tag:theconversation.com,2011:/au/topics/church-abuse-3803/articlesChurch abuse – The Conversation2023-05-26T15:51:14Ztag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1975692023-05-26T15:51:14Z2023-05-26T15:51:14Z‘They just ignored my tears, they ignored my unhappiness’: former Irish nuns reveal accounts of brainwashing and abuse<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/526543/original/file-20230516-19-id4fal.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=160%2C179%2C1957%2C1358&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
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<p>Any thoughts of escaping to a more natural life was regarded as being sinful. The idea of being unfaithful to your vocation was a step on the way to hell. It would be a mortal sin.</p>
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<p>These are the words of Mary, my mother. She was just 15 when she entered a convent in Ireland in 1950 and 34 by the time she finally managed to leave. She had been expressing doubts to her superiors since her early twenties but years of “brainwashing” and the very real fear of her and her family facing eternal damnation made breaking her vows seem impossible. </p>
<p>Speaking to my mother, as well as to five other nuns and former nuns for my PhD <a href="http://www.techne.ac.uk/for-students/techne-students/techne-students/techne-students-2020-21/karen-hanrahan">research</a>, gave me a glimpse into a way of life which no longer exists. Their often heartbreaking narratives paint a picture of a repressive and damaging regime which emphasised self-sacrifice and unquestioning obedience and where suffering and “breaking the spirit” supposedly brought you closer to heaven. </p>
<p>For many who left the convent, the years of “grooming”, “mind control” and “infantilisation” made adjusting to secular life a significant challenge – mentally, socially, emotionally and financially. Few were supported in this transition. </p>
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<p><strong><em>This article is part of Conversation Insights</em></strong>
<br><em>The Insights team generates <a href="https://theconversation.com/uk/topics/insights-series-71218">long-form journalism</a> derived from interdisciplinary research. The team is working with academics from different backgrounds who have been engaged in projects aimed at tackling societal and scientific challenges.</em></p>
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<p>The image of the “evil nun” has become almost a caricature in recent years, particularly in Ireland, where the fallout from <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2009/may/20/irish-catholic-church-child-abuse">decades of abuse scandals</a> has left a deep scar, radically changing perceptions of the Catholic church. These women’s stories offer an insider’s perspective of life within the convent walls and hopefully provide a more nuanced view of just what it was like to wear the habit and then, eventually, to cast it aside.</p>
<p>The women I spoke to were just children when they entered the convent, with hopes of making a better life for themselves but without any real understanding of what lay in store. Instead, they were manipulated and brainwashed. One woman was sexually abused by an older priest at the age of 15, while another had a mental breakdown and went on hunger strike in a cry for help which was ignored.</p>
<h2>The winds of change</h2>
<p>No study currently exists which specifically explores the testimonies of former “women religious” (both <a href="https://www.simplycatholic.com/nun-vs-sister/">nuns and sisters</a>) in Ireland, particularly those who entered religious life before the <a href="https://www.vaticannews.va/en/vatican-city/news/2022-10/vatican-ii-council-60th-anniversary-video-history-background.html">Second Vatican Council</a> (1962-1965). </p>
<p>Instigated by <a href="https://www.vatican.va/news_services/liturgy/saints/ns_lit_doc_20000903_john-xxiii_en.html">Pope John XXIII</a> and with an emphasis on <em>aggiornamento</em> (updating or modernisation), the Second Vatican Council was characterised by a spirit of renewal and self-reflection. The winds of change blowing from Rome ushered in a raft of <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/andrewbrown/2012/oct/11/second-vatical-council-50-years-catholicism">seismic transformations</a> throughout the Catholic church. For example, following Vatican II, mass was no longer given in Latin but in the vernacular, and the position of the altar was turned around so that priests didn’t have their backs to “the people of God” as they delivered Mass. </p>
<p>Following Vatican II, nuns gradually enjoyed more autonomy. For example, they could take more personal responsibility in decision making, they were allowed to cultivate friendships within and beyond the convent, and they could learn to drive (something that they had previously been unable to do).</p>
<p>Before Vatican II convent hierarchies were much more rigid. An individual nun had to surrender her will to her superior and was no longer in control of her destiny. A number of the women in my study (who, apart from my mother, I will not be identifying or using real names for) said that their lives and duties could vary significantly depending on whoever held that office. An unquestioning acceptance was expected and the emphasis was on self-sacrifice, renunciation of the self and conforming to life in community. </p>
<h2>My mother and the end of an era</h2>
<p>The six women I’m working with entered a religious congregation in Ireland in the 1950s, when they were between 13 and 16. They grew up in different convents and worked as sisters and teachers in various schools in Ireland, England and East Asia. Four spent between 15 and 27 years in religious life before leaving and two remained. They are all now in their eighties.</p>
<p>I felt very strongly that their stories needed to be captured before they were lost because, within the patriarchal Catholic church, an <a href="https://www.routledge.com/Education-Identity-and-Women-Religious-1800-1950-Convents-classrooms/Raftery-Smyth/p/book/9780815358534">“archaeology of exclusion”</a> has rendered nuns almost invisible in the historical record. </p>
<p>The voices of <em>former</em> nuns are afforded even less space. Religious women formed the <a href="http://repository.tavistockandportman.ac.uk/652/1/Camillus_Metcalfe_Final_version_of_PhD_thesis_2011.pdf">largest and most powerful group of professional women</a> in Ireland for much of the 20th century. And yet congregations of teaching sisters in Ireland have been <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/03323315.2022.2074074">in decline since the late 1960s</a>.</p>
<p>My investigation into these hidden lives began with my mother. Now well into her eighties, she still has a recurrent nightmare of not being able to escape the convent:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I’ve had for years the dream, the nightmare, of travelling through high grass with a bicycle. I’m in the wrong place - should be out on the road … Or I’m climbing over a wall, trying to get down and finding it difficult. Certainly, it was years of this thing in your head all the time, you know, you shouldn’t be here but I’m here. What can I do? You were told there was a light shining down on top of you from heaven and you were picked, you were chosen. Really, a stupid kind of way of describing a vocation.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>I cannot remember when I first learned that my mother was a nun for almost two decades. My relationship to this aspect of her life story has evolved considerably. As a child, I think I adopted a position of <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1177/0038038511406585">active not knowing</a>, feeling that my mother’s status as a former nun was somehow shameful and made us different in small town Catholic Ireland where I grew up. A “spoilt nun” or a “spoilt priest” was the description for those who left their vocation (often described as the “call” to religious life). There was a stigma attached to such transgressions. Some of the women in my study kept this part of their past secret to all but close family. One woman avoided telling her children about her former identity until they were adults.</p>
<p>As a teenager, I remember feeling a burning sense of injustice on my mother’s behalf and was horrified at the idea of her confinement. She had consistently expressed doubts about her vocation, believing herself to be unsuited to life as a sister. How could her superiors turn a blind eye to her repeated requests to leave? At 15, the age my mother entered the convent, I prized my growing independence and found the idea of complete submission and erasure of self incomprehensible. </p>
<p>As I grew older, I moved on to a deeper understanding of her former identity but still felt protective of her and was resistant to talking about it, in case she became an object of curiosity. </p>
<p>But when it comes to families, all our stories get tangled up. My mother’s story is a part of my story. My own daughter is now 15, and it brings home to me the vulnerability of “being groomed”, as one of the women describes her experience of entering the convent.</p>
<h2>Entering the convent</h2>
<p>While it is undoubtedly the case that some young women believed that they had a vocation and were answering “the call” from God, becoming a nun afforded opportunities for women in Ireland at a time when they were not visible in public life. The surge in vocations in Ireland continued until 1967 and can be attributed to a desire for education, professional opportunities, economic stability or a life of adventure as a missionary. Having a nun or priest in the family boosted a family’s social capital. Religious life conferred a privileged identity within a powerful, transnational institution.</p>
<p>The attraction to religious life could also be interpreted as a sign of women actively seeking an alternative to marriage and motherhood rather than a reaction to a <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/09612020500529598">lack of eligible bachelors</a>. In the case of the women in my study, given that they were children when they entered (between 13 and 16) it is safe to assume they were not left “on the shelf”.</p>
<p>Canvassing by religious orders was common at that time as “getting vocations” was key to an institute’s growth and success. The Catholic church was akin to an empire, a transnational institution whose reach and governance extended far beyond national borders. Nuns representing various Irish and international orders visited schools and sometimes local farms with large families as part of their recruitment drive, often showing alluring films of life on the missions.</p>
<p>In the Ireland of the 1950s (and indeed until the demise of the Catholic church in the 1990s), priests and nuns enjoyed positions of power and privilege in Irish society and adopting a deferential, unquestioning acceptance of religion was expected. Ireland was, therefore, an important recruitment channel for young postulants (the title given at the first stage of entry into a congregation).</p>
<p>My mother remembers the nuns’ visit to her secondary school. She was 14 and beginning to think about where she might go as emigration was inevitable for so many people in rural Ireland at that time. She recalls being impressed by this nun who came from Italy, thinking that perhaps she had links with the pope.</p>
<p>My mother said: “She told us romantic stories about going to the missions, Africa in particular. I distinctly remember her showing us a photograph of a lovely nun dressed in white in a boat going down some river in Africa and having children with her and she was in charge of things. So immediately I thought, ‘Well that’s where I’m going then because I have to go somewhere and that sounds wonderful’.”</p>
<p>My aunt also joined, at 13. My mother remembers that my aunt’s legs did not reach the floor when she sat on her chair because she was so very young. While my mother was seduced by visions of a luminous missionary and informed by the wider economic context of needing to “go somewhere”, there were other, more personal, reasons for joining too. </p>
<p>One woman I spoke to, who I am calling Louise, spent 16 years as a nun before leaving at the age of 32. For her, joining was about family dynamics and a difficult relationship with her mother. She said:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Really I want to be sincere about this, when I decided to enter … it wasn’t that I wanted to be a nun as such or that I wanted to look after the poor or that I wanted to go to the missions. It really was to prove to my mum particularly that I was a good person. I remember thinking, if I do this they will know I am good. That was very important to me at the time.</p>
