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Why is it taking so long to find an Archbishop of Canterbury?

The Anglican tortoise and the Catholic hare.

Graham is the Director of the Centre for Cultural Witness and a former Bishop of Kensington.

An archbishop raises a crown about the head of King Charles.
An archbishop in action at the 2024 Coronation.

It seems the Roman Catholics have put the Anglicans to shame by the speed with which they have managed to appoint a new Pope. Pope Francis died on Easter Monday, 21 April. Pope Leo was elected on the 8 May. Seventeen days. Pretty impressive. Very few large corporations would replace a CEO in that time, or nations elect a new leader.  

Justin Welby, however, resigned on the 12 November 2024. We won't know the name of his successor until the autumn, and that person won't start in place until the spring of 2026. Well over a year.  

The Church of England is playing the tortoise while the Roman Catholics are acting the hare. 

So why is it taking so long? Is this just fusty Anglican bureaucracy? A depressing instance of Anglicans taking ages over everything, whether sorting out our divisions over sexuality or choosing a new Archbishop? 

As always, there is more to this than meets the eye.  

The first thing to say is, of course, that events took everyone by surprise. Justin Welby would have had to retire before his 70th birthday in January 2026, and the assumption had been that he would announce the date at some point before then. A process was already in place to make the appointment so that a successor could be named before he departed and start soon after, as usually happens. No-one foresaw the events that led to Welby’s surprise resignation over his handling of the abuse committed by John Smyth, outlined in the Makin Review. In the usual course of things, there would have been a relatively smooth handover. What we have is unprecedented – a year with no Archbishop of Canterbury at all.  

There is, of course, the shambles at the Canterbury end, where the diocese has taken three abortive goes at electing their representatives for the body that makes the appointment, the Crown Nominations Commission. More on that here, but even that has not had a significant effect on the timetable, which is following its predicted course, despite bumps along the way. 

Even so, many will say, could the system not have been hurried up? Maybe so, and it might have been wise to find ways to hasten the process a little, but the more fundamental answer is that’s not the way the Church of England works and never has.  

The biggest reason is that the Church of England and the Roman Catholic churches have different understandings of what the Church is and how it is governed. In short, the Archbishop of Canterbury is not the Anglican equivalent of a Pope. 

Back in the days of the English Reformation, after Henry VIII’s ego-driven separation from Rome, which enabled him to divorce his wife who was unable to give him a male heir, and marry the younger and prettier Anne Boleyn, the English church found a kind of settlement under Queen Elizabeth I, several generations later. This proposed that the ‘Supreme Governor’ of the Church of England was not to be the Archbishop of Canterbury but the Monarch. It was a way of expressing the idea that the Church of England is the Church of the people of England. It was the people of England at prayer. ‘We hold,' said Richard Hooker, the great architect of this vision, ‘that… there is not any man of the Church of England but the same man is also a member of the commonwealth.’ 

If you are a citizen of England, you have a right to be also part of the Church of England – to have your children baptised (once the vicar is sure you know what you’re letting yourself and your child in for), your marriage solemnised, and your body buried in the national church. The Church - although in a local sense is gathered group of Christians who attend public worship - exists for the people of England, whether or not they go to church regularly or not. 

Because the Church of England is the church of the people of England, a much larger group of people need to be involved when an Archbishop of Canterbury is chosen. So far, there has been a wide period of consultation, involving the remarkable figure of 11,000 people who have given input – far more than most consultations of this kind. Moreover, the group that appoints the Archbishop is made up, not just of bishops, but lay people, priests, men, women, people representing the diocese of Canterbury, five representatives of the global Anglican Communion, others representing the national Church and so on.  

The Church of England in that sense, is no respecter of persons, and refuses to treat the Archbishop as a Pope or a CEO.

For Roman Catholics, the church centres much more around its bishops. So, when it comes to choosing their leader, it makes sense to simply put all the cardinals (the most senior figures in the Catholic Church) in a room until they come up with a name from among themselves. Anglicans have a much longer, messier, more democratic process. It is not an election by a majority vote from a small electorate quickly convened, choosing among themselves, but a process of listening to a wide range of voices, both inside and outside the church.  

