Sunday, September 19, 2010

Suffer the little children



An interview with the Antwerp bishop Johan Bonny (pictured) appearing in this week’s Knack magazine was presumably intended to shift the focus of the question of child sexual abuse by clergy away from the guilty – the former bishop of Brugge, Roger Vangheluwe – and from the negligent – represented by Cardinal Godfried Danneels – to someone with clean hands.
However Bonny reveals himself to be just the latest in a line of unapologetic apologists. In a few brief statements, he manages to find space for all of the most current excuses, evasions and weasel-words. It’s worth looking at it closely, for it represents the core thinking of the Church on this matter.
(The translation is my own. Some passages have been omitted for space and flow. The full text in Dutch can be read here. The most recent news in the scandal, the publication of the report of the Adriaenssens Commission, set up to investigate child sexual abuse by clergy, is covered here.)
Interviewer Cathy Galle begins by asking Bonny if the idea of a new Commission for Recognition, Healing and Reconciliation advanced by the Belgian bishops’ conference is not an attempt by the Church to handle its problems in-house.
JB: The Church may not and does not wish to run away from its responsibilities. So it was up to the Church itself to take the initiative. We want to work in transparent dialogue with the others involved. For that reason we propose four experts, four new “Adriaenssens” you might say, engaged for their professional competence. People from outside the Church, who can restore confidence.
AH: I think it’s clear by now that the Church very much does want to run away from its responsibilities. Example 1: Danneels’ attempt to protect Vangheluwe – and of course the Church itself – from scandal by suggesting to a victim that he wait for his abuser to resign all in good time rather than have him exposed. See story here. Example 2: Peter Adriaenssens took over the chair of the Commission three years ago, but the body had been chaired by a magistrate for a decade prior to his arrival, during which time not a single member of the clergy was brought to the attention of the judicial authorities. Example 3: When the public prosecutor in Brussels seized the case-files of the Adriaenssens Commission in June, the first step taken by the Church was to attempt to have all searches carried out that day declared void, and all evidence ruled fruit of the poison tree.
Secondly, it should be pointed out that when Bonny hopes the four experts can “restore confidence,” he of course means “confidence in the Church”.
Bonny then claims the Church had a more concrete plan for the new commission worked out, but it was changed following publication of the Adriaenssens report. “We now want to enter into dialogue with the victims, but also with the justice ministry, the prosecutors and the care sector,” Bonny explains.
CG: Why was the publication of the report necessary for that?
JB: That report was extremely hard. I knew of stories of clergy who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. But the fact that [the report] consisted of such awful stories, of so much human tragedy, really affected us. I couldn’t read the report in one sitting: the stories, the details, touch you to the depths of your being. It opened eyes, and it led us to realise that we had to broaden our scope. That more dialogue was needed.
AH: Bonny uses the term “geestelijken” to mean all manner of clergy, which means roughly “spiritual people”. That seems to be a common usage, but to these foreign ears could hardly be less appropriate, as if one were talking about abusers and in the same breath referring to them as “men of God”. The report, meanwhile, though it gathers over 200 accounts from victims in one place, can hardly be said to be surprising. Bonny is correct about its impact on the reader. However the constant repetition of victims’ experience of telling their story for it to fall on deaf ears forces one to the conclusion that if more dialogue is indeed necessary, dialogue involving the Church appears to have no purpose whatsoever.
CG: Are you saying the bishops had no knowledge of what had been going on all those years?
JB: We knew that things sometimes happened that were not acceptable. Paedophilia occurs throughout society. As a young priest I often talked to the victims of incest who came to me with their stories. But the Adriaenssens report gave us an insight into the extent of the problem. That such horrors took place within our own ranks, on such a huge scale, really made an impact on us.
AH: Here Bonny trots out the old standby excuse: It’s not only priests who abuse children. Every more or less committed supporter of the Church in recent weeks has tried it on, but it won’t wash for three reasons:
1. It’s a variation on “shouldn’t you be out catching real criminals” when stopped for speeding by the police. Of course child abuse happens elsewhere, but that doesn’t lessen either the damage or the culpability when it happens in a Church situation;