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<p>Christina, who spent 27 years in the convent, attributes her entry to what she describes as “an illegitimate relationship” with a “predatory priest”. She was just 15. Now 88, but with an energy that belies her years, she told me:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I knew that it was inappropriate … But I thought it was a privilege at the time. I did. He was very versed in various things and French, he spoke French, you know, that sort of thing. I thought it was … on the surface and personally, I thought it was an honour.</p>
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<p>She remembers when a particular order came to her school and made joining sound so “fashionable and delightful” that she thought, why not?</p>
<h2>Brainwashing and sin</h2>
<p>All of the women took simple vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. Contact with the outside world was ruptured, letters in and out were read by their superiors. Convent life worked to erase a sense of individual identity through adherence to strict rules.</p>
<p>My mother said you were “not to speak about any part of your body and not to speak about your health in general and not to speak about … well, not to speak to anyone, it’s better not to”. The women were forbidden from forming special friendships (“that was a big thing”). You were not to “talk your heart out to anyone”. </p>
<blockquote>
<p>You knew you shouldn’t say, ‘I’m very lonely. I wish I could go home’. That would be rather sinful to say a thing like that to one of your co-mates. So you were to be always in good humour, always smiling, always, you know, very respectful towards everybody and again on the surface … You were really dumbed down in the sense of not being able to talk much, not to talk about your ‘life in the world’ as they used to call it. So it was definitely a brainwashing thing …</p>
</blockquote>
<p>For my mother, who had been thriving at school, it was a shock to discover that the promise of a scholarship did not materialise. On entering she discovered that the order had in fact no secondary school and the new recruits were expected to progress to their final state examinations through self-study, a correspondence course and occasional evening input from the nuns in the primary school.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>We were sitting on butter boxes, upturned butter boxes, because they obviously found it hard to accommodate that number of us – we must have been 30 at least – and we had other butter boxes in which we had our belongings and we were all crowded into a very big dormitory in a house that was originally a factory. So therefore, it was spartan, the whole idea, the whole thing. The food was regular, but very poor quality … And now when I look back at that, we were just herded in there as if we all had a vocation. What was a vocation, you know, at that age? You just knew nothing about it.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>No books, no stimulation</h2>
<p>Louise found the lack of stimulation stultifying. She told me:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>As there was no conversation with each other there was no way of enlightening each other in any way about life. We were totally sensory deprived, that was it. We never listened to music, we weren’t allowed to read books, we never saw a paper, we were never allowed to listen to the radio, so that we were totally cut off from the ‘outside world’, as they would call it. The ‘outside world’, which of course was full of evil anyway. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>Louise said that once she regained her freedom she remembered the thrill of being able to buy and read books. Her house reflects this love of reading and I was struck by how articulate and methodical she was when describing her experience, even when speaking about the mental ill health she still suffers from decades later. The legacy of such social conditioning is not easy to cast off. </p>
<p>Christina, who entered the convent at 16 and left at 43, also lamented the censorship of reading materials which she believed stunted their development. She said: “We were still treated like children. We always had to be assisted, watched. There was always somebody watching us … And we had no books, no stimulation, so we were non-entities.”</p>
<h2>Leave and be damned</h2>
<p>But if you wanted to leave, it was far from straightforward. On expressing doubts to a superior about their vocation the women might be told it was the devil tempting them, or that if they left they would be damned, or that through their “higher calling”, as one of the women put it, “one’s relations down to the third generation would achieve salvation through our fidelity”. Or that they would never be able to pay back the congregation for what they had been given. And they would submit and stay on.</p>
<p>Christina, who had confessed her relationship with the priest, was told if she left the convent she “would be in hell for all eternity”. “Who wanted to be in hell for all eternity? You know, the pictures we saw of hell in those days were terrible. I don’t even believe in hell now”, she added.</p>
<p>For Louise, the strain caused her to develop OCD and, in her late twenties, she had, in her words, a nervous breakdown. Following a period in hospital she said of her reluctant return to the convent: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>They just ignored my tears, they ignored my unhappiness. Then I decided I’d go on hunger strike and I didn’t know what hunger strike was but that’s what I did … I mean, that wasn’t in my nature. That sort of rebellion wasn’t in my nature and that went on for quite a while. But do you know something? I’ve often looked back on that and I’ve thought, how inhumane they were. They would let somebody who was so unhappy … and ignore their distress, totally ignore their distress.“</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Throughout her twenties and early thirties my mother’s desire to leave grew stronger and she dreamed of having a family. She recalls the longing she felt observing a scene of domesticity from her attic dormitory: "I used to look through a porthole, an attic window, as I was preparing to go into bed. I used to see a housewife or mother of a family, getting on about her, coming out to the clothesline was one of the things I noticed especially. And then the door of her kitchen would have been open and you’d see the lights inside and you’d get hints of family life.” She added: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>In my own mind I compared that to the lonely bed I had to lie on from half past nine that night. And you would wonder why you couldn’t have that – a life full of warmth - and what misfortune you had to have a vocation when a family life was all you wanted. And any inclination you mentioned towards that was regarded as a temptation by the devil to spoil your vocation. Any thoughts of escaping to a more natural life was regarded as being sinful. The idea of being unfaithful to your vocation was a step on the way to hell. It would be a mortal sin.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>A <a href="https://www.irishtimes.com/news/education/1969-when-teachers-walked-out-1.150948">teachers strike in 1969</a> provided a pause in a gruelling routine, allowing her time and space to think. By this time, she was 34 and the headteacher of a secondary school. The responsibility was empowering. She had begun to think for herself:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>It was the first time in my life I could make a decision. Because I had come in too young and had been told what to do always, told what to think, what not to think and all that and I suddenly decided ‘I am advising everybody and I’m telling everyone what we’ll do. Now why can’t I tell myself what to do?’ And during that strike I made up my mind that, no matter what, I’m going. So I went up and I told the superior at that time, who was a nicer person, a very kindly person, and I said I’ve been talking like this for years. And now I’m not asking for advice anymore, I’m just telling you that I must leave.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>In the aftermath of the Second Vatican Council there was an exodus as many nuns worldwide left their congregations and returned to the world as lay people. Karen Armstrong has written extensively of her own “climb out of darkness”, documenting her departure from convent life in a series of <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2844361-through-the-narrow-gate">memoirs</a>. Many left with nothing and were ill prepared for life after. </p>
<p>Research has drawn attention to this “<a href="https://www.vwt.org.au/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/Paradox-of-Service.pdf">paradox of service</a>”, that there was little or no acknowledgement of the enormity of former nuns’ unpaid contributions, as teachers, as nurses or in other ministry, in the form of practical or financial support. The authoritarian and repressive aspects of convent life in the pre-Vatican II era have been linked to <a href="http://repository.tavistockandportman.ac.uk/652/1/Camillus_Metcalfe_Final_version_of_PhD_thesis_2011.pdf">emotional deprivation</a>, <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/0959353509359138?journalCode=fapa#:%7E:text=While%20they%20are%20positioned%20by,their%20lives%20and%20living%20conditions.">social isolation</a> and <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/0966735012462841">psychological problems</a>.</p>
<p>Louise spoke of her humiliation of leaving with nothing but her crucifix and still wearing her nun’s habit. She still feels bitter about the lack of care for her welfare. She said:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I knew I would never, never, never come back. Not only did I never go back but I never contacted them after I left, never and they never contacted me, not once to say how are you doing? Are you coping? Now I was 32, I had entered at 16 and … in terms of life’s experiences I was still 16. I had never handled money, I had never had to make a decision, I had never lived and taken care of myself.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>My mother jokes about feeling self-conscious wearing miniskirts, which were in fashion when she left in 1969, because her many years of praying had left rough patches of skin on her knees. Others spoke of the social awkwardness of not knowing who The Beatles were and of hair loss following decades of wearing a veil.</p>
<p>Their leaving also had an impact on those who stayed. As communication was discouraged, they could not tell other sisters that they were leaving. According to one sister who remained:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>… When they decided to leave, they were told not to tell anyone. So they never told us, they just disappeared, you know, and I think that was awful.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“The bottom fell out of my world”, was how another nun described hearing the news of a fellow sister’s return to secular life.</p>
<h2>‘Are nuns human?’</h2>
<p>Nuns occupy a contentious place within Irish collective memory. <a href="https://www.rte.ie/archives/2016/0118/761035-are-nuns-human/">‘Are nuns human?’</a>, the title of a two-part documentary made for Irish television in 1971, reveals perhaps a longstanding ambivalence about the image of women religious. Nuns were responsible for historical injustices, colluding in oppressive narratives orchestrated by the dyad of church and state. This is apparent from inquiries into the <a href="https://www.gov.ie/en/collection/a69a14-report-of-the-inter-departmental-committee-to-establish-the-facts-of/?referrer=http://www.justice.ie/en/JELR/Pages/MagdalenRpt2013">Magdalen Laundries</a> <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2021/jan/12/ireland-report-appalling-abuse-mother-baby-homes">and</a> the “<a href="https://www.gov.ie/en/publication/d4b3d-final-report-of-the-commission-of-investigation-into-mother-and-baby-homes/">mother and baby homes</a>”. </p>
<p>The <a href="http://clannproject.org/clann-report/">Clann Report</a>, published in 2018, showed how the legacy of such abuse reverberated beyond Ireland, revealing that from the 1940s until the 1970s, in excess of 2,000 children were sent from Ireland to the US for adoption. This international adoption scheme was depicted in the Oscar-nominated film <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/filmblog/2013/nov/04/philomena-catholic-church-failings-film-judi-dench">Philomena</a>. The Clann Report raises the question of possible falsification of children’s deaths in institutions run by nuns to facilitate illegal adoptions. </p>
