The Daily News
May 19 2004
Disgraced priest marks the end of an era of silence
Editorial
It is perhaps only
25 or 30 years ago that the New Zealand victims of paedophiles first began to
speak out. Their stories seemed bizarre to most of the population, who had
enjoyed the protected and innocent childhood they deserved. Only those raised in abusive households or unlucky enough to have been
stalked by molesters knew that this ancient, dark, parallel universe existed.
Until three or four decades ago, the rare court reports that touched on these
matters were circumspect about defendants facing "serious" or
"very serious" charges. Few details emerged about the sordid nature
of such cases, which had the opposite effect of that intended: this excessive
discretion by both the police, judiciary and newspapers, rather than protecting
society from such predators, more likely served to further encourage their
behaviour in the full expectation that any subsequent court case would result
in scant media coverage and public humiliation.
As a young man entering the priesthood in the early 1970s, Alan Woodcock had
the misfortune -- if that is the correct word -- to believe the culture of
silence, both of the Catholic Church and society generally, would allow him to
prey at will on suitably vulnerable boys entrusted to his care. In that era,
the child victims of sex abusers, despite their trauma, rarely spoke out. This
was partly because of the unquestioned authority that senior figures enjoyed
and because of the shame that would fall the victims and their families as much
as the offender. The voraciously homosexual Father Woodcock had every reason to
believe that intimidated and embarrassed boys -- and perhaps a few shamed by
their own hormonal confusion -- would maintain the traditional silence.
The church certainly played its part. After a 1979 conviction for indecent
assault, Woodcock was given the "geographical cure" of being moved
around a succession of schools in the hope that he could be counselled and
monitored out of the abusive behaviour. This wishful thinking was both a
measure of the church's naivety and its misplaced priorities in trying to
protect the institution before trying to protect the children it invited, in
fact demanded, to join its ranks. Self-protection was initially more important
even than adhering to its own religious tenets. To be fair, the church -- along
with the courts and society -- has learned and changed, although more slowly
and more unwillingly than the wider world. It had much to lose, and not only in
cash. The damage is done, seriously denting the Catholic Church's image and
unfairly tarnishing the reputations of countless sincere and long-serving
priests and staff. With a billion followers, it is too big to imagine the
damage will be fatal, but it might take another generation to repair.
Such is the power of sunlight.