The Church of England needs to lead

Spectator

24-06-2025

There was a unique focus on life and death in parliament last week, with critical votes on the decriminalisation of abortion and legalisation of assisted dying. Both propositions affect the interests of the most vulnerable. So what, I wondered, was the Established Church's take on them?
In recalling the now-retired Archbishop of Canterbury's strident interventions on matters for elected politicians – from benefit cuts and border control to a 'no deal' Brexit – not to mention the Church's costly self-flagellation over reparations, one might expect its leadership to be equally robust in defending the unborn, the sick, and the welfare of mothers. But truth be told, as I began my search, I was actually seeking confirmation. Confirmation of a suspicion I have had since the pandemic (when church doors stayed closed rather too enthusiastically) that on the crunchiest spiritual and moral issues of the day, the Church of England's leadership finds it all a bit uncomfortable.
On decriminalisation, I looked for public proclamations emanating from the offices of both Canterbury and York – since we are currently in an archbishop interregnum. There were prayers for Ahmedabad, the Middle East and Father's Day. There was a daily exploration of the Lord's Prayer, and a post heralding Refugee Week 2025. In advance of last week's votes, however, there was not even a gentle, opinion-free prayer for parliamentarians ahead of some challenging decisions.
Perhaps those abortion votes were so briskly whisked through that the Church's leadership missed that they were coming. Backbench MPs were granted 45 minutes to state their views on three amendments that had been hooked onto the Crime & Policing Bill. The first of them was voted through with a stonking majority and amounts to the biggest change to abortion law in 50 years.
A woman will now be able to end her pregnancy herself – beyond existing limits and at any stage up to birth – without legal consequence. It is a profound change that leaves the unborn child and women themselves extraordinarily vulnerable. The combination of the rushed decriminalisation amendment with the 'pills by post' regime is highly dangerous. This temporary regime was imposed during the pandemic but made permanent after another last-minute parliamentary ambush. It means that women can access tablets to abort a baby in the womb at ten weeks' gestation through just a phone or video call with a medic. Evidence now suggests that these pills have on several occasions got into the hands of abusive partners or been taken by women well beyond ten weeks, with grim results. The tiny number of criminal investigations of women that have ensued have been used as justification for last week's sweeping amendments.
Decriminalisation campaigners counter that existing abortion limits remain enforceable because medics and others are still bound by them and can therefore be prosecuted for carrying out or coercing someone to have an abortion. But the decriminalisation of the woman herself changes the game, just as previous incremental abortion reforms have brought us to this point.
There was a near total absence of any discussion of morality in relation to the unborn child
It will be incredibly difficult to prosecute a partner who has coerced a woman to abort her child if the act of that abortion itself is no longer a crime. What's more, I suspect these laws will result in some tragic cases of women aborting babies at home alone, with the babies surviving for some hours after birth or being terribly injured. The woman herself will risk life-threatening complications like postpartum haemorrhage. At which point the cry will understandably go out for such procedures to take place under supervision without medics being criminalised either – making legal time limits redundant.
It is not often that I cannot sleep for fear of the consequences of what parliament has done. However, this week I have lain awake imagining the horror of those situations, yearning for the protection of those tiny bodies and traumatised women.
I noticed in the debate that there was a near total absence of any discussion of morality in relation to the unborn child. In my speech, I pointed out the inconvenient truth for proponents of decriminalisation, that abortion does not just involve one body – it involves two. I hold the seemingly controversial view that those unborn children deserve recognition in this debate. I was outnumbered, so it is now over to the House of Lords, where I hope the decriminalisation amendment receives the scrutiny it failed to get in the Commons.
It will be interesting to see now whether the Lords Spiritual, including the Church of England's senior leadership, choose to engage in its consequences. I find it curious that, at least publicly, there is no evidence that ahead of these votes there was any vigorous debate or soul searching in the upper echelons of the Church. After the vote, a Church House spokesman came out to say that women ought not to be criminalised but that this very significant change was 'worrying'. In the vacuum, a call went out from Revd Richard Bastable, Vicar of St Luke's, Hammersmith, for clergy to message him if they wished to sign up to a more robust position. Published a couple of days on, his letter attracted the signatures of several bishops and made clear that clergy were troubled by the amendment and want to see it modified. But it appears to be the view of a faction rather than officially sanctioned.
Which returns me to my original search – the spark, I suppose, to a deeper question I have been subconsciously asking about the Church of England's role in public life in recent years. My hunt led me to the Church's public statement that the Archbishop of Canterbury is there to 'give a voice to people who are easily ignored by the powerful' and set out what Christianity has to say about the big questions we all face.
When challenged by MPs on his political interventions, Archbishop Welby previously said in this magazine: 'It goes so far in history, basically back to Thomas Becket. Don't be political means be political, but not in a way I don't like.' I think Welby was missing the point. If the Church is going to move into the arena of elected politicians, it surely ought not to vacate the spiritual and moral space that gave cause for its privileged voice in the first place.
I confess that, as a politician, I have watched with much irritation as the Church leadership has made its pronouncements on difficult government decisions with enthusiastic piety and moral surety. I am tempted to observe in return that there seems not to be equivalent enthusiasm to get stuck in on the tricky life and death stuff that it once regarded as central to its mission. I am sure much of that reticence derives from a genuine desire to empathise and refrain from casting judgement, but it is a choice nonetheless – one which calls into question the Church leadership's stated purpose to give voice to the voiceless.
If whomever is appointed as the new Archbishop of Canterbury makes that same choice – intervening and emoting over tough political choices while ducking tougher moral ones – the Church may find even its supporters begin to question its privilege.