2. In none of the circumstances evoked by defenders of the Church – sports clubs, schools, scout troupes etc – does the abuser threaten his victim with eternal damnation. But priests do. It’s typical for abusers to enjoin their victims to silence, obviously, but only the priest knows that his orders are backed up by the threat of burning in Hell. It is, after all, the sanction by which the Catholic Church has ensured obedience throughout its history. Other abusers – teachers, football coaches, and especially parents – have a strong power relationship over the child they’re abusing. But none of them has God on his side.
3. Somewhat related to 2, the Church and its representatives have taken upon themselves the role of moral arbiter, not least in the matter of sexuality. They therefore have farther to fall.
CG: The working group Human Rights in the Church of [retired] priest Rik Devillé has been going on now for years about hundreds of dossier of abuse by clergy. Nobody ever listened.
JB: I myself haven’t see the files held by Rik Devillé. When I read in the newspapers that Rik had files that hadn’t been dealt with yet, I called him right away to ask him to send on any files from my bishopric, so that I could take action as head of the Church. He never sent anything on, but he did go to the justice system with the files.
AH: Is anyone surprised? The mind simply boggles at Bonny’s bare-faced nerve. He calls a whistle-blower, as representative of the accused organisation, and asks him to hand over any evidence he may have. And then he’s surprised when the whistleblower declines.
CG: That seems to indicate a lack of trust in a Church which wants to judge its own case, and which often failed to take such dossiers seriously in the past. That’s a problem the new centre will have as well.
JB: Look, you have to understand that the Church is going through a learning process. We really want to take this problem on, step by step. We have a lot of catching up to do, but the will is there. Everything right now is in uproar, but you have to give us time and trust.
AH: One of the victims whose testimony is included in the report is in his nineties, another in his seventies. How much time does Bonny think might be needed? Centuries? The Church has only just got around to apologising to Galileo, after all. And where, frankly, does he get the idea his outfit is deserving of anything like “time and trust”? Is it just me, or does that last paragraph of his sound suspiciously like a wife-beater?
CG: You argue for closer cooperation with justice and with prosecutors, but at the same time the archbishopric allowed the searches made during Operation Chalice to be ruled inadmissible. That hardly inspires confidence.
JB: They can investigate what they like as far as I’m concerned, but it has to happen in a juridically correct manner. You don’t have to be a leading jurist to see that the searches on 24 June were not carried out correctly. That’s why we’d now like to discuss things with the justice system. We want to work together and avoid being caught up in an impasse.
AH: Bonny may have had inside knowledge, but at the time of the interview it was not commonly known that the main reason the searches in Mechelen were ruled inadmissible was that the magistrate carrying them out took the decision on the spot to open mail addressed to the new archbishop. That’s a big no-no, and rendered the rest of his searches void. What we did know at the time of the interview, on the other hand, is that the Church had tried to argue that Danneels’ computer contained correspondence with the papal nuncio, who’s the equivalent of a diplomat – as if the mere fact of writing to a diplomat covers you with his diplomatic immunity. Also, they said, he had written to the Pope, thereby gaining the confidentiality – for every byte on the machine – of communications with a head of state. You wouldn’t need to be a leading jurist to see how utterly ludicrous such claims are.
CG: Canon law allows, in extremely serious cases such as sexual abuse, for the timing-out of cases to be lifted by the Pope. Should that now happen in Monsignor Vangheluwe’s case?
JB: Yes. The papal nuncio has assured us that an answer will be available very soon.
AH: To be clear, there are two time-limits. One is that operated by the legal system, which could be changed or scrapped by a change in the law, but which stands no chance of being, in a country where Catholics hold such sway in every corner of society. The other is Church law, which would allow Vangheluwe to be stripped of his priesthood, for example. To be frank, I don’t think that sort of sanction is what people care about. Even if he were as a result to lose his generous pension of €2800 net per month – which he wouldn’t – I get the impression people still wouldn’t be satisfied. This week we also learned that investigators still want to interview Vangheluwe regarding a second alleged victim. So there’s a small chance he might yet land in a jail cell.
The important thing now, Bonny concludes by say, is that “abusers live in a place where they cannot carry out any form of abuse, and where they are forced each day to face up to the consequences of their actions”.
And how might that be done, asks Knack? You might think a jail cell would fit the bill perfectly, but no.
“By for example having to pay a sum of money to support therapy for the victim. But the expert working group also has to clarify that.