<p>Yet, this is not the full story. </p>
<p>Nuns also played a key role in advancing female education as well as social care. Portrayals of nuns as evil caricatures risk simplifying representations of the past, enabling state and society to absolve themselves of their part in Ireland’s <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/3704856">“architecture of containment”</a> and the <a href="https://pureadmin.qub.ac.uk/ws/portalfiles/portal/249543780/Fischer_Gender_20nation_20and_20politics_2016_1.pdf">“politics of shame”</a>.</p>
<p>Responding to the Report of the Commission of Investigation into Mother and Baby Homes in 2021, then Taoiseach Micheál Martin noted how the state and society embraced a <a href="https://www.oireachtas.ie/en/debates/debate/dail/2021-01-13/10/">perverse religious morality and control, judgmentalism and moral certainty</a>
and issued <a href="https://www.thejournal.ie/micheal-martin-state-apology-mother-and-baby-homes-5323730-Jan2021/">an apology</a> to the survivors of mother and baby homes. </p>
<p>The nature of historical abuse crimes linked to the Catholic church is also a <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-44209971">global phenomenon</a> that has become increasingly complex. </p>
<p>But, according to <a href="https://press.vatican.va/content/salastampa/en/documentation/cardinali_biografie/cardinali_bio_aviz-braz-de_j.html">Cardinal João Braz de Aviz</a>, nuns have also <a href="https://www.laciviltacattolica.com/authority-and-abuse-issues-among-women-religious/">suffered abuse</a> within their own <a href="https://www.thetablet.co.uk/news/14745/religious-sisters-speak-out-about-abuse">congregations</a>
and the sexual abuse of nuns by the clergy has even been <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-47134033">acknowledged by the pope</a>. Meanwhile, <a href="http://www.congregationconsecratedlife.va/content/dam/vitaconsacrata/LibriPPDF/Inglese/New%20Wine%20in%20new%20Wineskins.pdf">Vatican guidelines published in 2017</a> recognised abuse of power within women’s institutes.</p>
<p>My own research highlights the contrast which existed between the positions of power and privilege held by the religious orders in Irish society on the one hand and the hidden, self-sacrificing and often powerless life of the individual nun on the other. </p>
<h2>‘I’m not bitter’</h2>
<p>The church’s position today is far less secure than it was in the 1950s. Yet while institutional observance, as well as the proportion and total number of Catholics in the Irish population <a href="https://www.cso.ie/en/csolatestnews/presspages/2017/census2016profile8-irishtravellersethnicityandreligion/">continues to fall</a> (details of the 2016 census show that Catholics comprise 78.3% of the population compared with 84.2% five years previously), it would seem that Catholicism remains coupled with Irish identity for over three quarters of the population. </p>
<p>Many convents – once a dominant symbol of faith and authority in Irish towns and cities – lie derelict or are undergoing redevelopment. The ageing population of nuns tend to live in small groups in houses located within their local community.</p>
<p>Unlike the other women in the study who have eschewed any links with their previous life, my mother has been back in touch with some sisters from her former congregation in recent years. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="Woman poses for a picture while at a dinner dance." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/526545/original/file-20230516-29-b043az.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/526545/original/file-20230516-29-b043az.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=800&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/526545/original/file-20230516-29-b043az.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=800&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/526545/original/file-20230516-29-b043az.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=800&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/526545/original/file-20230516-29-b043az.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1005&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/526545/original/file-20230516-29-b043az.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1005&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/526545/original/file-20230516-29-b043az.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1005&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The author’s mother, Mary, at a dinner dance with her future husband about a year after leaving the convent.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Reflecting on her former identity, she said:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Whereas I’m not bitter, at the same time I’ve come to the conclusion that it was all really badly done and that many people were harmed and that those of us who were educated had something to fall back on when we left, but others hadn’t and were completely out of step with their age group and experienced an inability to find a job and to find a partner because they were older.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Perhaps it helped that she met my father, started a family and created the more “natural life” that she imagined for herself looking out from her attic window. </p>
<hr>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=112&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=112&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=112&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=140&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=140&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=140&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption"></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p><em>For you: more from our <a href="https://theconversation.com/uk/topics/insights-series-71218?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=TCUKengagement&utm_content=InsightsUK">Insights series</a>:</em></p>
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<li><p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/its-like-youre-a-criminal-but-i-am-not-a-criminal-first-hand-accounts-of-the-trauma-of-being-stuck-in-the-uk-asylum-system-202276?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=TCUKengagement&utm_content=InsightsUK">‘It’s like you’re a criminal, but I am not a criminal.’ First-hand accounts of the trauma of being stuck in the UK asylum system
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<li><p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/a-toxic-policy-with-little-returns-lessons-for-the-uk-rwanda-deal-from-australia-and-the-us-201790?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=TCUKengagement&utm_content=InsightsUK">‘A toxic policy with little returns’ – lessons for the UK-Rwanda deal from Australia and the US</a></em></p></li>
<li><p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/covid-heroes-left-behind-the-invisible-women-struggling-to-make-ends-meet-198210?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=TCUKengagement&utm_content=InsightsUK">COVID heroes left behind: the ‘invisible’ women struggling to make ends meet
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<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Karen Hanrahan receives funding from the Arts and Humanities Research Council for her doctoral research. </span></em></p>Brainwashed, fearful and abused: convent life worked to erase a sense of individual identity through adherence to strict rules.Karen Hanrahan, Principal Lecturer, School of Education, University of BrightonLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1651432021-07-30T12:21:46Z2021-07-30T12:21:46Z‘Outing’ of priest shines light on power – and partisanship – of Catholic media<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/413756/original/file-20210729-23-b75arx.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=15%2C15%2C5176%2C3456&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">The pope is big news, and provides plenty of column inches in the US.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/news-photo/on-21-june-2018-the-world-council-of-churches-receives-a-news-photo/1132276780?adppopup=true">Godong/Universal Images Group via Getty Images</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>It had all the hallmarks of a sensationalist tabloid sting.</p>
<p>On July 21, 2021, an <a href="https://www.pillarcatholic.com/p/pillar-investigates-usccb-gen-sec">article appeared alleging</a> that a senior U.S. priest, Monsignor Jeffrey Burrill, had used the hook-up app Grindr, with data from the app placing him at a number of gay bars. Burrill, the now former General Secretary of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/religion/2021/07/20/bishop-misconduct-resign-burrill/">promptly resigned</a>.</p>
<p>But the report was not published by an outlet that many Americans would associated with such sex “exposés.” Indeed, most would have never have heard of it at all. It was The Pillar, a <a href="https://www.pillarcatholic.com/about">small newsletter founded in early 2021</a>, that makes up just a tiny part of the Catholic media landscape in the U.S.</p>
<p>As a <a href="https://americanstudies.nd.edu/faculty/peter-cajka/">scholar of American Catholicism and culture</a>, I take a keen interest in Catholic media. My recent book, “<a href="https://press.uchicago.edu/ucp/books/book/chicago/F/bo77932169.html">Follow Your Conscience: The Catholic Church and the Spirit of the Sixties</a>,” draws upon dozens of articles in the Catholic media as primary sources for historical analysis. While many Americans may be familiar with evangelical outlets like <a href="https://www.christianitytoday.com/">Christianity Today</a> or the <a href="https://www.christianpost.com/">Christian Post</a> – not to mention the hundreds of evangelical radio stations across the nation – the Catholic media seems to have less prominence on the national stage. </p>
<p>But as The Pillar’s reporting on Burrill shows, Catholic journalism can nonetheless be influential – and can split opinion in just the same way as media with a wider audience. </p>
<h2>A newspaper for every diocese</h2>
<p>The Catholic mediascape is made up of a series of publications at the local, national and global level. Almost <a href="http://www.ourcatholicneighborhood.com/faith/evangelization/media/newspapers/u.s.-diocesan-newspapers">every diocese has its own newspaper</a> that covers local events like first communions – when a Catholic receives the Eucharist, the bread and wine transformed into Christ’s body and blood, for the first time – or the construction of a new school gym.</p>
<p>But many Catholic readers also like to be informed on the bigger picture of Catholicism, and notably the Pope. In 2014, the Boston Globe, with the help of journalist John Allen, <a href="https://cruxnow.com/">founded Crux</a> to report on the Vatican for an American Catholic audience. </p>
<p>Catholic journalists not only report on the church itself, they aim to offer a Catholic perspective on broader American stories. That was the founding premise behind important Catholic <a href="https://www.commonwealmagazine.org/">magazines like Commonweal</a>, founded by laypeople in 1924, and <a href="https://www.americamagazine.org/">America, a monthly publication</a> run by Jesuits in New York City. </p>
<p>Increasingly, like the secular media, Catholic outlets have been polarized and drawn into the culture war. They too have taken positions that <a href="https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2019/01/24/like-americans-overall-u-s-catholics-are-sharply-divided-by-party/">divide readers and win constituents</a> with particular worldviews. <a href="https://www.ncronline.org/">National Catholic Reporter</a>, in the spirit of <a href="https://www.npr.org/2012/10/10/162573716/why-is-vatican-ii-so-important">the Second Vatican Council</a> – the meeting of the world’s bishops 1962 to 1965 that introduced changes like Mass in the vernacular and a new respect for the religious liberty of members of other faiths – is a liberal outlet that cut its teeth on criticism of the Vietnam War and continues to promote social justice. </p>
<p>Its counterpart, the <a href="https://www.ncregister.com/?gclid=CjwKCAjwo4mIBhBsEiwAKgzXODmopvSLuybqeOEoP_SY9efcHkArwWf6CAa87lbegATtskNEeH8CxRoCqTkQAvD_BwE">National Catholic Register</a>, prefers the moral clarity and conservative positions offered by Popes like John Paul II and Benedict XIV, particularly on matters of gender, sexuality and politics. Its readers overlap with viewers of the <a href="https://www.ewtn.com/">Eternal Word Television Network</a>, a network critical of the more liberal Pope Francis.</p>
