reading a fairy tale (aka fiction story), take a moment to check your own reactions – do you know who the bad guy is from the start? If you do, welcome to the UNreal world!

It has been posited that, given the existence of god is unprovable, religious belief is caused by our own internal needs – suggestions often made are a fear of death, or an inchoate longing for something outside/beyond ourselves and our known world. But I’d like to run with a proposition made in a recent Mensa magazine (if only I could find the damn thing I could tell you by whom, and in which issue!). And that is, that belief in god is driven by a need for control. Control of ourselves (doctrine of heaven and hell gives motivation, and defined moral code gives method), but also control of events around us (propitiate things/people more powerful than us, and they hopefully won’t do bad stuff to us) and people (an established hierarchy allows control of lower ranking people by higher ranking people).

And this argument makes quite a lot of sense to me, particularly given the illogicality of some christian doctrines. Take, for instance, the idea of justifying why bad things happen to christians. If the world is purely random, there’s no dilemma, of course. But if there’s a loving all-powerful god in control, then there IS a dilemma. A god who requires that we do good automatically implies that those who do good are looked on more favourably – otherwise why bother? But a god who then allows those who do good to suffer, and has the power to intervene but chooses not to, is fundamentally inconsistent. A common explanation for that inconsistency is that we don’t understand all god’s purposes, and if we did, we’d understand why the bad thing (anything you nominate) happened. But that argument presupposes that we don’t really understand what defines love. That if only we saw the reason for something, it would make us say “oh, ok – I thought that was a non-loving action; now I see it’s actually loving”. Yet being able to recognise loving actions from non-loving is at the heart of christianity. We cannot be expected to act in a loving way (as is required by christianity) without understanding what “a loving way” is. And it doesn’t make sense to suspend that understanding when analysing our concept of god.

Take an example suggested by my uncle in a recent conversation. Remember Sophie Delezio – the little girl severely burned by a car crashing into her preschool, and later knocked flying on a pedestrian crossing? If Superman had been flying overhead when she was about to cross that road (the second incident), it seems highly likely that he would have swooped down and caught her up out of the way, thereby preventing a further round of suffering and operations for her. (We’re assuming, here, that Superman has the power to see all that would come out of either his action or non-action.) Our instinctive grasp of what would be a loving action is a protective action. Christians would probably say “ah yes, but god knows everything; he may have seen that it would be good for her to suffer”. Come again?? I thought god didn’t want us to suffer? Oh, that’s right – I forgot! Some good may come out of our suffering, such as helping others. Which is, of course, assuming that god is incapable of bring about good without making us suffer. A strange limitation for a supposedly limitless god!

Or another example – a friend of my uncle (the same one as previously mentioned) who was in a car accident, who now thanks god for [His]* protection of her, because her spinning car had a lucky escape from hitting a pole that probably would have killed her. But my reaction is – what sort of half-assed protection is that anyway? If god was out to protect her, why not prevent the accident entirely?

It seems to me that the only justification for believing in a god who can totally protect us but doesn’t, is in order to feel some measure of control over events – either directly or vicariously. And if someone wants to believe that, then they’ll find every possible logical or illogical argument to back it up when it’s called into question.

But getting back to the idea that christianity is intrinsically about control… Establishing moral codes is about control of society. Prayer is about control of events. Obedience to god is about control (through minimisation) of bad stuff happening. Conversion is about control of what our life after death will be. And church hierarchy is about control of those within the system.

And if this is so, then what alarms me is that it may be – by definition – impossible to eradicate exertion of control in church systems. And if you can’t eradicate control, you can’t eradicate abuse.

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*Footnote: I don’t believe in a male god, nor do I ascribe a capital letter to god’s pronoun; however, I do use such a term in the context of referring to the conservative christian construct of god.

Further note: The friend of my uncle, mentioned in the fourth last paragraph as being thankful for god’s protection in a car accident, is now – about 2 years later – suffering from a fatal brain tumour.  Personally, I would rather have gone quickly in the car accident!  And her church is praying for their own sinfulness because “the devil is attacking them”.  In other words, in order to justify a doctrine of a protective god, bad happenings have to be ascribed to either our own badness or some evil external agency.  See how a doctrine of an all-powerful, all-loving god leads to a) the necessity of a devil, and b) self-criticism?

One of Victoria’s worst paedophiles has been released from prison, housed in an apartment block, given a new name, and given anti-androgen hormones which, while hopefully reducing his likelihood of re-offending, may also change his appearance somewhat. He is subject to an extended supervision order for a maximum of 15 years. An application by the Herald Sun last October to remove the suppression on publication of his (new) name has been refused, on the grounds that he might be subject to vigilante attacks (see article).

