Geoffrey Roberston’s book is both compelling and shocking. I finished reading it about a fortnight ago, but because the content was so disturbing and complex, it has taken me some time to let the material settle and for me to be able to begin to write about it.

Terry Eagleton’s review in The Guardian best summed it up for me: “Devastating … a book that combines moral passion with steely forensic precision, enlivened with the odd flash of dry wit. With admirable judiciousness, it even finds it in its heart to praise the charitable work of the Catholic church, as well as reminding us that paedophiles (whom Robertson has defended in court) can be kindly men. It is one of the most formidable demolition jobs one could imagine on a man who has done more to discredit the cause of religion than Rasputin and Pat Robertson put together.”

The book argues the case that the Pope is culpable for his involvement in not dealing effectively with the child abuse scandal in the Roman Catholic Church when he was in charge of internal church discipline, and considers the case for indicting him for crimes against humanity in the international criminal court. Although Robertson acknowledges that this is extremely unlikely ever to happen, he marshalls the mountain of evidence against him, and argues with passion and persuasion as to why it should. I was dreading a dry, legal book, but this is far from that.

Three things emerge with unmistakable clarity:

1. Tens of thousands of children, perhaps as many as one hundred thousand, have been abused by employees of the Catholic church.
2. Thousands of priest have been involved in the abuse, and Joseph Ratzinger knew of the scale.
3. The key problem, which enabled the abuse to thrive, and which still has not been adequately addressed, is the Roman Catholic Church’s insistence that it deals with matters according to Church Canon Law, rather than the law of the land.

Let me try to expand on this last point because I feel that it is so important and not grasped by many people.  The public see some attempts at apology by the Vatican and assurances that things are no longer as they were.  Most will feel relieved by this.  However, what many seem to fail to appreciate that beliefs which allowed the sexual abuse to become endemic, are still in place.

At the core of the issue is a battle about authority.  The Roman Catholic church is wanting to act as if, in certain matters, it is above the law.  Instead of reporting abusing priests to the criminal authorities, it has moved them on to other parishes, or countries, or even to the protection of the so-called “sovereign state” of the Vatican itself.  In many cases these priests went on to abuse other children before being moved yet again.  Instead of being punished for their crimes they were given penance and told to pray more.  Nothing was done to stop them abusing.  Nothing was done to make them accountable to society.  Everything was done to protect them, to protect the church’s reputation, and to ensure that they were likely to continue to abuse.  And there is still a culture within the Roman Catholic Church at large that Canon Law takes precedence over state law, and a reluctance to acknowledge the right of the authorities to know and to prosecute.  The church is fighting to hold onto its accountability only to god and not to man.

As well as battling over authority, it would seem that there are two other problematic issues at the core.  First, it would seem that an institution run largely by ageing single men is struggling to fully comprehend the devastating, long-term psychological effects of sexual abuse on children.  It can shred self-esteem, rack with guilt, and lead to lifelong internal battles.  There is still a feeling that many in the church leadership seem dismissive of this.  Secondly, there is a profound confusion about forgiveness.  The church fails to understand that spiritual forgiveness does not remove the necessity for legal accountability.  It is perfectly possible for the church to forgive offending priests, and at the same time allow the full process of the law to take place.  Forgiveness does not remove the necessity for justice.

This book left me feeling very angry, not just about the scale of the abuse within the church, but about the fact that so much of it could have been prevented  if responsible people had acted so differently.  And it leaves me angry about the arrogance of an institution which still sees itself as above the law, and which society seems to tolerate.  What other institution could get away with allowing (even facilitating) thousands of its employees to abuse tens of thousands of children without having severe sanctions against it and demand for major reform?  What other national leader would be allowed to preside over the international movement of criminals (responsible for systematic rape) in order to avoid justice?  This books convincingly shows that the emperor is definitely naked.