The Darlington Nurses and the Defence of Women’s Dignity

It began, as many moral crises do, with something small — a room, a rule, and a refusal to be silent. At Darlington Memorial Hospital in County Durham, a group of women working in one of Britain’s most trusted public institutions found that the ordinary expectation of modesty and safety could no longer be taken for granted. When a male colleague identifying as female began to use the women’s changing room — despite confirming that he was not taking hormones and was trying to conceive a child with his girlfriend — the women raised concerns. They did not call for punishment, only for privacy. But management’s response was to order them to undergo “re-education,” to expand their “mindset” and become more “inclusive.”¹

When twenty-six nurses signed a collective letter to human resources, they were removed from their own changing area and assigned to a converted office that opened directly onto a public corridor. The new space, they said, was degrading, exposed, and humiliating. One of the nurses, a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, later described suffering panic attacks at the thought of changing in front of a biological male.² What began as a question of policy soon became a question of conscience.

The women sought help from the Christian Legal Centre, which began representing them in what is now an active employment tribunal case alleging harassment, indirect discrimination, and breach of workplace safety regulations.³ Their stand quickly drew public sympathy as ordinary people recognised in their plight something emblematic of a wider unease: the steady dismantling of boundaries once considered self-evident — between man and woman, truth and fiction, reality and ideology.

The nurses’ case inspired a petition launched by CitizenGO under the title Stand with Darlington Nurses for Safe Spaces for Women.⁴ The petition calls for government and NHS leaders to reaffirm women’s legal right to single-sex changing rooms and toilets, grounded in biological sex rather than subjective identity. By the end of 2024, nearly 50,000 people had signed, transforming what began as a local workplace dispute into a national cause.⁵ It stands now as a rallying point for those who refuse to see womanhood reduced to a feeling or belief.

On 28 October 2024, representatives of the nurses met with Health Secretary Wes Streeting in Whitehall to deliver the petition in person. Streeting, though a Labour minister, spoke with unexpected candour. “Sex is biological,” he said, “and single-sex spaces matter.”⁶ It was a rare moment in British politics — an acknowledgment that compassion cannot be divorced from truth. Yet it also highlighted the contradiction now at the heart of public policy: the attempt to uphold women’s rights while redefining what a woman is.

At issue is not mere etiquette but the law itself. Under the Equality Act 2010, “sex” and “gender reassignment” are both protected characteristics. NHS trusts have adopted internal policies allowing employees to use the facilities of their chosen gender identity, claiming to act in compliance with equality duties. Yet the same law allows for single-sex services and spaces “if it is a proportionate means of achieving a legitimate aim.”⁷ Recent judgments — including rulings cited by the Supreme Court and the Scottish appeals process — have reaffirmed that the term “woman” in legislation refers to biological sex, not self-identification.⁸ The contradiction, therefore, lies not in the law but in its misapplication.

For the Darlington nurses, this is not an abstract legal puzzle but a daily moral trial. They have spoken of losing faith in their profession’s leadership, of being mocked as “bigots,” and of finding solace only in the solidarity of their colleagues and the prayers of strangers. Their testimony cuts through the euphemisms of officialdom: they are not asking for privilege, only for the restoration of common sense — that women should not be compelled to undress beside men, however they identify.

The Trust’s “Transitioning in the Workplace” policy, which first allowed the disputed access, remains under review.⁹ The Health and Safety Executive’s 1992 regulations require employers to provide separate facilities for men and women unless private single cubicles are available.¹⁰ Yet such statutory safeguards mean little when administrators, afraid of controversy, interpret every protest as prejudice. In this sense, the Darlington affair reveals more than one institution’s confusion; it exposes the moral cowardice of a nation that no longer believes it may distinguish between truth and error without apology.

The Christian understanding of the body as a revelation of divine order offers an antidote to such confusion. “Male and female He created them” (Gen 1:27) is not a social construct but a statement of ontology. From this truth flow the principles of modesty, privacy, and respect — not as concessions to fragility but as protections of human dignity. A society that denies these foundations cannot long defend the vulnerable, for it loses the very language of protection. When the nurses of Darlington refused to be silent, they acted not merely as employees defending workplace rights, but as witnesses to a deeper reality: that compassion divorced from truth becomes cruelty disguised as care.