And therein lies the inherent problem of vigilantism. Vigilantes may think that their actions protect the community, but in reality, they actually decrease the amount of protection, by forcing such decisions as this one. The community would be far better protected if they simply knew where the man is, what name he’s living under, and could ensure that he doesn’t have unsupervised access to their children. Since his first known offence was at 17yo, and he has repeatedly re-offended after being released from previous prison terms, there is no reason to suppose that allowing him to blend into the community will enable his rehabilitation. His prior modus operandi was to befriend parents in order to obtain access to their children, who then became victims of his paedophile ring. So protecting his identity will make it easier for him to do the same thing again, and harder for parents to protect their children from him.

The likelihood of vigilante action ensures that he is given more protection than any future victims, and there’s no way that’s a positive outcome.

To vigilantes, knowledge is power. To vigilants, knowledge is safety.

A: To shoring up the shortfall in government dollars created by giving churches such incredible tax exemptions.

What sort of $$ are we talking about? Take a look at this comment in Crikey for some actual figures. The Catholic church, despite being a business (with charity sidelines), gets tax exemptions amounting to millions of dollars per year. The Anglican Church likewise, though no figures are given. But just stop to think about how many churches there are, and realise that each one is exempt from land tax, council rates and capital gains tax (to name just a few of the taxes from which they are exempt), and you begin to get the idea.  Think of the size of St Andrew’s Square, in the Sydney CBD, and wonder for a moment what the council rates on that would be! The totals across all denominations are in the billions. One wonders, if the churches were forced to separate charity from business operations and only claim tax exemptions for the charitable operations, just how much of those billions would remain tax exempt. The government would certainly suddenly find itself a lot richer!

Kevin Rudd has back-pedalled on his calls for federal agencies to investigate the Brethrens (see story). Now this may be merely a tactical move, allowing him to gather forces to promote such an enquiry at a better time. But it may equally be that Rudd has discovered that Brethren influence is strong enough to stop him proceeding. And such behind-the-scenes, clout-wielding political manoeuvres are not unusual. Catholics and Anglicans both do it too (how else do you think an archbishop got to be GG??). But people don’t raise an eyebrow at that, because they’ve been around a long time and their beliefs are well-known. In other words, they’re “safe”.

People get scared about the thought of weirdos wielding power, and with good reason. But just because a religion (or a denomination) has been around a long time doesn’t make their high priests any less prone to misuse of power. Or, indeed, any less weird!

And it’s no good sitting back and thinking the government will come to our rescue, because they’re often subject to the power themselves. It takes ordinary people – mostly outside the church – to see, and keep calling attention to, the failings of churches.

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<sigh> I said this much better at my first attempt, but that version disappeared into the ether. Don’t you hate that?

I seem to have had a lot to say about Catholics lately, in spite of my keenness to ensure that people don’t see clergy sexual abuse as a primarily Catholic problem. I guess they’re in the news a lot because of WYD, which is giving me fodder for ranting.

However, it’s also important to note that the reason it’s not just a Catholic problem is the main reason why I blog about any denomination, and not just the one in which I was abused (Anglican). Clergy abuse stems from a hierarchical power structure, which leads the dominant class/es to misuse and abuse the subordinate groups. That’s why almost no clergy sexual abuse is of adult males. Females, yes, because they’re subordinate in the church power structure. Children (both male and female), for the same reason. The few instances of adult males being abused – young priests by clergy superiors, usually – show clear indications of the power issues, involving other dynamics such as associated emotional blackmail (see here for example).

So this rant is really about power, and yet another instance of the patent reinforcing of church power.

Those who follow these matters will be aware of (Catholic) Bishop Geoffrey Robinson’s book, published last year, “Confronting Power and Sex in the Catholic Church: Reclaiming the Spirit of Jesus”. In it, he not only disclosed his own (non-clergy) sexual abuse as a child, but also detailed his motivations for working within the church for recognition and redress for clergy abuse victims. And in doing so, he reiterated the doctrine of the primacy of conscience (from the Commentary on the Code of Canon Law). Now this is a major problem for Cardinal Pell, who denies such a doctrine and has said that if it exists it ought to be discarded.

Clearly, a doctrine of individual conscience presents danger for those who would like to see the church’s authority as absolute. And Robinson, by publishing his views in a book, has thrown the Australian Conference of Catholic Bishops into an apparent ferment. Read their response in their official statement here. Distilled of its polite praise of Robinson’s work for victims, the essential thrust is “don’t anyone dare believe that you should do anything other than what the Church tells you, because the Church is the ultimate authority, and is always right”.

