ANALYSIS: Relations between Ireland and the Vatican
may be worse than is immediately apparent in the wake of the Taoiseach’s
speech.
WHEN I first read the speech by
Taoiseach Enda Kenny regarding the Cloyne report, I wrongly concluded it
had been delivered following widespread consultation within government
departments, and that it was rooted in a carefully worked-out diplomatic
strategy.
I know now that neither was the case.
The most
senior officials in the relevant Government departments – people with
wide experience and knowledge of church-State diplomacy – were not
consulted, and there was no carefully crafted diplomatic plan. The
speech, more scattergun than sure shot, ignored the checks and balances
of an administrative system which has served this State well since its
foundation.
It was hardly part of an Irish Government grand
strategy to force the recall of the Apostolic Nuncio, Archbishop
Giuseppe Leanza – unprecedented in the history of relations between this
country and the Holy See. The archbishop had served in that position
only since February 22nd, 2008.
But longevity is not the issue here.
The
Holy See has a policy of seeking to preserve diplomatic relations
intact even in the most trying and difficult of circumstances. Keeping
an envoy in residence through revolutions, dictatorships and
authoritarian regimes is part of the risk of working in the diplomatic
profession.
The diplomatic service of the Holy See is no exception.
Diplomats have risked their lives, and paid with them, in upholding
professional values and protecting the interests and citizens of their
respective countries.
The apostolic nuncio to Burundi, archbishop
Michael Courtney, from Nenagh, was assassinated on December 29th, 2003,
while in the service of the Holy See.
Why, therefore, would the
Holy See recall the Apostolic Nuncio to Ireland when the secretariat of
state [foreign ministry of the Holy See] has left in position apostolic
nuncios to serve in countries where clergy and bishops have been
murdered by the government authorities, as in Argentina, in the latter
part of the 1970s?
One might, at random, add historical examples from
the Nazi and Fascist periods in Europe in the 1930s and 1940s.
I
cite these in an effort to underline the significance of recalling a
nuncio from Ireland at this time. It must be emphasised the Holy See has
not broken off diplomatic relations with this country. The nunciature
in Dublin still functions, but without its head of mission.
This
is as significant a drawback as it is a rebuff. Dublin and the Holy See,
not wishing to make a bad situation worse, have politely attempted to
minimise the importance of the recall in public. The contents of the
respective diplomatic bags may tell another story.
What
precipitated that action may be viewed by many in Ireland as
over-reaction by the Holy See to just criticism by an Irish head of
government.
However, observing what has transpired, senior officials in
the secretariat of state would have felt stupefaction at the tone and
content of the Taoiseach’s address.
Historically, Ireland simply did not
behave in that way. When there were differences between Dublin and the
Holy See, normal diplomatic channels had been used to conduct
discussions between the two sovereign states.
The Taoiseach’s
speech was a radical departure at a number of levels. Firstly, there
were unintended discourtesies which anyone familiar with the workings of
the diplomatic world would regard as serious. When speaking formally as
head of government in parliament, the Holy See will have come to expect
from Dublin a more guarded and precise use of language.
The
depiction of the culture dominating “the Vatican to this day” as
dysfunctional, elitist and narcissistic is hardly language associated
with a speech by one head of government addressing another. Such
scattergun language might have wounded, but would not have provoked a
recall démarche.
But the key to the recall lies in another part of
the speech which spoke of “an attempt by the Holy See to frustrate an
Inquiry in a sovereign, democratic republic . . . as little as three
years ago, not three decades ago”.
The Taoiseach also spoke of the “rape
and torture of children” being downplayed or “‘managed’” by the Holy
See “to uphold instead, the primacy of the institution, its power,
standing and ‘reputation’.”
Based on the words quoted above, is
the head of the Irish government accusing the Holy See of deliberate and
wilful efforts to prevent his government from dealing with clerical
child sexual abuse?
Are those accusations being addressed to the Holy
See as an entity of the international system?
If so, what is quoted
above goes much further than stating the Holy See did not act robustly,
expeditiously and in a timely fashion to oblige the Irish church to
provide disclosure and mandatory reporting.
Is the speech making
the Holy See formally responsible for the perpetuation of clerical child
sexual abuse in Ireland?
In that context, the recall of the apostolic
nuncio from Dublin was not a petulant over-reaction. It was the only
course open to the Holy See, given the gravity of the charges being laid
against it by the head of the Irish Government.
While an official
reply is being carefully drafted – with the help of Archbishop Leanza –
it ought to be clear that the current conflict between the Holy See and
the Government should not be allowed to deepen.
However, the
speech has had unforeseen consequences which makes the chances of that
happening all the more likely.
An editorial in China News, for example,
quotes the text of the Taoiseach’s speech to justify the repressive
policy of the Chinese government towards the Catholic Church.
This is an
abuse of the Taoiseach’s speech.
It will make for interesting exchanges
between the Irish Ambassador in Beijing and the Chinese foreign
ministry.
It will also keep the chargé d’affaires at the Irish Embassy
to the Holy See busy in the latter days of August.
Dublin now
awaits the return of Archbishop Leanza to say his formal goodbyes (he
has been posted to the Czech Republic) and to deliver the Holy See’s
response.
Reading the two documents side-by-side – the Taoiseach’s
speech and the response of the Holy See – will make for an interesting
contrast in styles.
The document from the Holy See is bound to be an
exemplar of high diplomacy, its content having relevance way beyond the
shores of this small island.
Standing back from the world of high
diplomacy, it is vital to keep a clear focus on what happened in Ireland
regarding child sexual abuse.
The Irish State, Irish society and the
churches – the Catholic Church to the fore – must face up to their
lamentable failure to protect children over the past 90 years.
In
the Cloyne report there is reference to a primary school principal –
whom I once had the pleasure to teach – who, in the late 1990s,
withstood the might and complicity of Catholic Church authorities in
that diocese, and at the very highest level, to discharge her duty of
care to her students.
Threatened with being taken to the “highest court
in the land”, she would not yield to demands which would have put boys
in her charge in danger of being abused by a priest.
Facing calumny and
detraction, she still would not yield.
It was a lonely and a singular
stance.
In reviewing the history of the past 90 years on this
island, why – confronted by such widespread child sexual abuse – were
there so few “righteous gentiles” in church, State or society ready to
stand up and speak out in the face of such an unspeakable, pervasive
evil?
Dr Dermot Keogh is Professor Emeritus, University College Cork
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