So there you have it: the answer according to Bishop Johan Bonny. Put the abuser somewhere he can’t fiddle with kids anymore (this has been done repeatedly in the past, only for the guilty party to be recycled back into a position of being able to abuse again, after the heat has died down); and make sure he pays something (which money, in Belgium, comes ultimately from the taxpayer, whether Catholic or not) for “therapy”. Presume that sort of blood-money would no longer need to be paid after the victim committed suicide, as happened in 14 of the cases contained in the Adriaenssens report.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

The Depressed Person

David Foster WallaceImage by Steve Rhodes via Flickr

Despite overwhelming feelings of reluctance on the part of the depressed person, the therapist had strongly supported her in taking the risk of sharing with members of her Support System an important emotional realization she (i.e., the depressed person) had achieved during an Inner-Child-Focused Experiential Therapy Retreat Weekend which the therapist had supported her in taking the risk of enrolling in and giving herself openmindedly over to the experience of. In the I.-e.-F.E.T. Retreat Weekend's Small-Group Drama- Therapy Room, other members of her small group had role-played the depressed person's parents and the parents' significant others and attorneys and myriad other emotionally painful figures from her childhood, and had slowly encircled the depressed person, moving in steadily together so that she could not escape, and had (i.e., the small group had) dramatically recited specially prepared lines designed to evoke and reawaken trauma, which had almost immediately evoked in the depressed person a surge of agonizing emotional memories and had resulted in the emergence of the depressed person's Inner Child and a cathartic tantrum in which she had struck repeatedly at a stack of velour cushions with a bat of polystyrene foam and had shrieked obscenities and had reexperienced long-pent-up wounds and repressed feelings, the most important of which being a deep vestigial rage over the fact that Walter D. ("Walt") Ghent Jr. had been able to bill her parents $130 an hour plus expenses for playing the role of mediator and absorber of shit while she had had to perform essentially the same coprophagous services on a more or less daily basis for free, for nothing, services which were not only grossly unfair and inappropriate for a child to feel required to perform but which her parents had then turned around and tried to make her, the depressed person herself, as a child, feel guilty about the staggering cost of Walter D. Ghent Jr., as if the cost and hassle were her fault and undertaken only on her spoiled little fat-thighed pig-nosed shiteating behalf instead of simply because of her fucking parents' utterly fucking sick inability to communicate directly and share honestly and work through their own sick issues with each other.


An extract from The Depressed Person, a short story published in The Atlantic in 1998 by David Foster Wallace, who knew a thing or two about depression.

What's comical about it is the way it's written in the cold, sterile prose of a case history, while describing the most monstrous and heart-rending story of the suffering of a young girl who isn't even allowed a name, while the therapist's is mentioned several times in one sentence (but what a sentence). She's apparently the only one in the whole story who experiences any empathy: she at least realises her problems are a pain in the neck for the people around her, all of whom are oblivious to her cares except where they are themselves inconvenienced.

The style reminded me of Bret Easton Ellis's American Psycho, which also relates the most unimaginable horrors in denatured prose

The DFW story is available online.

link

“I’m in this world to die” | Flanders Today


T'Hooft's poems, for which he was feted during his short life, capture the essence of those times, but also echo the eternal voice of disgruntled youth for whom oblivion, and sometimes even death, are a righteous response to the troubles of the world.

Johan Geeraard Adriaan T'Hooft, known as Jotie, was born in 1956 in Oudenaarde, an only child. His father worked, his mother was bedridden, and he was cared for by his grandparents. He began to go off the rails in secondary school, turning his back on schoolwork to find himself, in the manner of the times, immersed in literature by Kafka and Hesse, and in music.

Drugs were also very much of the times, and he was addicted by the age of 14. At 17 he left home and went to art school in Ghent. However, the big city only made his drug problem worse, and he began dealing to earn the money to feed his habit.

In 1973, he made his first suicide attempt, after which his parents brought him home for a brief time of peace. The following year, however, he was picked up by the drugs squad and placed in an institution.

He met a girl named Ingrid Weverbergh and married her in August of that same year. Her father, a publisher with the firm Manteau, found him work as a reader and arranged the publication of his first volume of poetry in 1975.