And I don’t see how any organisation, while maintaining such an overbearing power structure, can ever rid itself of abuse within its ranks. Nor, incidentally, is it likely to respond well to victims who, by virtue of their history as well as their low status as lay people, are nonentities challenging the authority structure.

Okay, so it’s not possible to limit the number of the Church’s most heinous sins to seven! Though I guess this one actually comes under the wider heading of no. 3 (see blog entry 30/4/08), it’s almost bad enough to give it an “8th sin” listing on its own – re-employing an abusive priest. Now in this instance (see The West Australian, p.3, 5/5/08 and Townsville Bulletin here) the abuse was confirmed “on the balance of probability” by an internal church investigation, the victim was offered compensation, and the priest had long since resigned from the priesthood, since when he has been working as a uni professor (not an unusual career move for an ex-priest). Criminal charges failed to proceed due to the age of the complaint.

But now the church employs him as director of their welfare agency, with duties including counselling child abuse victims, in Townsville – far removed from Perth, where the abuse happened and the victim lives. And the Archbishop of Perth says he can’t do a thing about it; it’s the Townsville archbishop’s decision. Well, sure – it is. But a) doesn’t Queensland have Child Protection laws, and b) how does anyone hold the Townsville archbishop to account for his choice?

And therein lies the fundamental problem of dealing with the church – they are widespread enough to make it very difficult to find out if an abusive priest has simply been moved somewhere “out of sight, out of mind” of the victim, and they are very nearly completely non-accountable. When even other archbishops can say “I can’t do anything about it” (whether true or not), what hope does a victim have?

Oh, and perhaps it’s just coincidence that the guy’s brother-in-law is WA’s Attorney-General…

This morning I woke from a nightmare about an argument with people from St David’s (the church where I was abused) about why I don’t go to church. And as I lay in bed with my nerves and pulse rate gradually steadying, I mused on what upset my equilibrium enough to cause the dream. It was this: yesterday, I had two encounters with conservative theology. Yes – that’s all it took to give me a nightmare. Therein lies the sting of PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder). People say “just get over it” without any idea of the longterm effects. Here am I – 25 years past the abuse itself, 10+ years since I began to realise its impact, including 5+ years of therapy. And it still causes me nightmares – in this case just from two simple encounters, neither of which were very important in themselves.

Encounter no.1: My daughter (17yo) announced that she was going to bible study to learn a bit more about what they keep referring to at youth group meetings. Now, I have to tell you that my daughter (in her own words a few years ago) “doesn’t do religion”. And I think that learning about a book that a) is a great piece of literature, and b) is constantly referred to in our culture (though not so constantly as it used to be), is a good thing. But the church through which she’s doing this is a Baptist one, and I know their theology is generally conservative. So alarm bells rang, because I know how insider conservatives would see her action. It would be “This is great! A non-Christian, who’s been coming to youth group for ages for the fun, is now starting to be led deeper into the joys of our faith in Jesus, and coming to bible study. The Lord is really calling her.” And they would step up their efforts to save her from hell, both through prayer and subtle pressure. And because I know just how hard it is to recover from years in conservatism, I was alarmed.

Encounter no.2: A Salt Shakers newsletter comment on the recent Anti-Discrimination Tribunal decision re homosexual foster carers was forwarded to an email list I belong to. Salt Shakers claims to be “an independent, trans-denominational ministry…dedicated to helping Christians understand the times (1 Chronicles 12: 32) and equipping them to be SALT and LIGHT in the community (Matthew 5: 13-16) by upholding Biblical values and by being more aware of the ethical issues affecting today’s society.” (www.saltshakers.org.au) Even that much would tell most churchgoers that this organisation has conservative beliefs. The fact that they began of Baptist origins is no surprise, therefore. (This isn’t meant to be an anti-Baptist rant – it just so happens that both incidents have Baptist connections.) The full decision of the ADT is available here but may be summarised as – Wesley Dalmar, an agency of the Uniting Church (UCA), refused an application from a gay couple to be foster carers. The couple alleged discrimination on the grounds of homosexuality, and the ADT upheld their claim – partly on the basis that, since the UCA has internal dissension on the issue of homosexuality, it can’t be construed as doctrine, and therefore isn’t covered by church exemption from the Anti-Discrimination Act.