<p>On the issue of homosexuality, Catholic media similarly expresses a variety of views. America magazine consistently features the writings of <a href="https://www.americamagazine.org/voices/james-martin-sj">Father Jim Martin</a>, a Jesuit priest who has encouraged the church to treat the gay community with more dignity. The periodical <a href="https://www.firstthings.com/">First Things</a>, meanwhile, delights in offering readers searing critiques of secular modernity by Catholic conservative writers. </p>
<h2>Ethical concerns</h2>
<p>Into this partisan media mix emerged The Pillar in 2021 and its recent report on Burrill. The investigation prompted ethical <a href="https://nypost.com/2021/07/25/reporting-that-outed-catholic-priest-reveals-data-is-not-private/">concerns over the use of data privacy</a> – The Pillar’s report relied on geolocation data from the Grindr app that it legally bought. There were also complaints that the reporting appeared to <a href="https://religionnews.com/2021/07/20/the-pillar-investigation-of-monsignor-burrill-is-unethical-homophobic-innuendo/">conflate Burrill’s apparent homosexuality with the child abuse scandal</a> in the Catholic church.</p>
<p>The ethics of The Pillar’s article aside, the reporting does tap into a tradition of Catholic media shining a light on church issues and elevating it to national attention.</p>
<p>A generation ago, Catholic media reporting was crucial in helping expose the sexual abuse of children by priests.</p>
<p>On June 7, 1985, an article by investigative journalist <a href="https://www.ncronline.org/authors/jason-berry">Jason Berry in the National Catholic Reporter</a> exposed not only the <a href="https://minnesota.publicradio.org/collections/catholic-church/betrayed-by-silence/ch1/">pedophilia of priest Gilbert Gauthe</a>, but also the church’s complicity to cover it up. Berry, a practicing Catholic who covered the case initially for a local Louisiana paper, detailed for a national readership how Gauthe had abused dozens of children in the Diocese of Lafayette starting in 1972. He charted the local hierarchy’s efforts to keep the case out of the public eye and how church officials ignored reports of the abuse. Berry’s article ran for several pages, replete with headlines like “PEDOPHILE PRIEST: STUDY IN INEPT CHURCH RESPONSE” and “MANY KNEW OF FATHER’S PROBLEM BUT NO-ONE STOPPED HIM.” </p>
<p>The national press picked up the story only after it appeared in National Catholic Reporter.</p>
<p>The publication of Berry’s writings on Gauthe marked the beginning of a new, vigorous mode of national criticism in the Catholic press of church hierarchy for allegedly covering up sex abuse scandals.</p>
<h2>Reporting on scandals</h2>
<p>Without journalists like Jason Berry, the exposure of the clergy abuse crisis may have played along very different lines. To put it simply, it moved the interpretation of the crisis away from a “bad apple” paradigm – it which individual priests were to blame – towards a much more systemic approach which looked at a Catholic culture that facilitates abuse.</p>
<p>The Pillar has tried to frame its investigation of Burrill in a similar light. It implies that Burrill’s use of hookup apps might further develop a culture of abuse in the church. The Pillar’s article quotes <a href="https://dunwoodie.edu/people/fr-thomas-v-berg">moral theologian Father Thomas Berg</a> and the late psychological and <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2018/08/09/nyregion/aw-richard-sipe-a-leading-voice-on-clergy-sex-abuse-dies-at-85.html">clergy sex abuse expert Richard Sipe</a>, both of who argue that there is a connection between a cleric violating his vows of celibacy with other adults and a potential abuse of adolescents. The suggestion is that it encourages “networks of protection and tolerance among sexually active clerics,” as The Pillar suggests.</p>
<p>But this argument requires a fine dance that risks falling into the trap of connecting the act of homosexuality with pedophilia. <a href="https://www.ncronline.org/news/opinion/pillar-investigation-monsignor-burrill-unethical-homophobic-innuendo">Not everybody is convinced</a> that The Pillar’s article drew this line sufficiently.</p>
<p>Nonetheless, it has rekindled a debate over the role of Catholic media.</p>
<p>In his 1996 book, “<a href="https://global.oup.com/academic/product/pedophiles-and-priests-9780195145977?cc=us&lang=en&">Pedophiles and Priest</a>,” <a href="https://www.baylor.edu/history/index.php?id=87862">historian Philip Jenkins</a> criticizes Berry’s landmark reporting for making it appear as if everyone in Louisiana Church structure, from the bishops to fellow priests, were at fault for Gauthe’s prolific abuse. Jenkins argues that the June 1985 article provided a formula for future reporting: first a journalist details some rumors, then he or she writes about how the allegations troubled parents, then the reporter mentions a transfer of a priest to a new parish and, finally, the investigator quotes an expert who comments on the structural nature of the crisis. In this way, Jenkins suggested, journalists make abuse appear more pervasive than it is. Although Jenkins book was written in the mid-1990s, his analysis, while problematic, remains important.</p>
<p>[<em>Over 100,000 readers rely on The Conversation’s newsletter to understand the world.</em> <a href="https://theconversation.com/us/newsletters/the-daily-3?utm_source=TCUS&utm_medium=inline-link&utm_campaign=newsletter-text&utm_content=100Ksignup">Sign up today</a>.]</p>
<p>The abuse crisis is not the only challenge the Catholic Church faces – it is currently in the midst of struggle between <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2021/07/27/opinion/pope-francis-catholic-church.html">conservative and more progressive elements</a>. In <a href="https://www.ncronline.org/news/opinion/pillar-investigation-monsignor-burrill-unethical-homophobic-innuendo">tying to draw a connection between Burrill’s apparent homosexuality and his potential future complicity</a> in the clergy abuse crisis, The Pillar, one of the newest entrants in the Catholic media landscape, has waded into the church’s culture war and placed itself among the outlets that will be reporting on it in the months and years to come.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/165143/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Peter Cajka does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>An article that used geolocation data to place a priest at gay bars raises questions over journalistic ethics, and shines a light on the Catholic media landscape.Peter Cajka, Professor of American Studies, University of Notre DameLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/288052014-07-11T01:58:16Z2014-07-11T01:58:16ZAnglican shift on confessions puts abuse victims’ interests first<p>The Australian Anglican Church has put the <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2014-07-03/anglican-priests-to-have-option-of-disclosing-confessions/5568672?section=australianetworknews">interests of children and victims of crime ahead</a> of tradition and doctrine. Priests who hear confessions about serious criminal offences, including child abuse, will no longer be required to keep the confession confidential.</p>
<p>At the tri-annual <a href="http://www.anglican.org.au/general-synods/2014/Pages/General-Synod-2014.aspx">sitting of General Synod</a> – the church’s “parliament” - Anglican Church leaders debated the church’s response to the <a href="http://www.childabuseroyalcommission.gov.au/">Royal Commission into the Institutional Handling of Child Sexual Abuse</a>. A particular thorny issue for the church is the confessional seal. <a href="http://www.anglican.org.au/governance/commissions/documents/professional-standards/pastoral%20guidelines%20with%20special%20reference%20to%20child%20sexual%20abuse.pdf">Under church law</a>, priests who heard private ritual confessions of sins were required to keep all confessions confidential, regardless of the nature of the confession.</p>
<p>The 1989 Canon Concerning Confession states:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>If any person confess his or her secret and hidden sins to an ordained minister for the unburdening of conscience and to receive spiritual consolation and ease of mind, such minister shall not at any time reveal or make known any crime or offence or sin so confessed and committed to trust and secrecy by that person without the consent of that person.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>Acting on abuse as a crime</h2>
<p>The Anglican Church has <a href="http://www.anglican.org.au/general-synods/2014/Documents/CHILDREN%20OUTWEIGH%20CONFESSIONAL.pdf">revised its position</a>. Priests will be permitted to break the seal of confession in some circumstances. The Canon Concerning Confessions 1989 (Amendment) Canon 2014 states that:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>… where a person confesses that he or she has committed a serious offence an ordained minister is only obliged to keep confidential the serious offence so confessed where the ordained minister is reasonably satisfied that the person has reported the serious offence to the police.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The seal of confession will no longer apply to confessions of serious offences. This includes criminal offences involving child abuse, child exploitation material or crimes punishable by life imprisonment or imprisonment for five or more years. </p>
<p>The changes will not take effect immediately. The Anglican Church in Australia is made up of <a href="http://www.anglican.org.au/community/Pages/dioceses.aspx">23 separate dioceses</a>. Each diocese will need to adopt the changes individually. Most are expected to do so before the end of the year. </p>
<figure class="align-right ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/53491/original/jmk39zt8-1404962155.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/53491/original/jmk39zt8-1404962155.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=707&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/53491/original/jmk39zt8-1404962155.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=707&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/53491/original/jmk39zt8-1404962155.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=707&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/53491/original/jmk39zt8-1404962155.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=889&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/53491/original/jmk39zt8-1404962155.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=889&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/53491/original/jmk39zt8-1404962155.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=889&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">In 1215, Pope Innocent III made confession compulsory. Five centuries after the split from Rome, it is a voluntary ritual for Anglicans.</span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The impact of the change in church law is likely to be primarily symbolic. Anglicans are not required to attend private confession, unlike Roman Catholics.</p>
<p>However, private ritual confession has a long history in the church. Pope Innocent III introduced annual compulsory private confession in 1215. The Church of England retained the ritual on separation from Rome. </p>
<p>What the change does is signal to the church community and the wider Australian public that the church takes the issue of child sexual abuse seriously. As Archbishop Driver put it:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>What this [church] legislation is doing has made it absolutely clear that that’s what the church expects and also permits, so clergy are not put in the position of feeling that they’re breaking a sacred vow.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>In the current climate anything that has an element of secrecy, especially in relation to child abuse, is likely to be viewed as a cover-up. By allowing priests to break the seal of confession for serious offences the church is making it clear that it will no longer allow the confessional seal to be used as an excuse to hide or cover up abuse. </p>
<p>The new rule does not require priests to report confessions of serious offences to the police or other authorities. The decision is left to the discretion of the priest. However, it is now at least an option. It is a step in the right direction.</p>
<h2>Inconsistency in state laws remains</h2>
