How abusers face the aftermath

New research on clerical child sex abusers has raised questions about the way church leaders supervise them after disclosure, …

New research on clerical child sex abusers has raised questions about the way church leaders supervise them after disclosure, which has prompted concern they may be at risk of reoffending.

'Every Order is watching its back and at the same time it's trying to be sympathetic and supportive and charitable to the victims and to you and me. How do you find that balance?" "I understand their fears [people in leadership positions within the Catholic Church], but if there was a bit more communication in our charitable organisation and we could talk more and communicate together then maybe we could move on." The above quotes, taken from a revealing series of in-depth interviews with nine clerical sex abusers, reveal much about the scale of the challenges faced by leaders within the church when it comes to tackling arguably its most difficult and emotive issue: how to handle the aftermath of abuse by members of the clergy.

The new research forms part of a wider nine-year study by UCD lecturer and researcher Marie Keenan. She is a founding member of the Granada Institute who also operates a small private psychotherapy practice.

The publication of the research comes at a time when the church has been the focus of significant recent controversy in relation to the opening of certain church files to the Commission of Investigation in the Dublin Archdiocese. Also in the Dublin area, the appointment of a retired Garda detective as a "priest support coordinator" has been highlighted.

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Yet, in an indication that senior church leaders are keenly aware of the need to understand the issues faced by clerical abusers, it is interesting to note that the research also received funding from the Irish Bishops Conference and two religious orders.

In their interviews, the men describe sudden changes in their superiors' approach to the restrictions placed on them.

They claim that this usually happened when revelations of new abuses brought the full media spotlight down upon the church, and not as a result of any changes in their own situation.

Two of the men in the study describe "oppressive" regimes of surveillance that were imposed on them, rather than supervision.

These included not being permitted to answer a knock at the hall door, in case it might be a boy; not having access to a car, and not visiting friends overnight unless accompanied by another priest of the order.

"According to the men, the bishops and superiors changed their minds, many times, on the regulatory regimes that are imposed on them, often for no apparent reason," the research continues.

Overall, Keenan recorded 30 hours of group interviews with the nine men, as well as other follow-up interviews.

Six of the men were convicted for their crimes and completed custodial sentences. Another was convicted but received a non-custodial sentence on grounds of severe ill-health.

However, two were never convicted. Like the others, they were receiving treatment at the Granada Institute, having admitted to abusing minors. All except one are still alive - and most are living in the State.

"The men's narratives indicate that following the abuse disclosures from the mid-1990s onwards, the bishops and religious leaders made all the key decisions regarding their lives, almost always without consultation, such as where the men would live and how they would occupy their time - for example cleaning the church, sorting flowers, doing archival work," Keenan writes.

"Following the revelations of their abusing, church leaders decided with whom the men could communicate, what therapist and therapy programme they should attend and, in three cases, even where and when the men could attend Mass as a member of the congregation. The men were not permitted to wear clerical clothes and they needed to seek permission from the bishop or provincial leader to attend any gatherings of clergy."

In one instance, an interviewee describes how a change of bishop brought a new policy and a charter of regulations to which he had to adhere. This new regime increased his sense of alienation and marginalisation, the study notes, particularly since he felt he was being treated "fairly" by his first bishop, who encouraged him to pursue his therapy and to face up to the legal consequences of his abuse.

"[The second bishop] believed I was not safe in my village - he believed I was a danger to children - even though the child delegate believed otherwise . . . On my first meeting with the second bishop I was surprised that he did not want to listen to what the therapists had to say and that I was safe where children were concerned. I haven't abused anyone since before 1988. From what I heard from others he still believes that I am a danger, that I try to manipulate the other priests, that I am a liar, that I shouldn't be seen in public with any priest."

Despite the kindness of a number of priests and brothers in his order towards him, another participant said he felt increasingly sidelined by his provincial leadership team and in a sense felt "out of sight and out of mind".

MOST OFthe nine perpetrators who participated in the study express empathy with their victims. "What is happening to the child is another form of abuse when other kids know that he is your victim . . . what exactly is he thinking about himself, and by the same token where was he to go, who was he to talk to . . . where do all these feelings go?" one participant asks.

"If a child cannot talk to their parents I can see now exactly what happens. It creates or cements something into existence between the child and his parents, in that he cannot talk to them. It gives it permanence. I feel terribly ashamed of what I have done because many of the kids I abused were in the position of not telling their parents. You were banking on the fact that they couldn't or wouldn't or didn't talk about it."

Some experts warn that expressions of empathy, particularly in a therapeutic setting, do not automatically mean perpetrators truly empathise with their victims. Indeed, another participant appears to acknowledge that there are also limits to this empathy. "I can turn around now and say I feel all the pain - that I understand what the victims went through. I wish to Christ I could, but I'm not sure any of us have it or can ever have it," he states.

Similarly, despite the apparent progress made by the majority of the men, one of the interviewees also remained unwilling to acknowledge the hurt he had caused, claiming that his victims were disclosing abuse "in order to receive monetary compensation".

Another eventually did express regret for the damage he had done, having previously claimed that he did not see that "what he had done to the boys was abusive, especially in the case of a 17-year-old relative, whom [he] believed had consented". The man had said he had been a victim of abuse in his own childhood and "that it had not done him any harm".

The men also highlight the silent anger which the revelation of their abuse can generate among their fellow clergymen, and express concern that little is being done to address this within the church.

