Tuesday, September 11, 2018

Catholic Whistleblowing (or Not) (Part 2)


Catholic Whistleblowing (or Not) (Part 2)

Like many whistleblowers, Archbishop Carlo Maria Viganò is a complicated figure.  In his August 22, 2018 letter he called one of the most admired people in the world, Pope Francis, complicit in concealing for years sexual abuses by one of the Church’s vilest characters, Cardinal Theodore McCarrick.  Viganò also continued his screed against tolerance for homosexuality by and in the Church.  That acceptance caused the scandal, he said, not clericalism, as Francis argued.

Responses to Viganò echo those HomeFirst Services of Santa Clara made against me when I alleged it violated laws.  They recall what is said of most whistleblowers.  The boss, Francis, blew off his charges.  They were beneath comment.  Viganò’s allegations were unsubstantiated and designed to undermine Francis’ authority.  He’s not a good-faith whistleblower, critics say.  He plays to the conservative wing of the Church that fights Francis’ policies.  Viganò is impure himself.  He tried to suppress a 2014 investigation into homosexual activity by a Minnesota archbishop who was later accused of covering up abuses.  He has a history of dishonesty.  What’s more, Viganò is a disgruntled employee: Francis kicked him out of the U.S. ambassador job for poor performance.

Like any whistleblower, Viganò is flawed.  He is a bit repellent even if he is right to make his allegations.

More offensive, and less understandable to a whistleblower, are the thousands of priests who knew about sexual abuses in their ranks and did nothing.  Or maybe they raised questions discretely and let them drop.  Either way, they allowed heinous behavior to continue. 

The recent Pennsylvania grand jury report made clear that many did know.  It described expansive procedures the Church used in 6 Pennsylvania dioceses to conceal abuse by hundreds of priests.  It documented what many long suspected. 

The priest who first blew a whistle on McCarrick twenty years ago believes his abuse was known by many in the seminary that McCarrick headed.  Nothing was done at the time.  McCarrick’s behavior was commonly known for years after, he claims.  Instead of punishing the abuser, they raised him to cardinal.

Unlike most whistleblowers, priests can’t lose their jobs for objecting.  They can be ostracized, though, and relegated to less appealing jobs.  That can be painful in an organization so fundamentally social.

For the same reason, parishioners rarely stand up to object.  Naka Nathaniel told how he confronted his parish priest.  During his homily the priest said the Church must change, and then he moved on to other things.  Nathaniel rose beside his 9-year-old son and demanded to hear how it would change.  We don’t know what price he will pay for creating a fuss.

In May I emailed the pastor of our Palo Alto parish about a homily by one of his priests.  The guy had announced he was the “word of God” at church, teachers were the word of God at school, and parents were the word of God at home.  I observed that predator priests say such things on their way to abusing children.  My pastor said he’d correct the priest, but I later learned he dropped the matter.

After the Pennsylvania news, our local bishop Patrick McGrath sent out a letter.  With other bishops, he asked for forgiveness for the abuse and cover-ups.  He asked everyone to pray for the victims.  Pretty lame, I thought.

Before a recent Mass celebrated by the “word of God” priest, it seemed to me he was just a little too friendly with a young boy.  Especially in light of what happened in Pennsylvania.  I emailed our new pastor, Fr. Stasys, about it, and we chatted after Mass on the next Sunday.  He was attentive and concerned.  He would discuss boundaries with the parish priests.

Then came Viganò’s revelations.  I anticipated another letter from Bishop McGrath.  What came was a description of all the good things the diocese has done to protect minors.  It was mostly what the bishops had agreed to do in 1994.  Nothing about people who were silently complicit in the abuses and protected abusers.  Nothing about the Pope’s missing defense against the allegations by Viganò.

Responding to my email, Fr. Stasys said he can only do his best to protect the people in our parish.  On Sunday a different priest did not address the issue directly.  Instead he advised us to focus on faith, humility, and obedience.  If we ask too many questions and don’t accept the answers, we lack faith, he warned.  The next day Pope Francis said something similar.  He recommended prayer and silence to combat scandal.

It does seem true that the Church has done a lot to stop abuse from happening.  Here in California, priests and many other Church employees are State-mandated reporters.  There is oversight and training.  Reports of abuse seem to relate mostly to acts from years ago although victims of more recent attacks may still come forward.  On the other hand, Church lawyers still work to block victims’ lawsuits by protecting statutes of limitations on reports of abuse.

If the Church deals honestly with its concealment of past sexual abuses, it may graduate to a more normally corrupt organization.  Then we’ll see just the usual financial mischief. 

But as long as the Church encourages silence and sees its sexual abuse scandal as an aberration in an essentially innocent organization[1], rather than part of a corrupt culture, whistleblowers may not emerge to disclose wrongs until they are too big for anyone to ignore.