To sign the petition in solidarity with these women is not an act of partisanship, but of conscience. It is a declaration that biological truth and moral integrity are not negotiable, that every woman deserves safety and dignity in her workplace, and that society must not sacrifice reality to ideology. The quiet courage of these nurses invites each of us to stand with them — for when truth is silenced in the hospital, it will soon be silenced everywhere.

In every age there are those who stand quietly against the prevailing wind, reminding the world that conscience still breathes beneath the bureaucracy. The Darlington nurses did not seek fame, yet their steadfastness has compelled both politicians and citizens to confront the consequences of ideological conformity. Whether their legal case succeeds or fails, their example has already begun to restore moral clarity. For in defending the meaning of womanhood, they have defended the very notion that truth can still be spoken without fear.


  1. Christian Concern, Safe Spaces for Women: Nurses Meet with Health Secretary, 2024.
  2. Christian Concern, Darlington Nurses Given “Dehumanising” Changing Room, 2024.
  3. Christian Legal Centre, Case File: Darlington Nurses, 2024.
  4. CitizenGO, Stand with Darlington Nurses for Safe Spaces for Women, accessed October 2025.
  5. Christian Concern, Safe Spaces for Women: Nurses Meet with Health Secretary, 2024.
  6. Ibid.
  7. Equality Act 2010, c. 15, Schedule 3, Part 7, s. 26.
  8. For Women Scotland v Scottish Ministers [2022] CSIH 4; Re Sex Matters [2023] UKSC 33.
  9. The Times, “NHS Trust Policy Allowed Biological Men to Use Women’s Changing Room,” 2 Nov 2024.
  10. Workplace (Health, Safety and Welfare) Regulations 1992, SI 1992/3004, Reg. 20.

The Orphaned Altar: On the Crisis of Episcopal Fatherhood

By the Archbishop of Selsey

A Silent Crisis Beneath the Surface
There are moments in the Church’s history when the gravest crises are not those proclaimed in thunder from the pulpits or the decrees of Rome, but those suffered in silence by her sons. Such is the case today, when many priests—those who once came to the altar aflame with the love of God—now minister beneath the shadow of a wounded fatherhood. Their suffering is seldom spoken of; yet it gnaws at the heart of the Church. It is the hidden trial of a generation of priests orphaned not by heresy or persecution, but by the cold neglect of their spiritual fathers.

The crisis of fatherhood—so visible in society, where fathers have abdicated responsibility for their children—has entered the sanctuary. Bishops, once spiritual patriarchs who guided their clergy as sons, have become administrators, functionaries, and managers of decline. Their governance too often resembles the bureaucracy of a corporation rather than the heart of a father. The result is an orphaned presbyterate: weary, mistrustful, and fearful. What begins as administrative efficiency ends as spiritual sterility.

The Fatherhood that Gives Life
The priesthood, by its nature, is relational. Every priest must stand both in persona Christi and sub episcopo, in filial obedience to his bishop as to a father in Christ. The bishop’s ring signifies not only governance but spousal fidelity to the Church and paternal love for his priests. St. Ignatius of Antioch wrote, “Where the bishop is, there is the Church”¹—yet he also meant that where the bishop is not father, the Church withers into institution.

In the golden age of the Fathers, bishops were shepherds whose charity bound together the presbyterate and flock in a single spirit. St. Gregory the Great described the bishop as “a watchman set upon the walls of Israel”², one who guards both the purity of doctrine and the souls of those under his care. The bishop’s first duty was not strategy but sanctity. He was to pour himself out for his priests, that they might pour themselves out for their people.

But today, that supernatural fatherhood is often eclipsed by managerial pragmatism. Meetings replace mentorship; compliance replaces counsel; fear replaces fraternity. Many priests now dread a summons to the chancery more than the final judgment. They no longer expect paternal concern, only procedural rebuke. In such a climate, holiness becomes private heroism rather than shared pursuit.

