The Death of Hope

In Britain at least, the news stories have been made even darker by the unfolding story of the death of little Daniel Pelka, a boy of a mere four years who was tortured and murdered by his mother and her partner. Like all of these sorts of stories, this one finds its way under the toughest of skin as we try hard not to imagine how a little boy felt as he subjected to terminal harm at the hands of the people who should have protected him. They starved him, imprisoned him and brought such harm to him that all he knew was suffering and eventually death - the only freedom left for him.

As a father to young daughters, it is in imagining Daniel's pain that I find myself on the edge of tears, left wondering how such a catalogue of tragedies might unfold for one so vulnerable and small. It is a pain that many now feel as a nation grieves for a little boy whom it never know except my virtue of the nature of his death.

What is also noticeable is the near-inevitable unfolding of the blame game. How did this agency miss it, or that? How did the injuries go un-noticed or the behaviour that might have betrayed an abused child? Whose fault was it? The teachers? The police? Social Services? The local authorities? Each blames the other and each dances away from blame, and all fingers are pointing. Despite their life sentence, it seems to remain unspoken that the blame for the death of little lad lays in the hands of his mother and her choice of partner. It was her fault. 

This is where a new problem arises. It is now precipitating calls for an assumed state of suspicion - that all authorities should start to assume the worst instead of the best in the cases of children. At the face it, it seems fair enough, too. Yes, it grievous when children die in their own homes, and more so by the hand of a parent (and, I venture to say, when that parent is a mother for whom I would have imagined such a crime to be even less likely). What this revised state of perspective does is accepts that harm comes to children and effectively turns parents into latent suspects. If my daughter falls awkwardly on the trampoline whilst playing with her sister and sustains a bruise, should I expect social services at my door? And what if I can't prove that I didn't batter my baby? Am I, by default, a child abuser? 

The statutory authorities were guilty of something else entirely. They were guilty of not believing that a mother could kill her own child. Yes, cases exist and children have been killed by parents, even mothers. However, it is also the case that more children by a long way have been killed by cars on roads or even by bugs in hospitals. On the whole, in the main, in the great majority of cases, children are safe with their parents. I worry that in seeking to protect children, the authorities might start to undermine the very protective agency that most children depend upon for safety, their family. Families may well cease to be perceived as havens of hope and safety, becoming the new arena for harm and death. Are we throwing out the baby with the bath water here? 

I sense, and I fear, that in the wake of the human tragedy that is personified in the little blond Daniel Pelka, we will start to see draconian over-reactions emerge because people who work to protect children will see ghosts behind every door, and with a healthy sense of self-preservation, may well kill hope. 

For now, I pray for the little life so cruelly extinguished by people who I cannot claim to understand. He was their precious gift and they squandered him like a disposable pleasure. I am glad that he is free of the terror found at home, and I glad that he is in a place of such beauty and peace where his value is recognised. 

As a Child of Chichester

From my safe haven beneath the flight-paths leading to and from Heathrow airport, I have been watching with interest (if that is the right word) the developments in the Diocese of Chichester. The reason for my interest: I grew up in Eastbourne and half of my primary school mates went to Bishop Bell School (you know, the school with the maths teacher who offers one-on-one French Exchange trips for Year 10 students). Added to this, my nieces and nephews still attend that school and my own Much Revered Muvva is on its Board of Governors. (I didn't go there because in 1983 the place was perceived by many parents at the time as a dump and French Exchanges involved linguistic work)

You have Bishop Bell School, then you have the wider issues surrounding conduct towards children by priests who lived in or around Eastbourne while I was there and a Diocese now under the scrutiny of an Archepiscopal Visitation (a bit like being on Report at school, only with mitres and police involvement and fair bit worse for all concerned). They are, in greater part, prodding around in the undergrowth of the Sussexes in the wake of Frs Ridout and Coles, both of whom I knew (and neither of whom came within a mile of me, for the record). There are also ongoing investigations into the alleged behaviour of the former Bishop of Lewes, Peter Ball. I have known Peter Ball since I have was a child and am in no way a victim to what he is accused of - and indeed, he is why I am here as priest. I can, of course, speak only for myself and of my own experiences.

Yes, there is some nasty stuff happening out there and that has happened for years, and it seems in all walks of life. One only need reflect on the developing saga of Jim'll Fix It and one Sir Savile  It is now a daily occurrence that dozens of people are adding their testimonies to the panoply that have already surfaced, begging the question 'why only now'? The evidence and volume of witnesses paints the account in a way that would be hard to deny its truth, but why did so many people remain silent for so long in the wake of manifestly illegal and inappropriate treatment? The same can be said of those who were allegedly abused by priests. Fr Ridout is facing down allegations and charges that at their most recent are forty years old. 

Of course, it is quite wrong to blame victims for bottling it all up and we cannot level accusation at them for not coming forward sooner. The situations in Chichester and indeed within the BBC highlight something altogether more worrying (if anything can be more worrying than predatory sexual abusers in positions of trust) - that in our civilised society, connected by every means of communication possible, in an apparently enlightened age, why it is that so many genuine victims feel that they cannot speak of the attacks upon them. There is more of a lesson in this for the Church than simply how it is we can protect the vulnerable from the predator - but more in how can we enable victims to speak out and seek help, in a way that bypasses the invented and pernicious and protects those in harms way. It is no longer sufficient to say "why didn't you tell us sooner"?

For absolute clarity, my decades in the diocese of Chichester, and specifically in Eastbourne, were happy and affirming. I grew up among some wonderful priests and people and was the beneficiary of some experiences that informed nurtured and confirmed by sense of calling to the priesthood. I have never been a victim to any sort of behaviour mentioned in the press while I acknowledge others very possibly were. I have much to be grateful to Chichester for and I pray earnestly that all those who have been damaged by those in positions of trust will find their peace and healing in God.