Are the Catholic bishops being prevented from knowing the full truth about the extent and effects of clerical child sex abuse? Most probably, suggests Patsy McGarry
Somehow, some way the carapace of deference that surrounds our Catholic bishops must be removed if the church's clerical child sex abuse crisis is ever to be addressed adequately by them. A Catholic bishop is an exotic creature. Living in a "Palace" or "House", he is master of all he surveys, answerable only to Rome, and all he touches is in thrall to his absolute power which in lesser hands would corrupt absolutely. And with no wife or family to remind him that he is no hero in the home.
It is still the case that, when it comes to unpleasant truths, the bishops are fed them by priests and laity who remain restrained by awe and, in cases, by ambition to stay in favour, believing that the bearer of bad news soon becomes associated with it.
In the media we know all about the latter, not least where bishops are concerned. "They do not like us, Dr Fell", if I might borrow from the title of one of Bernard Farrell's best plays. Then, as I remind myself regularly, we in the media are not in the business of being popular. Personally, it has come as something of a revelation over the years to realise that being disliked is not such an unpleasant experience at all.
It is hardly necessary to explain why the media are not liked by the bishops. We have been a relentless harbinger of bad news for over a decade and show little sign of easing off. For our part we would say that, while trying to comfort the afflicted victims of clerical abuse, we are afflicting the comfortable structures which allowed it continue down all the dark days of burgled childhoods.
But there is suspicion that we do this with just too much relish, and the bishops have reacted in an absolute way to the slings and arrows following outrageous revelations. They have chosen not to talk to us at all.
At that last Maynooth press conference on distant April 8th, 2002, Cardinal Connell referred to us as "you people", for which he apologised later, but it was indicative of the bishops' mood. The press conference took place following the BBC Suing the Pope programme and the resignation of Bishop Brendan Comiskey.
"Pack" indeed would be an accurate description of the media group which confronted, with anything but deference, the four bishops sent out to bat that day, Archbishop Seán Brady, Cardinal Connell, Bishop Joe Duffy of Clogher and Bishop Bill Murphy of Kerry.
They were not questioned so much as interrogated and in the case of some reporters as though the word "deference" had to do with loss of hearing.
The bishops did not like it one bit. No one had ever dared question them like that before, or use such tone in their presence. So thereafter they abandoned even the practice of sending out a token colleague or two to meet the media to discuss a token topic or two of the bishops' own chosing following their quarterly meetings at Maynooth.
No great loss, but if we meet at all now it is by accident and with teeth metaphorically bared. Usually theirs.
Such thoughts are provoked by a question put to Dublin's Coadjutor Archbishop Diarmuid Martin recently on whether the bishops' reporting system to Rome had failed on the abuse issue. He felt it had. With no disrespect, more likely it had not as, due to deference, the bishops are not told the full truth in the first place. Because no one tells the full truth to a bishop.
Which is why I believe both conflicting accounts of the visit by Bishop Thomas Flynn of Achonry and Canon John Doherty to the Shannon family at Cloonloo, Co Sligo, last November to discuss Brendan Shannon's abuse in 1982 by a Kiltegan priest. In a recent settlement with the order he received €325,000.
As reported in this paper last week Eamonn Shannon said "tensions were extremely high" at the meeting. Canon Doherty recalled it as "extremely cordial." Bishop Flynn was perplexed that it could be described as tense at all.
Mrs Eilísh Shannon explained that hers were quiet-spoken people. No voice was raised, no harsh word spoken. She was, she said, from an era when people kissed a bishop's ring. It seems the Shannons behaved with such consummate courtesy that neither the bishop nor the canon saw the great anger beneath. So they were taken aback when it emerged last week.
And maybe deference played a part in my own decision to stand aside from that story, though in some quarters they will take convincing.
As children in 1960s Ballaghaderreen we saluted priests and Brothers. I remember with affection Bishop Flynn trying to teach me Greek at St Nathy's College there, and the diocese's (clerical sex abuse) delegate, Father Greg Hannan, who taught me French. The late Father Charlie Doherty, who was curate in Cloonloo when the abusing priest arrived there, was president of Nathy's in my time. I remember Canon Doherty as ADM in Ballaghaderreen.
And I have heard only good things about Mrs Shannon. Three generations of women in my family attended her teaching retirement party. In itself no great wonder, as the women in my family are usually found wherever two or three are gathered in celebration - but rarely all three generations.
In early August I heard about the settlement Brendan secured but was told the family wanted no publicity. They changed their minds. The paper was contacted, and I decided to stand aside knowing so many parties involved and let colleague Liam Reid deal with it.
I was proud of my decision, as "the right thing to do". Then, through circumstance, it landed back in my lap. I ended up questioning the living among the above, including Bishop Flynn. Omega had come to quiz Alpha. He does not like us, Dr Fell.
Patsy McGarry is The Irish Times Religious Affairs Correspondent