<p>There are few requirements in the civil law for priests to report child sexual offences. All states and territories have mandatory child abuse reporting laws. Who is required to report varies from <a href="http://www.aifs.gov.au/institute/pubs/carc/2.html">state to state</a>.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/legis/sa/consol_act/cpa1993229/s11.html">South Australia</a> is the only state to require priests to report child abuse. However, there is an exemption for information a priest receives as part of a confession.</p>
<p>The Royal Commission has not yet considered whether mandatory reporting laws should be extended to clergy. A Victorian <a href="http://www.parliament.vic.gov.au/fcdc/article/1788">Inquiry into the Handling of Child Abuse by Religious and other Non-Governmental Organisations</a> recommended against extending mandatory reporting to priests. The committee was of the opinion that:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>… extending mandatory welfare reporting would not necessarily ensure an appropriate investigation of suspected child abuse, particularly where the abuse is committed by religious personnel.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>In <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/legis/nsw/consol_act/ca190082/s316.html">New South Wales</a> and <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/legis/vic/consol_act/ca195882/s326.html">Victoria</a> it is a crime not to report a crime punishable by life imprisonment or imprisonment for five or more years. </p>
<p>In New South Wales the police must attain permission from the attorney-general to prosecute a priest for failing to report a serious offence. In 2012, <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/nsw/priest-charged-with-hiding-sex-crimes-20120830-253bn.html">Fr Tom Brennan</a>, a Catholic priest, was charged for failing to report sexual abuse of children by John Denham. Fr Brennan <a href="http://www.theaustralian.com.au/news/nation/priest-tom-brennan-dies-before-cover-up-court-case/story-e6frg6nf-1226485974755?nk=179dc02bba450b9bd3c57e24eedb5438">died</a> before the case could be tried.</p>
<p>In <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/legis/vic/consol_act/ca195882/s326.html">Victoria</a>, only a person who also “accepts any benefit for not disclosing that information” can be charged. The Victorian inquiry recommended that this requirement be removed. </p>
<p>In <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/legis/vic/consol_act/ea200880/s127.html">Victorian</a>, <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/legis/nsw/consol_act/ea199580/s127.html">New South Wales</a>, <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/legis/tas/consol_act/ea200180/s127.html">Tasmanian</a> and <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/legis/cth/consol_act/ea199580/s127.htm">federal</a> courts, a priest may refuse to give evidence about information he or she received during a private confession. </p>
<p>In Western Australian, Northern Territory, South Australian and Queensland courts priests are not exempt from giving evidence about what they have heard in a confession. Failure to give evidence, if required, can result in a priest being held in contempt of court.</p>
<p>In due course, the Royal Commission will need to consider if any of these laws need to change.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/28805/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Renae Barker is the Diocesan Advocate of the Anglican Diocese of Bunbury and an ex officio member of their Board of Trustees.</span></em></p>The Australian Anglican Church has put the interests of children and victims of crime ahead of tradition and doctrine. Priests who hear confessions about serious criminal offences, including child abuse…Renae Barker, Lecturer in Law , The University of Western AustraliaLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/202052013-11-13T05:54:11Z2013-11-13T05:54:11ZChild sex abuse inquiry uncovers generations of cruelty and moral corruption<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/35138/original/kt4j59dp-1384321251.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">The estimate that there have been several thousands of victims is conservative, at best.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">shutterstock</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Twelve months ago, I wrote an <a href="https://theconversation.com/royal-commission-must-treat-the-church-like-a-corrupt-police-force-10842">article</a> encouraging inquiries into child sex abuse to treat the church like a corrupt police force. Today, the first of the nation’s inquiries to child sex abuse, run by the Victorian government’s Family and Community Development Committee, released its <a href="https://s3-ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/family-and-community-development-committee/Executive+summary+%26+recommendations.pdf">recommendations</a>, and they have done just that. </p>
<p>This inquiry was established prior to the national <a href="http://www.childabuseroyalcommission.gov.au/">Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse</a>. As such, it focuses on child sex abuse in Victorian non-government organisations. Above all else, the findings and recommendations of the inquiry suggest a government-initiated response to child sex abuse in any part of Australia is long overdue. </p>
<p>As the committee acknowledges, the extent of abuse at the hand of non-government actors (especially in religious organisations) is difficult to measure. However, it <a href="https://s3-ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/family-and-community-development-committee/Executive+summary+&+recommendations.pdf">reasonably estimates</a> that: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>…there have been several thousand victims criminally abused in non-government organisations in Victoria alone. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>The nature of the organisations investigated by the inquiry prevents the true extent of the crime from being known. For example, the inquiry found that victims were often deterred or actively discouraged from making allegations of abuse against members of the Catholic Church because of the esteem held by the church and its employees within the community. </p>
<p>Also, as identified by the commission, the fact that practices of abuse have spanned generations – and that a number of suicides that have resulted from child sex abuse in Victoria – mean that any estimated number of victims provided will, at best, be a conservative figure. </p>
<p>The <a href="https://s3-ap-southeast-2.amazonaws.com/family-and-community-development-committee/Executive+summary+&+recommendations.pdf">inquiry</a> found religious organisations were less likely “than any other group in society” to adequately protect children subjected to criminal abuse. This had less to do with the active role they play in society, and more to do with these organisations wanting to protect their own finances and reputation.</p>
<p>These considerations, coupled with religious practices of forgiveness and redemption, created a morally corrupt organisational culture that promoted turning a blind eye and upholding a cassock of silence. It is precisely this organisational culture that the recommendations of the Victorian inquiry aim to target. </p>
<p>The committee proposed 15 <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2013-11-13/15-recommendations-of-the-victorian-parliament27s-inquiry-into/5088928">recommendations</a> to curb future criminal child abuses, and to restore justice to victims and survivors of sex abuse in non-government organisations in Victoria. </p>
<p>Some of these recommendations involve making wide-sweeping legislative changes to both civil and criminal laws. These changes not only allow victims to seek adequate compensation, but also create criminal offences for turning a blind eye to abuse, and for “grooming” individuals with the intention of committing a sexual offence against a child. </p>
<p>In doing so, the committee effectively targets the factors which have allowed for systemic practices of child sex abuse to take root in Victorian organisations. By acknowledging that internal systems and practices – such as organisational hierarchies and codes of silence – have fostered practices of child sex abuse in some organisations, the committee not only proposes reforms that address organisational risk, it provides long overdue recognition and respect for victims. </p>
<p>These recommendations look promising. By addressing the need for legislative reform, acknowledging the practices (both past and present) that have enabled criminal child abuse, and emphasising the ongoing role of prevention and education to ensure that these crimes are curbed and that both the public and the organisations are aware of the protocols for protection, the committee has essentially acknowledged two things. </p>
<p>First, that the nature of this criminal organisational culture is multifaceted. Focusing purely on strengthening legislation will not address how systemic practices of child sex abuse came into being, or how they spread throughout an organisation. </p>
<p>Second, the success of these reforms lies in ongoing governmental support. It cannot be assumed that these changes will be implemented overnight and met with success. Indeed, they can be met with resistance. </p>
<p>Success thus lies in an ongoing commitment by the government to prevention and education efforts. This will ensure that individuals feel confident in making allegations of abuse; just as members of the public need to feel that their allegations are taken seriously, so too do whistleblowers.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/35135/original/2prybzyg-1384320664.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/35135/original/2prybzyg-1384320664.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/35135/original/2prybzyg-1384320664.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/35135/original/2prybzyg-1384320664.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/35135/original/2prybzyg-1384320664.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/35135/original/2prybzyg-1384320664.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/35135/original/2prybzyg-1384320664.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The report provides a stinging criticism of the Catholic Church for covering up child sexual abuse and failing to stop it.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">AAP/Paul Jeffers</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In handling the monumental task of prevention, the committee recommends that an independent organisation be established. This body, it is proposed, should act in a similar fashion to a number of Australia’s anti-corruption commissions. Operating as a statutory body independent of the government, it should be given adequate powers to manage and investigate allegations of abuse, and monitor organisations to ensure that they deliver on their outcomes, such as funding compensation and meeting duty of care requirements.</p>
<p>Inquiry committee chair Georgie Crozier <a href="http://www.parliament.vic.gov.au/images/stories/committees/fcdc/inquiries/57th/Child_Abuse_Inquiry/Media_Releases/131113_MR_Child_abuse_Inquiry_-_Final_report_tabled_today.pdf">stated</a> that she hopes “the recommendations will help prevent abuse of children into the future” and that the inquiry:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>…will assist the Royal Commission and provide a blueprint for other states in reviewing their own child protection frameworks. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>Despite this, the operational relationship between the Victorian findings and that of the national Royal Commission remains unclear. It <a href="http://www.theaustralian.com.au/national-affairs/state-politics/hang-your-heads-in-shame-denis-napthine-tells-catholic-leaders/story-e6frgczx-1226759110593">has been reported</a> that the Victorian government has opted against waiting for the findings of the royal commission, choosing rather to implement some of the Victorian inquiry’s recommendations as soon as possible. This sense of urgency has been <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2013-11-13/inquiry-recommnends-making-failure-to-report-sexual-abuse/5088212">voiced</a> by Victorian premier Denis Napthine. </p>
<p>But this approach risks jeopardising the success of reform in Victoria. While some recommendations – such as legislative reform – should be implemented soon so as to start the process of change, the Victorian government should wait to establish the independent body until the operational relationship with the royal commission becomes clearer. </p>