This is part of Salt Shakers’ comment on the matter:
“This appalling decision, made by the NSW Tribunal, is itself blatantly discriminatory. It is saying that the long held religious beliefs and traditions are less important than the lifestyle choices of two men!… It also discriminates against the best interests of children. In many ways this decision is the Christian churches [sic] own fault because it has moved away from Biblical truth. This decision shows just how far this nation has moved towards calling evil good and good evil.
Initial analysis shows that:

And what worries me about this – and conservative believers in general – is the emphasis on sameness. “Everyone must believe the same thing, otherwise we’re in danger.” “If you don’t believe what we do, then you’re wrong/unsaved/going to hell.” “The Bible says…”, with no allowance for differing interpretations of what the bible means. Such emphasis on sameness, and pressure to conform, is the opposite of freedom and the antithesis of the joyous individuality that a religion ought to promote.

And getting back to my nightmare and the PTSD it springs from – it’s very hard to say how much of the PTSD comes from the abuse, and how much comes from the traumatic treatment by church members at a time when I was seeking to break free from the domination of conservative theology. But one thing I do know – that recovering from that kind of spiritual domination is extraordinarily difficult, and frighteningly long in process. Which is why I argue that such views, in their attempts to become mainstream through influence in politics, are far more dangerous than many non-believers would credit. Because religion mixed with a dose of fanatacism ultimately leads to war.

Many times in the past (and particularly in the Catholic Church because of celibacy and the consequently greater social isolation), churches have defended the abusive actions of their priests on the basis that the priests were socially immature and didn’t understand that what they did was wrong. In my own case, the Anglican Diocese of Sydney argued in court that when the offending minister went through college (1959-61), there was no training on this issue. Yet at the same time, the Catholic Church argues that it’s the result of sexual immorality in wider society. So tell me: are they subject to society’s influences and practices, or so unaware that they don’t even grasp when society thinks something is abhorrent? It can’t be both! And is training in theological college necessary to teach intending priests that child sex offences are wrong? Most people know it without that! Would you want a guy as your priest if he’d had to be taught that as an adult because he didn’t already know it? And doesn’t the fact that offenders conceal their actions indicate an awareness of wrongdoing?

No, I’m sorry – the “we didn’t know any better” excuse just doesn’t hold water…and especially not in an organisation that claims the moral high ground.

When a person (and especially a priest) is charged with child sex offences, which most people find abhorrent, you often hear said “but he’s such a nice guy; it can’t possibly be true.” And leaving aside the theory that the reason he’s such a nice guy is because it enables him to prey on children unsuspected, this raises something I think needs to be better understood. Compartmentalism is the psycho-jargon term for not letting your left hand know what your right hand is doing. Or, to put it another way, being one kind of person in one part of your life, and a different kind of person in another part of your life, and keeping them so separate in your own psyche that the contradiction between the two is never admitted or faced. And sexual abusers are particularly practised at this, apparently – witness the fact that many convicted abusers have campaigned against pornography or other so-called moral evils, and that the second most common factor among abusers is conservative religious belief (Sexual Abuse in Christian Homes and Churches, Carolyn Holderread Heggen).

And without an understanding of compartmentalism, people will, of course, figure that “a nice guy like that” could never do such abhorrent things. If, however, you understand that someone you experience as a nice guy may not be a nice guy at all in another aspect of his life, then the contradiction becomes less incredible. Sure, it’s still hard to fathom, because most of us don’t exercise that large a degree of compartmentalism. But it’s crucial that society as a whole begins to understand that someone who seems nice on the surface may not be nice all through – may, in fact, be a very sick person whose survival mechanism lies in concealing the extent of his sickness.

Perhaps the most extreme case, currently in the news, is the “Austrian cellar monster” (see here and related links). Despite his almost unbelievable crimes, neighbours found Fritzl polite and quiet, and generally likeable. As one neighbour said, “I’m good friends with Mrs Fritzl. Both she and her husband are lovely people … they are well dressed, polite and very nice.” Yet, from DNA tests, direct evidence, and Fritzl’s own confession, there is no doubt that the man who seemed so nice on the surface was, in reality, a horrific abuser underneath.

That’s compartmentalism to the nth degree!

There’s one further point to make about the Austrian story: Fritzl had a conviction for rape 41 years ago, and another for attempted rape the same year. (Other later charges of arson and insurance fraud were dropped.) Yet, because the crimes were so long ago, when he applied to adopt his children/grandchildren less than 20 years ago, his record appeared clean. The point being that when a person is accused of sexual abuse, we can’t sit back complacently and say “this guy’s never been in trouble before; it can’t be true”. Far more likely, if the diclosure dates back decades, is that he has abused many victims, and the one who comes forward is simply the first one who has dared to do so.