The Reverend Andrew Sempell is Rector of St James King Street Anglican church in Sydney and a Fellow of St Paul’s College, Sydney University. In 2002, Rev Sempell became Dean of All Saints’ Cathedral, Bathurst and also served as Deputy Commissary to the Bishop of Bathurst. He was a member of the General Synod, (including the Defence Force Board and the Special Tribunal) and Deputy Chair of the All Saints’ College Council. On Tuesday 6 June 2017 Andrew Sempell joined the Rev Bruce Ballantine-Jones to discuss Inside Sydney – An insider’s view of the changes and politics in the Anglican Diocese of Sydney, 1966-2013.
INSIDE SYDNEY – A RESPONSE
ANDREW SEMPELL
I thank the Sydney Institute for the invitation to come and speak on Bruce Ballantyne-Jones’ book concerning the politics of the Anglican Diocese of Sydney. As Rector of St James’ King Street (the parish on whose lands we gather this evening), I stand well outside the political machinery of the Diocese. Although, as Dean of Bathurst (including being a member of the General Synod) and as an Army Chaplain, I did have my fair share of involvement in church politics.
A popular view is that the church invented politics, released it into the wild, and has been struggling since to get it back into its cage. We certainly have shifted from the time of Christendom, when the church had the upper-hand and bishops could make kings come crawling to them for forgiveness. It is now the other way around, and the bishops go crawling to the politicians for “influence” and churches have become more adjuncts to the political parties in their attempts to control society. In the words of Sir Humphrey Appleby: “The bishops seem to want to talk about politics and the politicians want to talk about moral issues!” But I am digressing before I get going.
We certainly have shifted from the time of Christendom, when the church had the upper-hand and bishops could make kings come crawling to them for forgiveness. It is now the other way around
Bruce’s book Inside Sydney is, in part, a candid expose of the inner workings of the Diocese in recent times, it is also part apology in defence of the role of politics in the Diocese, and part autobiography. This last aspect is not unsurprising among literate politicians who are keen to ensure that the records of their endeavours are correct.
Bruce’s writing style is like his political style – blunt and honest. I am sure that there are some current and former Assistant Bishops that are smarting from his critique, although there is perhaps one who is quite happy as being described as ablest in the Diocese!
His book covers the administration of the Diocese over almost 60 years and which, coincidently, is the period of the greatest decline in church participation in Australia’s history. It also happens to cover most of my life from when I grew up at Glenorie – on the north-western outskirts of the city – and was involved in the Parish of Dural until I left to go to university in Armidale, then move around the country with the church and military, and finally to return to Sydney seven years ago.
there are some current and former Assistant Bishops that are smarting from his critique
The book is a veritable “general store” of stories and anecdotes, with something available for everyone: goods with which to agree and disagree, items that may offend, dark secrets to be revealed, whitewash to cover up, and flannel to ensure we don’t get too close to some embarrassing moments. I have enjoyed reading it and learnt much from it, and agree with many of Bruce’s criticisms of the Diocesan administration that continue even today.
Bruce summarises the culture of the Diocese through the whimsical words of Winston Churchill’s description of Russia as “a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma”. I wonder if this is an intended irony, for I would describe Russia as a “calculating, controlling and confrontational” state, which may well also apply to the politics of the Diocese of Sydney.
The book is a veritable “general store” of stories and anecdotes, with something available for everyone: goods with which to agree and disagree, items that may offend, dark secrets to be revealed, whitewash to cover up, and flannel to ensure we don’t get too close to some embarrassing moments.
Sydney was established as a penal colony and the Anglican Church had a privileged position as the “established” Church of England to provide the chaplaincy for the settlement. Unlike the United States, which has a religious narrative for its origins based on the liberal ideals of freedom and equality, New South Wales was established on a culture of hierarchy and control – despite the humanism of Arthur Phillip. The early governors tended to see the role of the church as a “moral policeman” there to convict people of their wrong-doing, encourage repentance and reform, and to make people useful to society. Many of the Anglican chaplains (such as Samuel Marsden) relished this role, along with the moralistic monopoly that the chaplains held – especially by having the Catholic clergy kept out of the colony for the first thirty years. But, of course, the Anglican Church, was never the “established church” of New South Wales (or Australia), although I suspect many of its members have never quite come to terms with that.
By the mid-nineteenth century, with the continued settlement of principally English, Scottish and Irish people (both convicts and immigrants) came the curse of sectarianism. The political and ecclesiastical conflicts over status, property, and social control between Anglican Bishop William Grant Broughton, Catholic Archbishop Bede Polding and the Presbyterian minister John Dunmore Lang became legendary.
the Anglican Church, was never the “established church” of New South Wales (or Australia), although I suspect many of its members have never quite come to terms with that.
As an indicator of ethnicity and class, sectarianism became the single most powerful religious force in Australian history and segued into national politics and the social-order well into the twentieth century. As Bruce noted, during this time the Diocese of Sydney took on a profound anti-Catholic position that especially drew its energy from the politics of Ireland. For example, the mid-twentieth century Principal of Moore College (and staunchly anti-Catholic Irishman), Thomas Chatterton Hammond was Grand Master of the Grand Orange Lodge of NSW. This anti-Catholic fervour continues as a reduced presence in the Diocese today.