<p>To risk having different approaches to investigating and curbing child sex abuse between states, or between the state and the federal level, risks politicising anti-abuse efforts. This is an issue that is beyond politics, and to see reform efforts fail or weaken would endanger children currently in these organisations, and betray the trust of victims already let down by the system. </p>
<p>Francis Sullivan, CEO of the Catholic Church’s Truth, Justice and Healing Council, <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/pm/content/2013/s3861804.htm">recently stated</a> that the public should “judge us on our actions”. It is time for the Victorian government to be judged in the same way.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/20205/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Olivia Monaghan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Twelve months ago, I wrote an article encouraging inquiries into child sex abuse to treat the church like a corrupt police force. Today, the first of the nation’s inquiries to child sex abuse, run by the…Olivia Monaghan, PhD student in the School of Social and Political Sciences, The University of MelbourneLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/152422013-06-19T20:36:40Z2013-06-19T20:36:40ZWhat place for the Catholic Church in 21st century Australia?<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/25668/original/t7yx6sh5-1371448108.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Our attitudes towards religious institutions - in particular the Catholic Church - has changed as scandal and controversy afflicts the former bastion of faith.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">AAP/Simon Mossman</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>As a young girl in the 1960s, I attended a Catholic boarding school. The nuns could be scary. When they walked the wintry and un-illuminated corridors of the convent, their knee-length rosary beads jangled against their ankle-length black habits. </p>
<p>The unfriendly “stomp stomp” of their chunky, black, lace-up shoes contrasted with the angular, white starched coif atop their head. The outer layer of their ensemble, the monastic cloth scapular, also known as the “yoke of Christ”, draped to the floor back and front. Their oft stern faces matched their garb.</p>
<p>These unforgiving medieval garments were in collaboration with, it seems, the Catholic teachings of the time. Among these were a fear of God; an even greater fear of hell; fear of communists; obedience to God and the religious; chaste thoughts (it was obligatory, in bed, to place one’s arms across the chest in the shape of a cross whilst thinking of Our Lady); and unquestioning belief in Catholic doctrine.</p>
<p>Fast forward to 2013 and the ageing and diminishing population of nuns now wears civvies and this once-Catholic girl, along with many thousands of others, no longer believes in God and makes up her own mind about what to think and believe.</p>
<p>As borne out by the statistics, the Catholic Church in Australia, with about 5.5 million members (a quarter of the population) is now a greatly diminished force in society and the reasons for such a decline are multiple.</p>
<p>According to a <a href="http://pro.catholic.org.au/pdf/2009%20Report%20on%20Aust%20Catholic%20Religious.pdf">survey</a> of the Catholic Religious Institutes in Australia, the number of Catholic nuns, brothers and priests (not including diocesan priests) in Australia reduced by 67% in the years between 1966 and 2009.</p>
<p>In 1954, 74% of the Catholic population attended Mass on a weekly basis. This peak in Australia contrasts with about 12% of Catholics attending Mass periodically (not weekly) in 2011 - despite an increase in the number of Catholics.</p>
<p>The current median age of Catholic religious in Australia is 73 years and their death is vastly outstripping new members of the religion.</p>
<p>Although many Catholics retain a faith and belief in God, they no longer support the institutional church. Others have lost faith in a god and the institution and have become people of “no religion”.</p>
<p>Many Catholic doctrines no longer fit a modern western and increasing secular society. Sex, contraception, gender, homosexuality, male power, contentious wealth and the recent emergence of the sex abuse crisis are critical factors bringing about the great exodus of the clergy and the faithful from the antediluvian church.</p>
<p>Let’s take the law of celibacy. More a discipline than a doctrine, celibacy has a tortuous and fiery history. According to the <a href="http://www.parliament.vic.gov.au/images/stories/committees/fcdc/inquiries/57th/Child_Abuse_Inquiry/Transcripts/Phil_ODonnell_23-Jan-13.pdf">testimony of ex-priest Phil O’Donnell</a> at the Victorian parliamentary inquiry into in institutional responses to child sex abuse, many priests, required to be celibate, are sexually active. They cope with this internal dilemma by compartmentalising their lives – the public life of celibate priest and the private, sexually active life. Because celibacy can be “a millstone” around the cleric’s neck, the hierarchy, including Rome, will “tolerate” the two states, according to O’Donnell.</p>
<p>Rome may well tolerate such duplicity, but the clergy is increasingly opting out and would-be clerics are simply not opting in.</p>
<p>Another witness at the inquiry talked about the once-accepted notion (or perhaps it still exists for some) that male clergy having sex with other men or with children was not real sex. Therefore, it could be countenanced.</p>
<p>Such glaring hypocrisy is compounded by the church forbidding its faithful from engaging in sex before marriage, contraception within marriage (other than abstinence), masturbation and same-sex sex, let alone same-sex marriage.</p>
<p>Another reason for the diminution of the Catholic Church relates to gender - a dirty word for the all-male Catholic hierarchy. Women cannot be priests. This medieval and rigidly held dogma is an untouchable within the Vatican, and the longer they safeguard it, the more the religious and the faithful will depart. A no-brainer.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/25674/original/gm378jw5-1371450168.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/25674/original/gm378jw5-1371450168.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=405&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/25674/original/gm378jw5-1371450168.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=405&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/25674/original/gm378jw5-1371450168.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=405&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/25674/original/gm378jw5-1371450168.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=509&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/25674/original/gm378jw5-1371450168.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=509&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/25674/original/gm378jw5-1371450168.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=509&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Cardinal George Pell has been forced to publicly defend the Catholic Church against accusations that the church covered up historical sex abuse.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">AAP/Joe Castro</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The extraordinary wealth of the Catholic Church contributes to its power: a power and wealth many believe should attract the status of a corporation. The Catholic Church is an unincorporated association which is not a legal entity and, as such, cannot hold assets or property in its own name. Rather, the multiple property trusts of the different dioceses and religious orders - which are enshrined in legislation - hold all the property, assets and wealth of the Catholic Church.</p>
<p>It is the <a href="http://www.adogs.info/statistics11.htm">biggest private employer</a> in Australia with 180,000 employees. It is reported that it <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/news/National/Catholics-lead-rise-in-charity-revenue/2005/03/22/1111254030602.html">owns</a> A$100billion worth of properties and other assets; it makes A$15billion a year from its businesses (particularly education, health and welfare services) and it receives hundreds of millions of dollars each year by way of donations from parishioners.</p>
<p>In Australia, the Catholic Church, along with other religious organisations, has an elitist <a href="http://www.theage.com.au/news/national/churches-reap-the-benefits-of-belief-500-million-in-taxexemptions/2006/04/28/1146198351877.html?page=fullpage#contentSwap1">tax-free status</a>. All of its investment earnings are tax free: it does not pay rates for its property, it does not pay land tax and there is no capital gains tax on the sale of assets. It demands all the perks, but none of the fiscal responsibilities.</p>
<p>If the Catholic Church were a corporation, not only would this provide clergy abuse victims with a legal entity that could be sued, it would also attract a tax status like any other big business, thus contributing back to society.</p>
<p>But, in claiming penury, the Catholic Church displays a pathological lack of compassion and cruelty to thousands of clergy sex abuse victims in Australia. It actively constructs - or at least blindly refuses to change - its affairs to avoid its responsibilities. No wonder its faithful are deserting.</p>
<p>Probably the greatest deception and betrayal of the Catholic hierarchy, and the reason for an even greater mass departure, is its gross mismanagement of its sex abuse crisis and scandal. Appallingly, clergy sex crimes against children are not new. But over the last 20-30 years, the increasing empowerment of victims, a more questioning public, the internet and the media have joined forces and exposed the widespread and criminally-concealed sex abuse problem within the church. Such courage and forbearance of victims and their families are finally holding the hierarchy accountable.</p>
<p>There are many thousands of good Catholics in Australia and the employment of 180,000 workers is a good thing. But if Rome and its extremely powerful, wealthy and ageing boys club (including Cardinal George Pell) want to be relevant in 2013 and beyond, they must match their power and authority with compassion, responsibility and accountability – both civic and moral. </p>
<p>They must also relinquish their questionable hold on power allowing the people, women and men equally, to be the church.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/15242/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Judy Courtin helped prepare a submission for a group of survivors in Ballarat and introduced the group to a hearing of the Victorian parliamentary committee into institutional responses to child sex abuse. This work was undertaken on a voluntary basis.</span></em></p>As a young girl in the 1960s, I attended a Catholic boarding school. The nuns could be scary. When they walked the wintry and un-illuminated corridors of the convent, their knee-length rosary beads jangled…Judy Courtin, PhD Student, Faculty of Law, Monash UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/115762013-01-13T23:48:44Z2013-01-13T23:48:44ZRoyal commission faces challenges but provides an opportunity for change<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/19167/original/kwzm5xrb-1358059721.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">The terms of reference announced by Julia Gillard could bring about cultural change around issues of institutional abuse.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">AAP/Stephanie Flack</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>The <a href="http://www.childabuseroyalcommission.gov.au/LettersPatent/Pages/default.aspx">terms of reference</a> of the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse have been prudently drawn, providing scope for both inquisitorial depth and transformative policy recommendations.</p>
<p>The commission must analyse both the history of institutional child sexual abuse, and complex issues of law and public policy arising in a complicated context of psychology, social science and realpolitik. It presents a unique opportunity to change institutional cultures, and to reform law, policy and practice.</p>
<p>The commission is important because it gives those who have experienced child sexual abuse a chance to be heard and believed. It is also important because survivors of abuse want to be assured that all reasonable steps are taken to prevent it happening again. state and territory inquiries have occurred or are ongoing, but this commission’s fuller investigative capacity and ability to make broad reform recommendations makes it particularly powerful. Yet, the commission faces many challenges.</p>