The Withering of Fraternal Communion
The health of the Church depends not on policies but on love. When bishops cease to love their priests, when priests no longer feel the warmth of fatherly affection, the supernatural life of the Church begins to bleed away. The priest, deprived of affirmation and guidance, turns inward. Some grow cautious, preaching only what offends no one. Others grow hardened, their zeal dulled by cynicism. Still others, desiring escape, fill their lives with distractions and comforts.

In earlier centuries, the bishop’s household was a school of holiness. Priests were formed by the example of their prelate’s prayer, fasting, and simplicity. But in many dioceses today, bishops live in splendid isolation, surrounded not by brothers but by lawyers, secretaries, and consultants. The house of prayer has become an office; the mitre, a badge of status. The faithful look on, bewildered, while the priests beneath such leadership struggle to remember why they first left all to follow Christ.

The Holy Curé of Ars laboured eighteen hours a day, hearing confessions and offering the Holy Sacrifice with tears. His sanctity rebuilt a nation scarred by revolution. Yet he would be dismissed in many modern dioceses as “too pious,” “too rigid,” or “insufficiently pastoral.” His zeal is out of fashion because the supernatural has been eclipsed by the sociological. Bishops speak of accompaniment but rarely of conversion; of mercy but seldom of repentance. They wish to smell like the sheep, yet too often smell only of politics.

Bureaucracy and the Eclipse of the Supernatural
One of the great deceptions of our time is to confuse activity with vitality. Endless consultations, synodal reports, and policy documents give the illusion of motion while the soul of the Church languishes. The very structures designed to support priests have become labyrinths of paperwork. The priest who once found solace in his bishop’s blessing now finds himself mired in compliance forms and risk assessments.

It is not administration that kills, but the substitution of administration for fatherhood. When the shepherd delegates the care of souls to committees, his priests are left to fend for themselves. “Feed my sheep,” said the Lord to Peter³—not “survey them,” nor “appoint a task force.” Yet many priests live as though their father has forgotten those words. The Church cannot be governed as a corporation without ceasing to be a family.

The Psychological and Spiritual Toll
Behind the statistics of declining vocations lies a deeper tragedy. Priests today are among the loneliest men in society. Studies show widespread distrust between clergy and bishops⁴; many confess to isolation, anxiety, and fear of reprisal. The priest who preaches the moral law risks complaint; the one who maintains reverence in the liturgy risks accusation of rigidity. In such conditions, virtue becomes suspect and mediocrity safe.

Some priests respond with stoic endurance; others withdraw into a safe professionalism that avoids controversy but also avoids conversion. A few, deprived of spiritual fatherhood, lose themselves to the very world they were ordained to sanctify. Thus the bishop’s failure to father becomes the devil’s victory twice over—first by silencing truth, then by corrupting its messenger.

A Mirror of the World’s Fatherlessness
The collapse of paternal identity among bishops mirrors the world’s wider loss of fatherhood. The same cultural forces that have made earthly fathers absent, fearful, or effeminate have also weakened spiritual fathers. Many bishops, trained in the post-conciliar decades of experimentation and ambiguity, have never known genuine paternal formation themselves. They were not taught to command with love, nor to love with authority. They are products of a therapeutic age that mistrusts both discipline and sacrifice.

And yet the Church can no more survive without fathers than a family can. When bishops cease to be fathers, priests become orphans, and the faithful—children of those priests—grow rootless. The contagion of fatherlessness spreads from chancery to rectory, from rectory to home, until the very idea of authority is despised. The devil, who hates the name “Father,” rejoices in such a hierarchy.

The Patristic Measure of True Shepherds
The Fathers of the Church would scarcely recognize many of today’s episcopal priorities. St. Cyprian taught that a bishop must be “united in heart with his priests, sharing their labours, their tears, and their dangers”⁵. St. John Chrysostom warned that the bishop who neglects his clergy commits a sin against the Body of Christ. St. Gregory Nazianzen resigned his see rather than become a mere functionary, declaring that “to lead others, one must first be purified oneself.”

This is the pattern of episcopal life the Church once held up as ideal: ascetical, paternal, prophetic. The bishop was not an administrator of budgets but a man of prayer, whose tears could baptize a diocese. When such men led, their priests followed willingly—even unto martyrdom. The vitality of the early Church sprang not from programs but from the living transmission of holiness.