[1] Cf. Snyder, Timothy.  The Road to Unfreedom: Russia, Europe, America. New York: Tim Duggan Books.  2018

Tuesday, September 4, 2018

Catholic Whistleblowing (or Not) (Part 1)


Catholic Whistleblowing (or Not) (Part 1)

When wrongdoing is widespread – as it was at Enron, as it seems to be at much-sinning Wells Fargo Bank and the Catholic Church – you look for a whistleblower to step forward.  When he appears, he may not be the person you hoped for.

The Catholic Church’s sex abuse scandal first came to light in 1985.  A priest in Louisiana Gilbert Gauthe admitted sexually abusing 37 young boys, and some believed he abused as many as 70.  Gauthe was moved from parish to parish as his proclivities became evident.  Finally he was jailed.  Partly in response, two priests and an attorney, all familiar with Gauthe, presented to influential Catholic bishops a Manual for dealing with the expected future sexual molestations by Catholic clergy.

Gauthe’s case contained elements of the story that would play out repeatedly in the following decades.  First, the offending priest is presented as a bad apple, an unfortunate pervert.  Second, the priest’s protectors and enablers assert their own innocence.  They thought the priest could be reformed through prayer and therapy.  The third element is resolution.   Infrequently it included jail time for the offenders.  More often there were settlements, which usually included nondisclosure conditions, and prayers.  Always there are prayers for victims and their families and friends.  It’s the healing of the victims that is paramount, the Church insists.

The abuses continued.  Some priests were found guilty of hurting more than 100 young boys[1] over years of activity.  The bishops came up with Restoring Trust in 1994.  It suggested policies that would reappear in later documents.  They included education, employee screening, oversight, reporting as long as the confidentiality of the confessional is honored, and treatment of abusers.

The problem didn’t stop.  The Boston Globe published its 2002 investigation of abuses and concealment in Boston.  So the bishops tried again with the "Charter for the Protection of Children and Young People".  The Charter stuck to the Church’s focus on the abusers and their victims.  It also sounded a new note: the bishops acknowledged their obligation to protect children and young people.  They apologized for their mistakes.  They declared a page had been turned and the Church was newly alert to the problem.

The U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops engaged The John Jay College of Criminal Justice to study the problem.  Its 2004 report praised the Church’s conscientious and good faith cooperation in providing information.  More than 10,000 individuals made allegations of sexual abuse to the researchers, who admitted that many years often pass before the abused are able to acknowledge what happened.  It was probably worse than they found.

The report calculated 4% of active priests – more than 4,000 – in 1950-2002 were accused of committing acts of abuse.  But only about 1,000 of those priests were reported to the police, leading to just 100 serving jail time.  Of the priests 149 abused more than 10 victims each.  And it might have been worse.

Still more abuses surfaced.  In 2008 Pope Benedict said he was ashamed of the U.S. scandal.  He wanted to heal the wound.  A couple of years later it came out that he concealed sexual abusers when he was archbishop in Munich.

The Church settled more cases.  It paid $660 million in Los Angeles, $166 million in Oregon, $210 million in Minneapolis-St. Paul, and on and on.  It has paid out nearly $4 billion so far[2].  Priests have been accused of abuse in every state and in more than 93% of U.S. dioceses.

In 2014 Pope Francis established Pontifical Commission for the Protection of Minors.   It aimed to advise the Pope how to make sure these abuses don’t happen in the future.

In August 2018 a Pennsylvania Grand Jury issued the results of its investigation into child sexual abuse by priests and related cover-ups over a period of 70 years.  The information had been concealed from the John Jay College and other investigators.  Pope Francis again acknowledged the suffering of the abused and affirmed his commitment to protect minors and vulnerable adults.  Clericalism – the placing of priests above all others – is the cultural basis for both abuse and its concealment, he said.

Allegations of wrongdoing have come generally from the victims themselves.  They are expressed through attorneys or journalists or survivor groups.  They have not come from whistleblowers until Archbishop Carlo Maria Viganò wrote his letter in August 2018.  In it he claimed Pope Francis and many other high-ranking Church officials concealed decades of sexual abuses by Cardinal Theodore McCarrick.

In light of the pervasiveness of abuse in the Church over decades, the dearth of priest-whistleblowers is striking.  Priests know each other very well.  For years, they study together in small seminary classes, forming bonds that last lifetimes.  They spend their careers living next to one another in small rectories.  Each works in a limited number of dioceses or regions for decades.  They attend classes, conferences, and retreats together.  They regularly hear each other’s confessions.  They are separated from the rest of the world by their special belief that they can turn bread and wine into the body and blood of Jesus.  And by their peculiar vow to be celibate.

It makes no sense to suppose that only the abusers – just 4% of the community – plus the bishops who shuffled them around, knew about their wrongdoing.   It is more likely that the number of priests and lay employees of the Church who were aware – or had good suspicions – of what was going on was far greater than the number of actual abusers.  But these many thousands of silent observers produced no significant external whistleblowers until Viganò stepped forward.


[1] For example, James Porter and James Geoghan
[2] But that is still less than the $10 billion authors of the Manual guessed in 1985.