<h2>The power of the church</h2>
<p>The first problem is the realpolitik. Churches have enormous political power and have influenced both practical and legislative responses to child sexual abuse, not always for the better. The Catholic Church has blocked survivors’ lawsuits by relying on its lack of juridical status as a legal entity, as determined by a 2007 New South Wales Court of Appeal judgment. Other churches have also blocked these lawsuits.</p>
<p>State governments have also used legal technicalities to block survivors of abuse from access to courts.</p>
<p>Substantial conflicts of interest plainly exist. How will the commission deal with these?</p>
<h2>Running down the clock</h2>
<p>This raises the second issue. Laws in every state and territory create a time limit within which a claim for compensation should be brought.</p>
<p>The time limit does not operate automatically. The defendant has to choose to use it to block the plaintiff. Yet, in many child sexual abuse cases, this is what public and private institutions have done.</p>
<p>Where there is clear evidence of wrongdoing, it is unjust for a powerful defendant with immense resources to use these technicalities to defeat a survivor of child sexual abuse. This multiplies the abuse and adds to the damage suffered by survivors and their families.</p>
<p>Plaintiffs may seek an extension of time, but applications are costly, distressing, time-consuming, and often fail. Especially for governments, which should not rely on their power to defeat weaker parties through unfair use of technicalities, unjust blocking of claims must cease.</p>
<p>For good reasons, many survivors cannot bring a claim within the short period of time allowed. These laws have been cogently argued to be conceptually ill-suited to child sexual abuse cases. Most Canadian jurisdictions have abolished time limits for these cases. How will the commission approach these problems?</p>
<h2>Reporting abuse</h2>
<p>The third issue relates to another central component in the detection and response system. Mandatory reporting laws exist in each state and territory, requiring selected groups of people to report known or suspected cases of child sexual abuse.</p>
<p>The laws recognise that sexual abuse occurs in secret, is often extremely damaging, often continues for long periods, and is inflicted on vulnerable children who cannot protect themselves. There are differences between state laws, with some requiring a much broader range of people to report.</p>
<p>Research has shown the laws produce positive outcomes, but there are differences in how well prepared mandated reporters are to detect and report cases, and problems in compliance. Child protection systems are inadequately resourced, and insufficient services are provided to abused children.</p>
<p>What can the commission do to create legal and practical equality, heighten effective reporting, and optimise service provision to alleviate the impact of abuse?</p>
<h2>Compensation</h2>
<p>Fourth, the commission must make recommendations on the provision of redress by institutions. This will raise thorny questions, as several states have implemented redress schemes already, some churches have provided compensation, and redress schemes are complex mechanisms requiring sensitive mechanisms and sufficient funds.</p>
<p>However, meaningful redress is an essential component of appropriate institutional responses, and many jurisdictions have implemented them on a statutory basis.</p>
<p>While most people seeking redress are not motivated by financial gain - the primary desire is to be heard, believed, and to have responsible authorities take action to reduce abuse - those who experienced abuse will nearly always have suffered economically, in many cases in a profound and long-lasting way. Redress payments demonstrate genuine recognition of wrongdoing and loss, and facilitate medical treatment including counselling which many victims are unable to afford.</p>
<h2>A new environment</h2>
<p>The commission does not inquire directly into other forms of abuse, and only focuses on sexual abuse within institutions. These limits will not satisfy some people, and with some cause.</p>
<p>Yet the policy recommendations resulting from the inquiry have the capacity to produce groundbreaking progress in Australian social and legal policy in how we approach and respond to child sexual abuse, both within and beyond institutions.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/11576/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Ben Mathews does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>The terms of reference of the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse have been prudently drawn, providing scope for both inquisitorial depth and transformative policy recommendations…Ben Mathews, Health Law Research Centre in the School of Law , Queensland University of TechnologyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/115592013-01-13T19:38:37Z2013-01-13T19:38:37ZRoyal commission has the power to bring justice to victims of sexual abuse<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/19166/original/8wnv2x68-1358057730.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Prime minister Julia Gillard met with victims and their families at Kirribilli House on Saturday.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">AAP/Tracey Nearmy</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>The <a href="http://www.childabuseroyalcommission.gov.au/about/Pages/TermsofReference.aspx">terms of reference</a> for the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sex Abuse, as announced by the prime minister on Friday, certainly seem to tick all the right boxes if survivors and victims are to receive justice. The very broad ranging terms of reference and powers of the commission, which is to be headed by the Justice Peter McLellan, are capable of capturing and addressing the reasons the commission was called.</p>
<p>While interviewing victims of abuse and their families for my research, I asked them what they would require to attain justice. One emphatic and universal response was that the truth be told. This “truth”, forcibly pushed into retreat and suppressed for so long, now has the opportunity to be welcomed and validated. This first element of acquiring justice is imperative.</p>
<p>Another requisite element for justice is accountability. This is not only for the original sex crimes but also the subsequent crimes of concealment by the hierarchy of the Catholic Church and other organisations which enabled perpetrators to roam free and sexually assault or rape thousands of children.</p>
<p>Prosecutions of sex offenders and those guilty of concealment or cover-up, are made possible by the commission’s power to establish investigation units, which can gather evidence and prepare briefs for, and liaise with, the police. Although the commission itself cannot prosecute, the early establishment of these units means this important work in bringing about accountability can commence quite soon. This is unlike the Irish Ryan Commission where prosecutions were excluded from its remit.</p>
<p>The other issue underpinning the calls for a royal commission is the disturbingly high number of suicides and premature deaths of people who had been sexually assaulted by Catholic clergy and those in other organisations. In making its recommendations, the commission must have regard to “the experiences of people directly and indirectly affected by child sexual abuse and related matters” in institutions. This term of reference can unquestionably incorporate suicides and premature deaths, giving families and loved ones the opportunity to testify.</p>
<p>This is imperative for several reasons. These families deserve justice and an explanation. Also, the original investigations of these suicides by the coroner would have been fettered, and the findings skewed, in that the common thread of childhood sexual assault may not have been revealed, or even known by the family.</p>
<p>The commission also needs to determine the incidence of clergy abuse-related suicides and premature deaths in Australia. With 40-50 such suicides stemming from a five-year cohort of children in one Catholic primary school in regional Victoria, this issue calls for urgent attention.</p>
<p>The next vital issue to be addressed if victims and survivors are to receive justice, is that they have equal access to the laws relating to litigating or suing, especially organisations such as the Catholic Church. This would involve amending the <a href="http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/legis/act/consol_act/rccpta1937413/">Property Trust Acts</a> of the church and the Statute of Limitations legislation. This will not guarantee victims’ success, but at least they will have the option of going down that path. The commission itself does not have the power to make these legislative changes, but it is directed to have regard to these matters when writing its recommendations.</p>
<p>Another fundamental element for victims and survivors attaining justice is that these crimes don’t happen again. Future protection of other children is of paramount importance. The commission has no discretion in that it must have regard to any changes in laws, policies, practices and systems that will protect children in the future.</p>
<p>Finally, the elephant in the room is the issue of compensation. This prickly topic must be faced head on. Monetary compensation is non-negotiable for the victims and survivors of these hideous institutional crimes. Around 1000 to 2000 victims who have been through the Catholic Church’s internal complaints processes have received some compensation, many calling it silence money. The amounts received are paltry, insulting and far below what could be expected in a court of law. Most of these people have signed confidentiality agreements that also prohibit them from suing again.</p>
<p>The commission will have the necessary and far-reaching powers, if it thinks fit, to override these church confidentiality agreements. This is very important, as my research has found that <a href="http://www.cam.org.au/Melbourne-Response/Melbourne-Response.aspx">Melbourne Response</a> and <a href="http://www.catholic.org.au/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=1139&Itemid=190">Towards Healing</a> have overwhelmingly exploited these already vulnerable victims with many of them accepting below par compensation amounts.</p>
<p>The final success of this royal commission will necessarily depend not only on its recommendations, but the subsequent adoption of these recommendations by future governments.</p>
<p>Victims and families, despite decades of being cast aside by governments, the church and sometimes the police, have stoically maintained their courage, integrity and their truth. To date, they have won a great battle. Last week’s announcement by the prime minister was a testament to this ongoing victory.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/11559/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Judy Courtin does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>The terms of reference for the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sex Abuse, as announced by the prime minister on Friday, certainly seem to tick all the right boxes if survivors and…Judy Courtin, PhD Student, Faculty of Law, Monash UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/107002012-11-13T01:15:26Z2012-11-13T01:15:26ZRogue priests or a culture of abuse? Investigating paedophilia in the Catholic Church<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/17542/original/52s75btd-1352768413.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Evidence shows sexual abuse is more likely to occur in particular kinds of institutional cultures, such as the Catholic Church.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Roger Smith</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>For victims and their advocates, the Prime Minister’s <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/opinion/political-news/gillard-acts-on-sex-abuse-claims-20121112-298h1.html">announcement of a Royal Commission</a> into the role of institutions in the abuse of children represents a long-awaited shift in the way Australia approaches child sexual abuse. </p>