The Roots of Renewal
The renewal of the priesthood will not begin in offices or conferences. It will begin when bishops again become fathers, and priests sons. True fatherhood does not flatter; it corrects, encourages, and forgives. It does not isolate; it draws near. It does not fear holiness in its sons; it rejoices in it. Bishops who imitate Christ the Good Shepherd will attract vocations even in desolate times, because love always begets life.

What can the faithful do in the meantime? First, pray and fast for priests and bishops. The Rosary is no longer optional in this war for souls. Offer reparation for the sins of shepherds, but also for their wounds. Many bishops act as they do because they have forgotten that they, too, were once priests trembling at the altar. Pray that they may recover the simplicity of their first Mass.

Second, give your priests the warmth of genuine friendship. Invite them into your homes. Encourage them when they preach the truth. Write to them when they are maligned. Many have never heard a layman say, “Father, your priesthood has changed my life.” Such words can rekindle hope more powerfully than any policy.

Finally, resist the temptation to despair. The priesthood belongs to Christ, not to bureaucrats. The same Lord who called Peter from his nets can still raise up saints from the ruins of clericalism. When the hierarchy forgets the Cross, God raises prophets from the laity. The Church’s renewal will come not from strategy but from sanctity.

The Model of the Crucified Father
Christ on the Cross is the image of every true bishop: arms outstretched, heart pierced, blood spent for his children. In Him, authority and love are one. The world can imitate compassion, but it cannot imitate Calvary. It is there that spiritual fatherhood finds its meaning—not in power, but in sacrifice. The bishop who forgets this becomes an official; the priest who forgets it becomes a hireling.

When bishops once again weep for their priests, and priests once again lay down their lives for their flocks, the Church will bloom even in the desert. Until then, we live in the long Lent of ecclesial fatherlessness. Yet even now, grace is not absent. Among the ruins, there are still fathers who love and sons who obey, still altars where the Lamb is offered in purity and faith. In that hidden fidelity, the Church endures.

A Call to Courage and Contrition
Every bishop should kneel before his priests and ask himself: “Do they see in me the face of Christ? Do they hear in my words the voice of a father?” If the answer is uncertain, repentance is the only path forward. The episcopal palace must again become a house of prayer. The miter must be exchanged for the towel of the servant. The shepherd must rediscover the smell not only of the sheep but of the Cross.

The world’s night grows darker, and the Church must shine the brighter. Our age does not need bishops who blend into the world’s noise, but men who bear within themselves the stillness of Gethsemane. Priests will find their courage again when they see courage on the cathedra; they will become holy when holiness is enthroned above them.

Conclusion: Hope Through Paternal Renewal
The renewal of the Church will not come from the top down, nor from the bottom up, but from heart to heart—from father to son. When bishops once more speak to their priests as fathers, when priests rediscover in their bishop the image of Christ, the channels of grace will open again. And from that grace will flow the courage to confront the world’s darkness with divine charity.

Let us therefore pray not for new strategies but for new hearts: hearts of fathers, hearts of sons, hearts conformed to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, who is both Priest and Victim, Shepherd and Lamb. Then the orphaned priests of our time will cease to wander, and the Church will once more be known not for her structures, but for her sanctity.


  1. St. Ignatius of Antioch, Letter to the Smyrnaeans, 8:1.
  2. St. Gregory the Great, Regula Pastoralis (Book II, ch. 4).
  3. John 21:17.
  4. The Catholic Project, Catholic University of America, Survey of American Catholic Priests (2022).
  5. St. Cyprian of Carthage, De Ecclesiae Catholicae Unitate, 5.

The Mute Martyrs: Spain, Truth, and the Triumph of Conscience

By the Archbishop of Selsey

When the Provincial Court of Málaga acquitted two Catholic priests and a journalist accused of “hate speech” for criticising radical Islam, it did more than correct a miscarriage of justice. It restored, if only momentarily, a flicker of sanity to a Europe increasingly afraid of its own Christian conscience.

The Crime of Speaking Clearly
Fr Custodio Ballester and Fr Jesús Calvo were not zealots of intolerance, but witnesses to truth. Their supposed crime was to say aloud what many silently know: that ideologies rooted in coercion and violence cannot be reconciled with divine charity or human freedom.¹ For this they were denounced by the Association of Muslims Against Islamophobia and dragged through the courts for nearly a decade.

