Why has the Archbishop of Canterbury had to resign?

For an Anglican primate to stand down in these circumstances is unprecedented, writes Sean O’Grady, as he examines what led to the widespread calls for Justin Welby to go

The Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, has resigned over allegations – some of which he has accepted – that he failed to act against a prolific and sadistic paedophile, John Smyth, who had been associated with the Church of England for decades. A number of Welby’s more senior colleagues had openly called for him to stand down, while others remained silent, and the general unease had become deafening.

A petition to remove him from his post – though strictly, he probably had absolute security of tenure – attracted more than 10,000 signatures. For an Anglican primate to quit in such circumstances is unprecedented – but also, it seems, inevitable...

What’s it all about?

The John Smyth scandal is an extremely distressing and complicated one, but as far as Welby is concerned, the matter turns on two points identified in an independent report by Keith Makin, published last week.

Makin is a former director of Social Services, was the chief executive of an independent childcare company, and has much experience in abuse inquiries. He concludes that Smyth, who died in 2018 aged 77, had clearly been perpetrating abuse across England and in Africa, at schools and Christian camps, from 1978 until around the 2000s. By the 2010s at the latest, the Church knew all about his activities, and he was named by Channel 4 in 2017.

The first issue that caused concern is that Welby knew Smyth long ago, before he became archbishop, but did nothing about him. Welby had been aware of Smyth when he volunteered at Christian holiday camps in Dorset, for example: “As I recall him, he was a charming, delightful, very clever, brilliant speaker. I wasn’t a close friend of his, I wasn’t in his inner circle or in the inner circle of the leadership of the camp, far from it.”

Welby says he had no idea about Smyth’s activities, though there seems to have been a lot of gossip about him at the time. The Makin report says it is “unlikely” that Welby didn’t know what was happening.

Second, in 2013, as Anglican primate, Welby was formally told of the true enormity of Smyth’s crimes, including one possible case in which a juvenile male had died, but didn’t do enough to follow up the revelations then, and did not go to the police. In his resignation letter, Welby himself says: “When I was informed in 2013 and told that police had been notified, I believed wrongly that an appropriate resolution would follow. It is very clear that I must take personal and institutional responsibility for the long and retraumatising period between 2013 and 2024.”

What was Welby’s sin?

Hypocrisy. In many similar abuse scandals over the past decade, notably the Jimmy Savile case, Welby has been outspoken in condemning the safeguarding failures of leaders in other organisations, and their reluctance to quit in the face of comparably shameful episodes. Until the independent review came out, Welby was unwilling to apply those same standards to his own position.

What about the rest of his record?

Controversial. He’s been criticised for closing churches for worship during the pandemic, as well as closing thousands of others that have been deconsecrated for good. The clergy are unhappy with their pay and conditions, and the global Anglican community is deeply divided on issues such as the role of women and LGBT+ rights.

It’s fair to point out that, while any archbishop has a duty to lead and the opportunity to militate for change, they have very little actual executive power, such as a head of government or a chief executive possesses. But if you cannot lead by example, then, as Welby has discovered, your position is untenable. In that sense, the job is “political”, and its incumbent comes under the same sorts of pressure as any party politician or leading businessperson.

As it happens, Welby has also been “political” in a wider sense, addressing the TUC conference, criticising big business, and, most controversially, condemning the last government’s Rwanda plan.

How can an archbishop resign?

For about three centuries after the restoration of the established Church following the English civil war, archbishops of Canterbury remained in office until death, like popes or monarchs. In the 20th century it became normal for them to retire instead, by permission of the governor of the Church of England (the reigning king or queen). None have been executed since 1645, when Oliver Cromwell condemned Archbishop Laud to death for his opposition to parliamentary rule.

What next?

Welby intended to resign anyway in 2026, and the Crown Nominations Commission – senior Church people – will now speed up the process of suggesting a successor, for the prime minister to, in effect, pass on to the King.