Because he is not a pope, the Archbishop of Canterbury is in one sense, just another bishop (the next one may be a woman, but all Archbishops so far have been men). Yes of course, he’s an Archbishop, so higher profile than the others, but he is nonetheless a bishop who takes his place among the other bishops of the CofE. Archbishops of Canterbury are regarded with respect and honour by other CofE bishops and Archbishops around the worldwide Anglican Communion, as the (Arch)bishop of the first ‘Anglican’ church – Canterbury. Yet they have no legal jurisdiction at all outside England – or even outside their own Province of Canterbury in the southern half of England. He is not the ‘spiritual leader’ of Anglicans all over the world, like the Pope is for Roman Catholics.  

As such, to put it bluntly, his appointment must take its turn among all the others in the queue. The Crown Nominations Commission is made up of people for whom this is not their day job, who give their spare time to it, and who have a programme of episcopal appointments to be made - the next in the queue are St Edmundsbury & Ipswich and then Worcester.  Canterbury has to take its turn. To enable this one to jump the queue would be saying something that Anglicans have never said - that this role is much more important than any of the others and must be given special treatment. The Church of England in that sense, is no respecter of persons, and refuses to treat the Archbishop as a Pope or a CEO, without whom the church would fall apart. 

The reason the Church of England can survive without an Archbishop of Canterbury for a while, is because its life is not dependent on a central figure, a charismatic leader, or a head office which issues instructions for all the branches to obediently follow. That may work in McDonalds but doesn’t work in the Church of England. The life of the Church of England is in its parishes and dioceses, which carry on doing their thing, even when an Archbishop of Canterbury is not available.  

Of course, it might have been possible to speed it up a little. We have missed having an Archbishop speaking in to public life and providing a lead at the national level. But there are good reasons for taking time. And it’s not just inefficiency – it’s because the Church is made up of ordinary Christians, who all deserve a say – and that takes time.  

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Are you a narcissist?

We all have a little bit of narcissism in us – the question is whether we’re a Moses or an Iago
An Elizabethan man holds a dagger up while grinning.
Kenneth Brannagh's Iago in the 1995 film of Othello.
Sony Pictures.

Is everyone a narcissist these days? It sometimes feels so. Google Trends data shows an eleven-fold increase in searches for “narcissism” between 2010 and 2023, and the term has become a social media buzzword. Online quizzes asking, “Am I a narcissist?” are everywhere, offering dubious self-diagnosis at the click of a button. Genuine Narcissistic Personality Disorder, however, is complex and painful – especially for those in close relationships with someone who cannot acknowledge the harm that they are able to cause or feel any sense of remorse. Narcissus, in Greek mythology, was a handsome young man who was cursed to fall in love with his own reflection, but it was not until the early 20th century that the term “narcissism” was then picked up by the emerging field of psychoanalysis. Initially, Sigmund Freud adopted it in a non-pejorative way to describe the stage in child development when an infant is aware only of their own need for love and attention. Eventually, as that infant grows into a child it begins to experiment with showing others love and attention, and if surrounded by the right relationships, the child learns that love can be reciprocal – a back-and-forth pattern of give and take. Freud wrote:  

“Loving, then, contributes to the lowering of self‑regard. Having one’s love returned, however, restores one’s self‑regard and replenishes one’s narcissism.”  

In its healthiest form, narcissism reflects a positive sense of self – a recognition of one’s own needs and a reasonable desire for them to be met, whilst also knowing that we must give of ourselves, again within reason, to meet the needs of others. In this sense, yes, we are all a little bit of a narcissist. It is only occasionally, most commonly when the early bond between a child and their caregivers is inconsistent or unstable, that this self-focus can become problematically distorted, sometimes leading to a personality disorder. For such a person, a constant hunger for attention and affirmation, often combined with a lack of empathy or a tendency to use empathy as a means to manipulate others, leads to a life of take-take-take; one which can cause significant harm to others and ultimately to themselves.  