"Colleagues in religious orders or in the dioceses have no place in which to process their anger," is one participant's view of this situation. Another adds: "I think the issue of colleagues and their anger needs careful handling. How long do they let their anger fester? Silence from colleagues is the worst of all."

The abusers also emphasise the effect of fallout from their activities on their own families. All of them felt that their families needed a lot of help to cope, the research notes.

"But while in some cases such support was forthcoming, in others the perpetrators state that their families were "left to their own devices". "I will never know just how much my family are suffering because of me. I do think that the religious leaders have a lot to answer for too because of their neglect in this area," is how one of the interviewees sums it up.

An elderly parent of one offender who also contributed to the research asks: "Do you think I would have left my son without help for his problems for 25 years, and leave him out there to abuse other children? I don't know why I wasn't told 25 years ago that he had a problem."

The question of why the issues raised by Keenan's interviewees should be of any importance to the public is a sensitive one. These are, after all, men who have proven themselves to be arch-manipulators in the past and who are guilty of horrific crimes such as child rape and molestation. They are also guilty of betraying the trust placed in them by parents, children and society.

All too often, the knee-jerk reaction can be that they deserve no better than to suffer a miserable life, and that any attempt to highlight their situation is misguided. But Keenan, who has extensive experience of counselling victims, argues that there is a need for a far more nuanced approach.

There is support for her position from the influential victims' group, One in Four, which also counsels perpetrators as part of an outreach programme. Crucially, this had followed requests by victims themselves for such a programme to be established.

Deirdre Fitzpatrick, director of advocacy with One in Four, says she welcomes "anything that would enable us to respond in a more effective way to issues of sexual violence". While she has not seen the research, she says it would appear to echo her own group's experience of a lack of consistency and transparency among individual dioceses in the way they treat offenders.

One in Four sees the question of how to deal with perpetrators as a vital child protection issue. "What we have here is a very unique perspective of the perpetrators," Fitzpatrick adds. "We would welcome it if it can lead to improved service provision and more effective responses to the issue of sexual violence and child protection. We need to start having a conversation as to how we as a society respond to the issue of sexual violence, and part of that conversation includes the perpetrator." With this in mind, Fitzpatrick says it is important that the church authorities and, more importantly, the State, urgently provide multi-agency support for perpetrators. A key concern is that offenders might experience social isolation and alienation, which in turn could increase the risk of them reoffending.

The State can learn much from the coordinated approach offered by the Multi Agency Sex Offender Risk Assessment/Management (MASRAM) model employed in Northern Ireland, she believes. This sees bodies such as the police, probation, prisons service, government departments and social services working together to monitor and manage sex offenders by addressing key issues such as mental health, housing and other needs. A key aim of all this is to minimise the risk of recidivism.

A spokesman for MASRAM notes that the risks posed by a small number of individuals can be managed only through incarceration. But he argues that the majority can be managed by "robust" risk management plans.

UNFORTUNATELY, THEapproach taken by MASRAM is one which Fitzpatrick says is sorely missing on this side of the Border.

Asked to comment on the procedures put in place for the supervision of clerical abusers here - and the other issues raised by Marie Keenan's research - a spokesman for the Catholic Communications Office said management of abusers "happens at a diocesan level. It is not possible to give a national overview at this stage," he adds.

For her part, Keenan is at pains to stress that telling the story of men who have abused "is not in any way to condone the abuse or explain it away, nor is it an attempt to disqualify any of the current voices that are out there in the public realm. It is more an attempt to bring forth the complexities and the multitude of lives that are affected daily by this issue."

"It is a very sensible child protection strategy to treat men who have abused. Most victims disclose because they want the abuse to stop or they want reassurance that another child will not have to endure sexual abuse; treating perpetrators is the best way to prevent further offending.

"We need to have open debate on the issues involved. Non-clergy can go on to live some sort of a life once they complete prison sentences," she argues. "Catholic clergy who have abused are forgotten completely."

An offender's perspective

'I WAS the schoolteacher, the all-powerful; sitting up in his big office . . . and sometimes I think of what kind of effect it had on the other kids when I called a kid up to my room . . . What I now see is what the kid must have gone through coming up to my office . . . It was only when I looked back at my own abuse that I recognised that when I would be called out of the class there would be sniggers and smiles from the other fellows in the class . . . I can only think of the things that must have been said to that young man, that young child, as he went back to the dormitory or the classroom.

"When my sibling said: 'Why didn't you tell us this? We love you anyway,' I felt really sad. You know, it all goes back to that sense that I had . . . I'm different . . . I will never know just how much my family are suffering because of me. I do think that the religious leaders have a lot to answer for too because of their neglect in this area.

"Some of the people I had journeyed with for 20 years were the people that I found it most difficult to tell . . . You know it was the shame thing . . . These were the people who would have seen the best of me in a non-abusive way . . . I feel the enormity of the hypocrisy, the covering up and so on.

"I think the issue of colleagues and their anger needs careful handling. How long do they let their anger fester? Silence from colleagues is the worst of all.

"I went back to the treatment programme [outside the State] two days after my mother's funeral and I was told by the therapist that I must get on with the treatment now and not let my mother's death distract me from the important work I had to do. I was distraught and I was filled with grief and shame and regret, and my life was falling apart. I thought the therapist was cruel. My father had died some months previously. There is a conflict between the human dimension and the Christian dimension, and some time it has to be addressed; what I mean is preaching justice and forgiveness but not applying it to their brothers - to us."