<p><a href="http://www.theaustralian.com.au/national-affairs/julia-gillard-considers-church-abuse-inquiry-calls/story-fn59niix-1226515020238">Politicians</a>, <a href="http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/priest-pleads-for-state-action-20121101-28mr1.html">church leaders</a> and <a href="http://www.theage.com.au/victoria/stop-stalling-call-on-church-sex-abuse-probe-20120309-1upwb.html">other public figures</a> are all vocal in their condemnation of child abuse. This has become a fig leaf for the trenchant neglect of the needs and rights of child abuse survivors. Survivors are routinely unable to access effective mental health care. They find their complaints trivialised by police, the justice system and the churches.</p>
<p>The announcement was sparked by explosive evidence that sexually abusive Catholic priests have been <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/lateline/content/2012/s3629020.htm">concentrated in particular diocese</a> such as Ballarat and the Hunter Valley. Investigations appear to have been stymied by both the church and the police. </p>
<p>The term “paedophile priests” has become <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/lateline/content/2012/s3629020.htm">common in media commentary</a>. This suggests that the origins of clergy abuse lies with mentally disordered offenders who use their authority as clergy to molest children and avoid detection or prosecution. Sexual abusers can be highly motivated to abuse children and select their occupation accordingly. But it is too simple to blame institutional sexual abuse on a small number of prolific offenders.</p>
<p>Research shows that sexual abuse is more likely to occur in (and be ignored by) particular kinds of institutional cultures. In particular, male-dominated organisations that lack oversight and accountability can harbour a “barrack-yard” culture that promotes physical and sexual abuse. As Marie Keenan indicates in her 2012 book <a href="http://www.oxfordscholarship.com/view/10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199895670.001.0001/acprof-9780199895670">Child Sexual Abuse and the Catholic Church</a>, organisational culture is a key reason the Catholic Church has a problem with the sexual abuse of children. The general mindset and power structure of the Church is feudal in origin and nature. Figures of authority are entitled to expect absolute deference from subordinates. Men have divinely sanctioned authority over women and children. There is little, if any, real interest in democratic decision-making.</p>
<p>By any measure, this creates a situation ripe for the development of cultures of abuse. In this environment, one or two charismatic perpetrators can draw adults and children within institutions into overlooking, colluding or perpetrating in the abuse. This can result in the development of clandestine networks of abusers within and across institutions and organisations that uphold the culture of sexual abuse. Hence sexual abusers can be incubated within institutions. A Royal Commission focused solely on identifying and hounding out “paedophiles” cannot fulfil the brief of protecting children and providing justice to victims. It must also address the institutional factors that promote sexual abuse.</p>
<p>It has been common for institutional authorities to silence children who complain of abuse, while protecting abusers. This becomes more complex in the case of clergy abuse. The religious affiliations of police, politicians and authority figures may draw them into the efforts of a church to suppress allegations. Some critics have described this pattern of institutional cover-up as evidence of “organised paedophilia”. The line between complicity and conspiracy is uncertain. Institutional sexual abuse may occur due <em>disorganised</em> rather than organised abuse: a lack of basic safeguards, protections or care that leave children vulnerable to repetitive sexual abuse.</p>
<p>But we cannot dismiss allegations of organised abuse and cover-ups out of hand. It is clear that institutions can harbour sexually abusive cultures and groups without detection. The report of the <a href="http://www.sa.gov.au/subject/Crime,+justice+and+the+law/Mullighan+Inquiry/Children+in+State+Care">South Australian Mullighan Inquiry into children in state care</a> was published in 2008. In the report, former state wards provided detailed accounts of groups of staff sexually abusing children in institutions and taking them to what Commissioner Mullighan described as “paedophile parties”. Priests, nuns and care staff were implicated. Like so many other inquiries of this nature, the report hinted at a degree of sexual abuse that has not received full public recognition.</p>
<p>It is rare that I agree with Fred Nile. However, he had a point when he suggested that the narrow terms of reference of the proposed NSW inquiry into alleged police protection of clergy abusers is <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/national/nile-claims-major-parties-nervous-of-abuse-inquiry-20121112-297y9.html">the result of political “nervousness”</a>. Allegations of institutional sexual abuse often implicate, in various ways, three of the most powerful organisations in society - political parties, the churches and police – while aggravating many others. </p>
<p>To put it bluntly, institutional sexual abuse is a political <a href="http://www.theaustralian.com.au/national-affairs/david-hill-says-the-commission-will-open-a-hornets-nest/story-fn59niix-1226515434728">hornets’ nest</a>. Julia Gillard should be congratulated for moving beyond the entrenched resistance to addressing the issue openly and transparently. </p>
<p>But the issues facing the proposed Royal Commission go beyond the challenge of screening for paedophilia and encouraging institutional responsiveness to sexual abuse. There are cultural problems within the church and other institutions, and indeed within the community more generally, that are linked to the abuse of children and need real, practical policy solutions.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/10700/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Michael Salter does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>For victims and their advocates, the Prime Minister’s announcement of a Royal Commission into the role of institutions in the abuse of children represents a long-awaited shift in the way Australia approaches…Michael Salter, Lecturer in Criminology, Western Sydney UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/94732012-09-11T04:35:07Z2012-09-11T04:35:07ZNew revelations of church abuse must bring justice for victims<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/15310/original/jsympr96-1347324112.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C500%2C2529%2C1512&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">The church must be held to account.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">just.Luc</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>As the Victorian Parliamentary Inquiry into child abuse looms, Archbishop Denis Hart and three of his bishops <a href="http://au.news.yahoo.com/latest/a/-/article/14606936/catholics-warned-ahead-of-disturbing-abuse-cases/">have forewarned</a> their Victorian flock of imminent disturbing reports about past failures of the Catholic church in responding to clergy sexual abuse.</p>
<p>His Grace and their Excellencies need to be brought up to date with the <a href="http://www.theage.com.au/national/they-survived-clergy-abuse-but-are-still-paying-a-price-20120910-25oi1.html#ixzz266vyxmE7">latest evidence from my research</a> which shows that the “failures” of the church to respond to sexual assaults do not attract the past tense alone – they remain palpably current.</p>
<p>There has been an equally inadequate response by the Catholic church to the brutal physical assaults on children, which continue to be a source of distress for victims to this day.</p>
<h2>Horrifying testimony</h2>
<p>A few weeks ago in Ballarat, eight men gathered to get help with writing a group submission to the Victorian Inquiry. The issue of physical assaults was aired and it was distressing.</p>
<p>One man said:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>He used to push my head down the toilet and hold it there by force until the toilet finished flushing.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The others nodded their heads in acknowledgement of this example of brutal physical assaults by Christian Brothers at St Alipius primary school in the 1970s and 1980s.</p>
<p>Another man revealed:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I had the bones around my eye and jaw fractured when I was beaten on the face and head by a ball-peen hammer. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>Once again there was group recognition of this brutal attack by, or <em>modus operandi</em> of, the particular Christian Brother.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I recall being terrified when I was locked up in this very small storage room, more like a cupboard, and just left there.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>One man, with a hearing disability, was strapped regularly on the buttocks, never knowing what he had done to deserve this torture. When this same 9-year-old boy was eventually anally raped by a Christian Brother, he assumed it was a more serious form of punishment, was terrified and thought he was going to die. When he complained about the rape to another Brother, he was repeatedly and viciously beaten until he complied and said that nothing had happened to him.</p>
<p>Another man recalled:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>When I protested by pushing his hand off my genitals, he proceeded to march me to the back of the classroom saying to me ‘How dare you lay a hand on me’. I was then brutally beaten.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Another victim at the meeting said he was put into a mental asylum for two weeks because he told other clergy about the sex crimes and had physically fought off the offending Christian Brother.</p>
<p>There were many other forms of physical assaults including repeated bashing, whipping, kicking and punching. All victims described much of this treatment as torture. The mental anguish remains to this day.</p>
<h2>A culture of fear</h2>
<p>It is little wonder these men find it very traumatic and stressful trying to put a complex submission together. A further 20 or so men who, because of those past traumas, could not even make it to the meeting, want to be part of this group submission – they want to be able to tell their truth.</p>
<p>It seems the sex abuse was but one element of a school environment and culture that formed an amalgam of physical assault, torture, sexual assault and rape, all accompanied by constant fear, terror, confusion and bewilderment.</p>
<p>But where do the physical and sexual assaults begin and end? Were the physical assaults an insidious precursor to the sexual assaults? One man at this meeting told of being bashed and reduced to tears, comforted and then raped. Sadly, this was a recurring sequence of events. The Parliamentary Committee needs this information.</p>
<h2>Working with what we have</h2>
<p>The terms of reference for this inquiry are silent on the matter of suicides and premature deaths. Family members and friends of someone with a history of clergy sex crimes and who has died prematurely, can lodge a submission.</p>
<p>With an extended closing date of 21 September for submissions, there is still time for people to tell their story – to tell the truth.</p>
<p>Guidelines from the committee clearly indicate any interested party can make a submission and there is an array of issues about which to inform the committee from whether victims were in any way discouraged from reporting and, if such abuse were reported, how such reporting was handled, and, importantly, the consequences of abuse, including the effect on the victims and others.</p>
<p>All we have at the moment is this Parliamentary Inquiry. We need to work with it. Despite its many limitations, the community must inform the inquiry of the vast breadth and severity of the decades of sex crimes, devastating suicides and premature deaths, the ongoing concealment and cover-up by the church and the physical assaults.</p>
<p>This inquiry is the first step.</p>
<p>The second step must be an uncompromising, independent and legally and forensically sound Royal Commission.</p>
<p>Those revealing cracks in the church’s marble façade are now well beyond repair.</p>
<p>Justice must be attained.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/9473/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Judy Courtin does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>As the Victorian Parliamentary Inquiry into child abuse looms, Archbishop Denis Hart and three of his bishops have forewarned their Victorian flock of imminent disturbing reports about past failures of…Judy Courtin, PhD Student, Faculty of Law, Monash UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.