Estimates for Narcissistic Personality Disorder are that it affects about one to two per cent of the population, a number which is intriguingly high. The unfortunate news is that true Narcissistic Personality Disorder is notoriously difficult to treat, precisely because key tenets of the condition include a lack of self-awareness and an overinflated sense of self belief. The classic response of the one with Narcissistic Personality Disorder is, of course, “How dare my therapist say that I am a narcissist? They must be the problem!” 

However, much more prevalent are what might be called “sub-clinical narcissists” – people who act selfishly, arrogantly, or manipulatively, influencing others to conform to their desires. We all know one or more of those – sometimes we meet one when we look in the mirror. Whilst this may make us feel pretty rotten, whether we are the giver or the receiver of such treatment, it does not always warrant a clinical intervention. Even so, it can still be extremely difficult to process how and why human narcissistic tendencies are able to cause others so much pain. If, as Freud proposes, a certain degree of narcissism is hardwired into human nature, what can we do about its tendency to evil?  

In Shakespeare’s tragedy Othello, the character of Iago is a master manipulator who displays all the cold-hearted indifference of a true narcissist. Early in Act 1 he expresses his indignation that he has been passed over for promotion. Firmly convinced of his own superiority, he slyly boasts that he will play a false self to Othello, feigning loyalty for his own ends and stating: “I am not what I am.”  

These words are a clever and rather chilling inversion of a famous phrase from the Bible. In the story of the Exodus, God meets with Moses in the form of a burning bush, and when Moses asks for the name of God a voice replies: “I am what I am.” As Moses stands before God, barefoot and awestruck, he hears that enigmatic statement and is forced to confront the question of who he truly is – an ashamed murderer, a fugitive, a short-tempered man of slow speech but hasty acts. Moses acknowledges all these awkward truths about himself and declares himself wholly unfit to be called by God as a leader. Yet God uses Moses anyway, and at the end of his life, Moses dies a celebrated hero – a deliverer who is mourned by all his people.  

Not so Iago. As the tale of Othello draws to its tragic close, Iago is wounded, arrested and escorted from the stage. The audience knows that he has been condemned to execution, but unlike pretty much every other character in that fateful final scene, Iago’s death does not take place onstage. He is simply removed, dismissed from everybody’s notice – a narcissist’s worst nightmare.  

One can see the crucial difference between Moses and Iago – whilst Moses is concerned that his own flawed nature makes him unfit to be become a great leader, Iago is driven to grasp at leadership by a belief in his own grandiosity and acts vengefully when passed over. Right to the end, Iago expresses not one word of self-doubt or regret for his actions. Indeed, he refuses to account for himself at all. “Demand me nothing,” he says at the close; “What you know, you know.” 

Seemingly, the problem of narcissism’s tendency towards evil lies not in actions, but in methods of self-evaluation. While we all make regrettable mistakes, and sometimes it can be hard to judge the difference between unreasonable selfishness and reasonable self-preservation, the true narcissist is afraid to explain themselves, unwilling to bear the judgement of outside scrutiny. The narcissist will look only in the mirror.  

But whereas a mirror only reflects light, a burning bush produces it. In the end, the resources of the Christian tradition do not simply diagnose our narcissism, they offer us a way through it. They offer an outside perspective from which we can truly evaluate our own actions – a light that shines through the mirror.  

If you have ever clicked the link for the online quiz, or been tempted to, then that is an encouraging sign of willingness to be open to outside scrutiny. But of all things, would we really want to trust only human voices, especially the unknown and unknowable voices of the internet, as an authoritative arbiter? If narcissism is so inherent to human nature, it logically takes something higher and brighter than our fellow human beings to really bring it into the light. But in any case, you can save yourself the time of completing that dubious online diagnostic quiz since the whole enterprise can be summed up in just one question:  

Have you ever wondered if you have Narcissistic Personality Disorder? If the answer is yes, you probably do not. So demand yourself nothing, what you know you know.  

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Since Spring 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,500 articles. All for free. 
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If you enjoy Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?
 
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