It is also interesting to note that this anti-Catholic prejudice in the Diocese transferred itself to the resident Anglican-Catholics, (including some of my predecessors at St James’) of which the Memorialist controversy of the 1930s is an example. For we outsiders, the Sydney Diocesan narrative has been one of a movement from a broad inclusive church away (with ecclesiastical diversity) to a much narrower position resulting in a mono-culture that leaves the Diocese vulnerable to the social changes around it because of its inability to change and adapt. This has been greatly achieved through its one-party political machine, the Anglican Church League.
As an indicator of ethnicity and class, sectarianism became the single most powerful religious force in Australian history and segued into national politics and the social-order well into the twentieth century.
Another religious strand that entered the Diocese of Sydney in the early twentieth century, not mentioned in Bruce’s book, was the Plymouth Brethren – a conservative, non-conformist, holiness sect that, despite its name, originated in Ireland. The Katoomba Convention (based on the English Keswick Conventions) was established by the Brethren Young and Deck families, who had married into the Sydney hierarchy, including the Loane and Knox families.
Over the years the Convention has changed from a non-denominational Christian gathering to a narrower Sydney Anglican one. Attendance at the Convention, like the Russian Communist Party Congress, has become a way of defining who is “sound” and “one of us”. It also provides a way of teaching the Sydney narrative both across the Diocese and across generations, and furthermore gives young people the opportunity to meet each other and find suitable partners. As I have discovered through my own connection with the Young family, most of us in the Sydney Diocese seem to be related to one another; and herein lies a problem.
Another religious strand that entered the Diocese of Sydney in the early twentieth century, not mentioned in Bruce’s book, was the Plymouth Brethren – a conservative, non-conformist, holiness sect that, despite its name, originated in Ireland.
Far from being a democracy based on the Westminster conventions and open to the whim of the electorate, the Diocese of Sydney is, in fact, run as a family business (a big one – perhaps similar to what Consolidated Press used to be under the Packers). The familial and tribal connections are vital to the operation of the diocese, along with the patronage of powerful leaders (both clerical and lay) within the Diocese. The Archbishop is the patriarch.
It is these tribal connections, based on a narrative that reinforces the idea of being “God’s elect”, that leads to hubris, self-focus, and error. There are moments when Bruce comes close to acknowledging this, but then out comes the flannel. An example is the loss of around half of the Diocese’s financial assets in the global financial crisis of 2008 – indeed, more than $160 million – the real figure has never been disclosed and could be much higher.
Who was the wiz-kid that came up with the idea of borrowing a pile of cash to buy equities as a way of increasing wealth in an organisation that does not pay tax and therefore cannot write off the interest costs against their tax liabilities? I’m not a merchant banker, but I do know that margin loans are for rich people who pay too much tax, but who gamble that the capital gains will outweigh the interest burden – something not dissimilar to investing in the Sydney property market. I think we were conned by our own propaganda, greed and insularity.
Far from being a democracy based on the Westminster conventions and open to the whim of the electorate, the Diocese of Sydney is, in fact, run as a family business (a big one – perhaps similar to what Consolidated Press used to be under the Packers).
The problem for the Diocese of Sydney, and much of the Anglican Church for that matter, is an increasing lack of competent people to oversee the governance and good management practices of its entities. Too often a preference is given to people who are “in the tribe”, “one of us” or who are “ideologically sound”, rather than getting the best professional available. Moreover, having the same people sitting on boards and commissions at the strategic, operational and administrative levels of the organisation can be a disaster, as the Diocese of Bathurst loan scandal has proven.
When it comes to our governance and operations, we would be better served by engaging people with a high degree of professionalism, competence, and an ability to be called to account for their fallings. Unfortunately, tribalism works against this.
Bruce’s argument for the centrality of Synod as being something similar to a national parliament in a liberal democracy breaks down when one realises that, unlike a nation state, the church is a voluntary association and that people are free to engage as they wish and depart at will. Indeed, for many Anglicans, the experience of synod is not so much a binding force but rather a cause to leave. And leave they have over the past 60 years with regular church participation plummeting from 45 per cent of the population in the 1950s to 8 per cent today, a drop of 80 per cent; whereas the reduction in people identifying themselves as Christian has only dropped by around 30 per cent. I wonder why?
The problem for the Diocese of Sydney, and much of the Anglican Church for that matter, is an increasing lack of competent people to oversee the governance and good management practices of its entities.
Today, around 2 per cent of the Sydney population are regular worshippers in an Anglican Church, (that is at least once per month); which it is not big. This figure is consistent with the major centres of Sydney, Melbourne or Brisbane. Mind you, only about 0.5 per cent of the population are members of a political party – so we are not that bad off. What is different about Sydney Diocese is its age profile, in that it has a higher proportion of young people – especially teenagers. The Diocese has done well in this regard.
I could talk further about the failure of the Mission goal of 10 per cent, and the problem of a top-down approach to change. I could talk about how the church spends too much of its time talking to itself and not enough time engaging with the community in an open and honest way. I could talk about how the desire of a minority to maintain social control over the rest of the community leads to resentment and rejection. I could talk about the way that the exercise of realpolitik in the church alienates people and betrays the gospel of Christ as well as the concept of “sacred community”.
for many Anglicans, the experience of synod is not so much a binding force but rather a cause to leave.
What is different about Sydney Diocese is its age profile, in that it has a higher proportion of young people – especially teenagers. The Diocese has done well in this regard.