A person walking into a BMO should be able to discover who governs it, who holds its leader accountable, who oversees safeguarding and where they can complain or whistleblow without needing to understand the internal machinery of the Church of England...We have already seen what can happen when charismatic leadership grows faster than the structures capable of challenging it.

I’m sharing this important piece from House of Survivors because it reiterates something safeguarding institutions still too often fail to grasp: abuse does not expire because it is labelled “historic”. The Royal College of Psychiatrists’ position statement recognises the potentially lifelong impact of non-recent child sexual abuse. House of Survivors goes further, highlighting the secondary trauma that can be caused by defensive, adversarial institutional responses.

Content warning: This post discusses allegations of rape and child sexual abuse. When reporting an allegation of rape, language matters. “Having sex” implies mutuality and consent. It sanitises the alleged actions of the adult and turns a child into a participant in their own alleged abuse.

Independent safeguarding reviews have become one of the Church's favourite forms of institutional theatre: commission a report, express concern, promise change, and carry on much as before. After reading enough of them, scepticism isn't cynicism. It's a rational response to an institution that has become far better at reviewing failure than confronting it.

If Synod leaves believing that the seal of the confessional is the Church's biggest safeguarding problem, it will have missed the central lesson of the last thirty years.

Whatever your theological convictions, safeguarding asks a different question. Is somebody being harmed? Safeguarding is not about policing belief. It is about recognising when power, influence and spiritual authority are exercised in ways that cause harm.

Rivals hardly pretends to be highbrow television. It is glamorous, ridiculous, funny, outrageous and at times completely over the top. What I wasn't expecting was that, somewhere between the shoulder pads and the sex, I'd find myself recognising a story that many of us sadly know all too well.

In this guest blog, Fr Robert Thompson, Vicar of St Mary's with All Souls', Kilburn, and St James's and the Sherriff Centre, West Hampstead, reflects on the deeper cultural and institutional challenges that continue to shape safeguarding in the Church.

Depending on what tickles your pickle, your private life may remain entirely your own business or become the subject of reports, consultations, working groups, theological statements, listening exercises, passive-aggressive area meetings, and debates about the future of Anglicanism itself.

This blog reflects on themes raised in Martin Sewell’s recent commentary, published on Surviving Church, about the experience of victim-survivors and the institutional response to persistent or ongoing safeguarding concerns within the Church of England. His reflections raise difficult and necessary questions about accountability, whistleblowing, and safeguarding culture. The reflections that follow draw on my own experience and build on earlier posts on Guarding the Flock.

I am deeply grateful for every single one of you and for the encouragement you continue to show.

Serving on a Parochial Church Council (PCC) is more than a voluntary commitment. Trustees carry significant legal responsibilities under charity law, yet many step into their roles without clear training or preparation. This gap can lead to challenges in governance, compliance, and safeguarding the parish’s mission. To address this, the Empowering Trustees session offers practical, focused training tailored to the realities of church and faith-based charity governance.

Safeguarding competence is not a matter of sex or gender. Sex or gender does not make someone a safe pair of hands. Safeguarding is about judgement, accountability, humility, and moral courage. It is about how power is exercised, constrained, and scrutinised. It is about what happens when harm is disclosed, when difficult questions are asked, and when institutional reputation is at stake.

Many bishops now carry moral residue: the enduring weight of having chosen what was least disruptive rather than what was right.

Justice does not simply need to be done; it needs to be seen to be done. Yet the Church of England repeatedly behaves as though how things look to survivors is an inconvenience rather than a safeguarding imperative. Survivors are told to “trust the process” while watching the same group of senior leaders rotate roles; gatekeeper today, colleague tomorrow, and respondent the next.

The Church does not need a nurse to hold its hand. It needs a surgeon to cut out the cancer.

safeguarding is not an “add-on.” It is an expression of pastoral care — rooted in the same common sense and compassion that shape all good leadership. When safeguarding is embraced as part of vocation rather than a burden, the church becomes a place where people can truly flourish.

Clergy under investigation often feel — and, in my experience of diocesan safeguarding, too often are — presumed guilty. Cut off from support, they can be left in limbo for months. Even when cleared, the stigma lingers. Whispers persist, careers stall, reputations are bruised. The wounds seep on, staining trust and sapping the confidence of both clergy and their communities.

Credibility is the currency of safeguarding. Survivors who come forward with regional or working-class accents may face disbelief, quiet dismissal, or subtle mockery because of how they sound. How are they supposed to speak up if their voices are judged before their words are heard?