Decisions by default
Stephen Glover
The General Synod of the Church of England, like the Church Assembly before is a conservative institution. Last week's Synod at York was opened by Dr Stuart Blanch, Archbishop of York, a man who in appearance somewhat resembles an out-ofwork Brylcreem salesman. He spoke of the Church's need to commit itself to society Whilst retaining a separate identity. 'Every Christian needs to be converted from the World and as soon as possible after to the world.'
It is an old dialectic, the second half of Which, on the evidence of this Synod, the Church of England seems unwilling to Complete. Indeed since the first General Synod in 1970 Synods have shown themselves consistently frightened of controversy or radical change such as union with the Methodists or the ordination of women. The General Synod has a decorum which is the sPirit of the Church of England. One saw this, for example, in the placid reaction to the Archbishop of Canterbury's strictures on immigration. On the first day of the Synod Dr Coggan had delighted the media and won the support of fifty-six Conservative MPs by writing: 'There must he a clearly defined limit to the numbers of those allowed into this country. There are signs that our present legislation needs a careful look at this point.' Now this is not raietst, but it has a certain ambiguity (we already have clearly defined limits) which kiMght be inflammatory. And yet it was uarelY discussed at the Synod. Only towards the end of the week was the matter raised ,Obliquely during a debate on, of all things, nance. 'Some of us believe that the legislation in this quarter is very tight indeed,' ,s4td Canon Smith-Cameron from the incese of Southwark. Dr Coggan, obviously Inrewarned of the question, thanked the Canon for 'the courteous and kindly way in Which he spoke.' He tried to put his statement quoted above in its context of milder statements and he attempted to be less arnniguous—'I was not inveighing there against the legislation, I was inveighing
against the fudging of it, the evasion of legislation which I think sometimes takes place'—without explaining what he meant by 'fudging' or 'evasion'. He then sat down and that was that. No one said, 'Look, Dr Coggan, don't you think it was a bit tactless of you to broach these vital questions in such a brief and ambiguous way?' He could have used such advice profitably, for it seems the Archbishop is so fond of making national appeals, such as his call to the nation last November, that he overlooks the vagueness and glibness of what he says.
The centrepiece of the Synod was the debate on the appointment of bishops. Because the Church of England is established, the Queen as Supreme Governor, or in practice her Prime Minister, appoints its bishops with only discretionary consultation of the Church. But many churchmen have regretted that the state should appoint their apostolic leaders, and two years ago the Synod affirmed by 270 to 70 'the principle that the decisive voice in the appointment of diocesan bishops should be that of the Church'. This was strongish stuff. The Archbishop of Canterbury and the chairman of the House of Laity, Sir Norman Anderson, were then sent to bargain with the Prime Minister, and at York they reported back. Sir Norman admitted their concessions 'did not represent a wholly ideal solution' but they only left the Prime Minister with 'a minimal relic of constitutional discretion'. It is proposed that a committee be set up by the Church to recommend two names to the Prime Minister, possibly in order of preference, though he is not bound to recommend the first to the Sovereign. If the Prime Minister does not like either of the candidates he can ask for more. In other words he has an eternal power of veto. No one can slip through his net.
Clearly these terms do not give the Church 'the decisive voice' it wanted, and Sir Norman's phrase 'minimal relic of constitutional discretion' is perhaps a little wild. Compare it (as none did at the Synod) with Mr Callaghan's view of things at the House of Commons on 8 June: 'In giving that final advice the Prime Minister would retain a real element of choice.' Who is right ? The Synod persuaded itself that Sir Norman was, and welcomed the terms by 390 to 29. Attempts among the more radical elements to modify this unqualified welcome by inserting such phrases as 'a step in the right direction' or 'a temporary measure' were heavily defeated. Sir Norman called such amendments dishonourable, and spoke daringly of the dangers of confronting the state, perhaps stirring memories of the disendowment suffered by the Church of Wales when it was disestablished. He questioned on semantic grounds whether you can welcome something with reservations. Dr Coggan said that for his part he did not want to destroy that special relationship between Church and State. 'I value access to 10 Downing Street and Buckingham Palace as much as to the shop floor . . . This privilege can be used to the advantage of the Church and the glory of God:' Maybe. What the debate revealed, however, is the essentially timid and conservative nature of a Synod unprepared to express even mild reservations about concessions it knew were inadequate. This caution characterised practically all the proceedings of the Synod. It was not even dispelled by an invitation address by Dr Philip Potter, the black General Secretary of the World Council of Churches. The WCC has attracted criticism, even in the Synod, for its Programme to Combat Racism -which has included the subsidy of guerrilla groups such as Frelimo. Here, one thought, is the meeting of opposites. But both Dr Potter and the Synod were studiously polite. It is true Dr Potter spoke of 'the search for a just, participatory and sustainable society. A vast enterprise which comprises us all locally and globally', but such jargon tended to sully over some very essential differences of thought between himself and the Synod. It took someone who was not a member of Synod to interject an unofficial question on the WCC's antiracist subsidies to African groups. Dr Potter replied that the subsidies are for peaceful purposes, that they take other forms such as the protection of Koreans in Japan. But no one developed the debate and ironically the Synod was by default left identified with a radical position.
It was a lack of courage that characterised the Synod. No one dared apply Christian principles to Dr Coggan's comments on immigration; few were openly critical of the Prime Minister's 'concessions'; none was candid with Dr Potter. This is the worst kind of conservatism—not a calculated position of belief but a slovenly and timid reluctance to clarify any beliefs. Of course (and here is the irony) there has been some change, most notably in the Church's virtual disposal of its ancient liturgy, a process confirmed in this Synod by the further prolonging of experimental replacements until 1979. How easy, though, to cast a pearl away, how difficult to find new ones.
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