Welby’s name is forever tarnished by abuse scandal – but forcing him to quit now would leave the Church in a mess

Eighteen months ago, Justin Welby was in his pomp, taking centre-stage at the Coronation to crown the King. It was the moment when church and state came together – and he was the first Archbishop of Canterbury to enact such a ceremony in 70 years, something his immediate five predecessors in the role as leader of the Church of England had never done.

That, you might think, was his place in history assured. But now he may well be remembered for something else: that thousands of people, including some of his own clergy, are demanding that he quits.

Their anger is palpable. Publication of the Makin Report, a 251 page devastating indictment of how abuser John Smyth was able to savagely attack hundreds of boys over the course of 40 years, highlights Welby’s connection to this devastating tale of innocence betrayed – not least by the church people who covered up his assaults for the sake of the institution. The report found that church authorities failed to stop Smyth, a Christian barrister who beat at least 130 boys.

Welby’s link was two-fold. First was his actual connection with Smyth. Both were evangelical Christians and Welby was a dormitory officer at a camp for public school pupils run by the Iwerne Trust, of which Smyth was a senior member. But Welby was then in his early 20s when he was helping at the camps and said he had no idea of anything untoward.

Then, in 2013, soon after his appointment as Archbishop of Canterbury, he was informed of the Smyth case and told that complaints had been reported to the police.

But no referral had actually been made. Instead, the Makin Report says, Welby and other senior church figures showed “a distinct lack of curiosity” and “a tendency towards minimisation of the matter”. As the report points out, if Smyth had been reported to the police at that time – and by then he was in South Africa, where he also abused children ­­– then there could have been a full investigation, uncovering his crimes. Later victims would have been saved. Smyth died in 2018 and was never brought to justice.

Welby has apologised for what happened and indicated that he considered resigning but decided not to do so. The majority of people did not know the depth and scale of Smyth’s abuse until very recently and there is no sense that Welby conspired to hide it. He cannot be held to account for what every diocese of the Church of England, never mind the Anglican Communion’s member churches in Africa, does or doesn’t do. He doesn’t run them.

This call for resignation is about much more than the issue of a vile abuser and how Welby dealt with – or failed to deal with – him. It’s about the politics of the Church of England itself. The three priests who began this petition calling for Welby to step down are unlikely allies, but they all have agendas that dominate current debate in the Church of England. 

Evangelical Ian Paul has been sharply critical of Welby on same-sex marriage. Marcus Walker is a leader of the Save the Parish group, which has damned Welby for his lack of interest in the future well-being of Anglican parishes. And Robert Thompson has regularly spoken out about safeguarding. Others speaking out have their own agendas.

If there is any good reason for Welby to go, it is because it would symbolise the penitence of not just the man, but the institution owning up to its failures. Just as his crowning of the King represented the place of the Church of England at the heart of public life, so his departure would suggest a church that recognises the wrong done to children it should have cared for. It would say enough is enough. We have to start again.

But what then? The Church of England would be leaderless, the attempt to replace Welby would be rushed. He is due to retire in the next 12 months anyway. Better to stay on, even with an inevitably tarnished reputation – and enable the search for his successor to be a considered one.

There would be time then to think hard both about individuals and the actual role of the Archbishop of Canterbury, which, in an increasingly secularised world – and in a church riven increasingly by culture wars and too often focused on finance – has become a poisoned chalice.

The man or woman at the helm of a 21st century established church might take as their motto the words the King said – apparently at the instigation of Welby – at his Coronation about following Christ: “In his name and after his example I come not to be served but to serve”.

It’s that simple – but it’s all too often made supremely complicated.