The John Smyth scandal is a classic tale of journalism
Opinion
Cathy Newman and her team’s dogged investigation finally brought a sense of justice for many, leading to the resignation of the Archbishop of Canterbury, with potentially further repercussions.
In most great public scandals, there is often a single journalist (or small team) at the core of the story who has been beavering away for years while most either ignored the issue or dipped in and out.
It was true of the postmasters scandal and persistence paid off on reporting the tragedy of those killed by infected blood products.
Certainly, it is true of the scandal of the barbaric beatings imposed on boys by the late barrister John Smyth QC that led to the resignation of Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby — an event unprecedented in modern times.
It was journalism that finally brought a sense of justice for more than 100 of the abused, even though Smyth was never brought to account because he died in 2018.
And it was a triumph for Channel 4 and one of its leading presenters, Cathy Newman, with the help of documentary-maker Tom Stone and investigative journalists Guy Basnett and Job Rabkin.
Classic journalism
From the start, it was a classic tale of journalism. There was the note out of the blue from an informant that was nearly overlooked, followed by a meeting in a café and allegations that many church figures had known about the activities of Smyth.
Instead of doing something about him, Smyth was shipped off first to Zimbabwe and later South Africa, with tragic consequences.
Newman told The Sunday Times how, in 2017, after a six-month investigation, she managed to at least confront Smyth with the allegations.
Rabkin found out Smyth was visiting England and, in a classic doorstep, Newman and cameraman Simon Vacher confronted him as he left the Bristol apartment block where he was staying.
In a classic piece of TV, Newman asked Smyth: “We’re told you beat young men until they bled — why did you do that?”
There were interviews with victims and later interviews with Welby in which he moved from a position that he had been initially unaware of the problem to an admission that he had been alerted about the abuse in 2013.
In the final interview, the archbishop revealed that he had considered resigning but had decided not to — something that infuriated many of Smyth’s victims and opened the media floodgates.
Huge consequences
For a journalist, the great thing about getting your teeth into a story is that the more you find out, the more that is revealed to you and the more that is then leaked to you. It becomes your story.
The seven-year investigation for the church by Keith Makin found that Welby had indeed had a “level of knowledge that John Smyth was of some concern” as long ago as the 1980s.
Naturally, someone leaked a copy of the devastating 251-page report to Newman. Such leaks are important because they lead to early, sometimes even premature, publication — before defences can be constructed and circumlocutions prepared.
Now, apart from how many television gongs Newman and her team will win, the only question is: how many other bishops and church authorities will have to follow Welby?
The story has been of such import that it has led to renewed questions over whether the Church of England should remain the established church, with around 26 seats in the House of Lords, not counting retired bishops who have been awarded peerages.
A stick to beat Labour with
Onwards to somewhat less heroic stories — the attention given to Sir Keir Starmer’s foreign travels and the sympathetic coverage given to farmers complaining about inheritance tax.
On the prime minister, LBC’s Nick Ferrari coined the immortal phrase: “He’s off again. Never here, Keir.”
As far as I can see, the “credit” — if that is the right word — for first spotting the behaviour of the itinerant prime minister belongs to Sam Coates of Sky News, although many other outlets have jumped in since.
Of course, the right-wing press has been happy to find another stick to beat the prime minister with, while appearing to forget that Boris Johnson missed many Cobra emergency meetings during the Covid-19 crisis because, according to close advisor Dominic Cummings, he had been writing a book on Shakespeare. There was little outrage when the top political team at the time seemed to enjoy holidays during national crises.
But even publications such as the liberal Guardian and the Labour-supporting New Statesman had weighed in.
The Guardian has noted that, when Starmer returns from the G20 in Brazil this week, he will have been out of the country for 26 days — five working weeks, one for each month in office.
Andrew Marr has suggested in The New Statesman that, while making international connections are important, home is where the voters are. Except, Marr argues, you can hardly say that direct engagement with Washington, Paris, Berlin and Kyiv is time wasted and Starmer has apparently impressed fellow leaders.
Presumably the dates of many of the meetings have long been fixed — and isn’t it nice to have a British statesman seen as a serious player again?
Missing information
As for the farmers, they are obviously being used as yet another political stick to beat the government with.
The Sun’s splash on Tuesday featured gentleman farmer Jeremy Clarkson under the headline: “Clarkson’s farmy army.” He was portrayed as leading a squad of country workers into battle with the government from his Diddly Squat farm.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t room in the piece to include the fact that Clarkson has boasted to The Times in the past that he had bought the farm precisely to escape inheritance duties or that most big land sales of the past year are believed to have been for the same purpose rather than for genuine farming.
Raymond Snoddy is a media consultant, national newspaper columnist and former presenter of NewsWatch on BBC News. He writes for The Media Leader on Wednesdays — bookmark his column here.