But this wasn't enough to calm the beast that raged in Jotie's soul. He tried to kill himself again in 1976, despite literary success. His second volume of poetry was published and picked up an important literary prize. He gave readings and talks and contributed to several literary magazines. But drug addiction remained, and Ingrid left him because he abused her. In October 1977, in a friend's bedsit in Bruges, he took an overdose of cocaine.

"Those are, more or less, the facts," wrote Hugo Brems, editor of a selection of T'Hooft's poems published in 1992. "Next to that is the myth, in which Jotie T'Hooft plays by turns the role of the romantic, decadent and doomed hero, symbol of a generation and of a poetic lifestyle. The two images - that of the facts and that of the myth - have hardly anything to do with each other. Between the two lie the poems."

A death foretold

The Flemish consider T'Hooft a neo-Romantic, a genre that, in English at least, extends all the way from Lewis Carroll to Ted Hughes; a nebulous division of literature characterised by a concentration on nature, a rather naïve escapism and a taste for the supernatural.

T'Hooft's poems and, to a lesser extent, his prose are marked by two main traits: his youth and the constant shadow of death. It's difficult to escape the conclusion, admittedly with hindsight, that his work is one long chronicle of a death foretold.

People tend to think of the 1960s and '70s as flower power days, but we've all forgotten how the world of that time, pre-perestroika, seemed on the brink of total destruction. T'Hooft's poems carry the marks of adolescent angst - the Dutch considered him too juvenile to take seriously, even as he was lauded in Flanders. But there is also an insight and profundity that point to a great talent, had he made it to maturity.

His star has since dimmed, as have those of many of the icons of that time. Maybe young people of the 1980s just weren't that interested in deathly melancholy, a popular theme of songs since Elizabethan times. The new collection couldn't have come at a better time. Perhaps T'Hooft, with his brooding dark looks, his slightly Byronic life, his obsession with death and his premature end, could be a new hero for the Twilight generation.

The book presents a wide selection of the poems as well as prose (which stand the test of time much less well) and letters - more than 900 pages in all. While perhaps not priced for a new market of young people coming to him afresh, it's a beautiful object: fine paper, the pages edged in black, a black silk bookmark, the cover decorated in psychedelic lettering. A book, in short, fit to take its place on the shelves of any self-respecting library.

Jotie T'Hooft: Verzameld Werk; Meulenhoff/Manteau; €49.95

What they're saying about Jotie T'Hooft
Karen Van Godtsenhoven
Curator at the Fashion Museum in Antwerp

"I just bought [the new collected works] because he was an icon when I was a teen. You couldn't find his works anywhere before. Everything was always sold out or stolen from the library. In the late 1990s and early 2000s, literature students vied to get a copy from one of the antique book stalls...or in junk markets, but he was impossible to find, all adding to the cult status. I now find it a little ‘much', but still good."

Marc Ernst
Webhost publisher and former magazine editor

"T'Hooft belongs to those few poets I have a volume of, together with the obligatory Herman De Coninck, Charles Ducal and Gust Gils. In fact, the book used to be in my bookcase, because I've just realised it's not there any more. Most likely it's somewhere in the mess of my 16-year-old son, who used it for school. He wanted to get to know our Belgian Jim Morrison because he read Morrison's biography last year for a class assignment. Nowadays people younger than me will probably be more likely to compare T'Hooft with Kurt Cobain. I consider T'Hooft - the man and the poems - as a part of my youth, together with Salinger, Kerouac and Gerard Reve. Going through puberty and becoming an adult with a bit of repulsion, rebellion, sturm und drang and so on. It was I think the personage Jotie T'Hooft that appealed to my generation rather than the poetry."

And what then?

Jotie T'Hooft's poems may be coloured by the pall of death, but they can also be funny and loving. One of his best-known is "En wat dan?", in which he imagines (or fails to imagine) the world going on when he is no longer in it.

One day I'll be gone and
What then? Vanished without a trace
or a farewell, the mess I leave
behind has gone beyond a joke.

For who else but me
built nothing
leaves nothing behind
but expectation and confusion
and what then?

Maybe I'll be frozen in your memory
Faded into the past and
what then? What to do then?
"It was real," you'll say, "he played with words
like nobody else could,
but so what?
Faded like so.
In your mind...
And what then?

link to original