Written by Tom Newham | 28 November 2011
Posted in Comment - Britain

Photography: duncan

It’s always sad to see a forgotten celebrity self-destruct. Amy Winehouse was a tragedy waiting to happen, and Charlie Sheen’s slow fall from grace is following a similar, disturbingly common pattern. But what makes the most recent high-profile implosion of an already fading star unusual is that it’s not a drug addicted celebrity. It’s not even a single person. It is, in fact, the beating heart of Britain’s religious establishment: the gaggle of bearded men that runs St. Paul’s Cathedral.

Even for an atheist it is difficult to avoid acknowledging that the incompetents leading the institution on its bumbling passage into the abyss have authored quite a miracle. Jesus turned water into wine but the establishment of today’s Church has managed something altogether more impressive; it has turned thin air into a seemingly full-blown crisis. The only catalyst necessary was a bunch of unwashed tent-dwellers perching on its doorstep, explaining relatively politely that capitalism has failed and that the banks aren’t accountable.

Maybe it was the overpowering smell of body odour coming from the Occupy protesters that forced the bishops to take action. Perhaps they were just feeling a bit lazy. But for six days in late October the illustrious monument to the power of the Church was closed to all, and I for one struggle to believe that that the official reason - “a clear fire hazard” – has anything to do with it.

Whether they intended to do so or not, the ‘defenders of the faith’ made the closure of St. Paul’s look very political. Church relics still embedded in the right-leaning commentariat are keen to point out that in its long and illustrious history, St. Paul’s has closed only once – and that was during the Blitz. Former Archbishop of Canterbury George Carey, for example, was keen to pin responsibility for the closure on the reckless hooligans at the gates. That’s probably worth putting into perspective though. That the occupy protesters managed the same feat as Hitler’s Luftwaffe surely says something about the will and leadership of Britain’s most recognisable religious institution.

Unflinching belief without evidence comes naturally to the clergy, but to believe that the hippies camped out next to the cathedral really pose any sort of safety risk would be utterly absurd. Either the doors were shut because St Paul’s wanted to force the protesters away, or because it was in such a state that it didn’t know what to do, and simply began to implode. Neither of those situations reflects particularly kindly upon the Church.

In short, a ragged collection of sandal-wearing nobodies has brought the religious establishment to its knees – and I don’t mean for prayer. It is worth adding, though, that the protesters haven’t really done that much at all. They’ve simply sat down somewhere that they’re not supposed to. The sense of crisis that the Church has engendered is almost entirely its own doing.

The original protest, let us remember, was only staged at St. Paul’s because the powers at the London Stock Exchange had the great unwashed moved on. The twitter hashtag – the unofficial slogan of any contemporary social movement – is #occupyLSX, not #occupytStPauls. Quite why the beards thought they had to take any real overt political stance is beyond me, though had they decided that there was some political capital to be made, they might have struck a more welcoming note.

Indeed, that seemed to be their original strategy – though it was soon forgotten. It’s no secret that the Anglican Church struggles for significance. Why not take up a social cause and bring the ancient institution into the 21st century? Indeed, the current Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr Rowan Williams, favours the same Robin Hood financial transactions tax as many of the protesters do. But they missed an open goal. The perplexing decision to close the Cathedral to the outside world and to flirt with legal action in an attempt to banish the peaceful protesters from their steps served only to portray the institution as a tired and aloof anachronism.

One pertinent banner pitched outside St. Paul’s asks, ‘What would Jesus do?’ The answer of the Church seemed to be a little out of sync with the Bible. Jesus, lest we forget, was in favour of turning the other cheek - he might’ve raised an eyebrow at the Church’s abandoned attempts to have the activists violently removed. He also kicked the money-changers out of the temple and banned commerce from the house of the Lord. My guess is that were the Saviour around today, he’d probably be more concerned by the £14.50 sight-seeing admission price and the gift shop than the tents next door.

If he is watching, he must be shaking his head and wondering how it ever came to his. For Christ’s sake, bishops, sort it out.

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