The priests were accused of violating Article 510 of the Spanish Penal Code, which criminalises the incitement of hatred.² Yet their statements, though forthright, did not call for violence or discrimination; they called for repentance and discernment. To confuse the two is to make law itself a servant of error.

In his article The Impossible Dialogue with Islam, Ballester did not vilify Muslims; he questioned the ideology that inspires persecution of Christians in the Middle East and suppression of conscience in Europe.³ For this, he was first condemned by a lower court and only later vindicated by a higher one. How telling that in modern Spain, the plea for reasoned dialogue is branded “hate,” while genuine intolerance parades as virtue.

The Dictatorship of Relativism
The court’s ruling on 20 October 2025 rightly concluded that “not even intolerant or offensive speech loses protection if it does not promote hatred or violence.”⁴ This principle—so obvious in the light of natural law—has become controversial in a Europe that prizes sensitivity above truth. The acquittal is therefore not only legal but moral: it re-affirms the right to speak the truth even when the world calls it unkind.

We are witnessing what Pope Benedict XVI called a “dictatorship of relativism”⁵—an order where every conviction must apologise for existing, and every dogma must disguise itself as dialogue. Such relativism disarms the Church, replacing her bold confession with timid sentiment. When the priest is forbidden to name evil, society forgets how to distinguish it.

Freedom Ordered to Truth
True freedom of speech is not the liberty to wound, but the liberty to warn. Christian charity requires clarity; silence in the face of error is not compassion but complicity. The Málaga court, perhaps unwittingly, has upheld a profoundly Catholic truth: that freedom detached from truth is licence, but freedom exercised for truth is holiness.

Fr Ballester, speaking outside the courthouse, declared: “If proclaiming the Gospel in public becomes illegal, Spain will cease to be the land of martyrs and become the land of the mute.”⁶ His words recall the courage of St Vincent Ferrer and St John of Ávila, who also faced powers that feared the light of truth. The question before modern Europe is the same: shall we suffer to speak, or consent to be silent?

A Call to Christian Witness
The outcome in Málaga should strengthen every Christian who dares to defend faith and reason in public life. It proves that truth can still be spoken, even when costly. Yet the length and bitterness of the trial remind us that the battle is not legal but spiritual. What is on trial in our age is not merely expression—it is the Word Himself, “made flesh and dwelling among us.”⁷

When laws of “tolerance” are turned against the Gospel, Christians must respond not with resentment, but with steadfastness. Our answer must be witness. For Christ has told us: “The truth shall make you free.”⁸ But He did not say it would make us safe.

Nuntiatoria article for background


Footnotes
¹ “Freedom of speech and religion in play as Spanish priest prosecuted for denouncing radical Islam,” Catholic World Report, 3 Oct 2025.
² Código Penal de España, art. 510 (Incitación al odio).
³ Fr Custodio Ballester, El diálogo imposible con el Islam, 2017.
⁴ “Spanish court acquits priests and journalist accused of hate crime for criticising radical Islam,” Catholic Herald, 20 Oct 2025.
⁵ Pope Benedict XVI, Homily at the Pro Eligendo Pontifice Mass, 18 April 2005.
⁶ Abogados Cristianos press statement, Málaga, 20 Oct 2025.
⁷ John 1:14.
⁸ John 8:32.

A Primer for Catholic Parents: The Principles of Catholic Teaching on “Sex Education”

By the Archbishop of Selsey

The Parental Duty in Catholic Education
When Catholic parents entrust their children to schools established by the Church, they rightly expect that the instruction provided will be faithful to Catholic doctrine. This duty extends not only to the moral content of teaching but also to the subjects taught. The Church has always upheld a clear and comprehensive body of doctrine, transmitted from the apostles, against which mere human theories or social trends hold no weight. Yet in many Catholic schools today, especially in the West, civil authorities have pressured educational institutions to adopt programmes of so-called “sex education” that conflict with both divine and natural law.

The Primary Educators of the Child
It is indeed necessary that children, at an appropriate time, be instructed about the realities of human reproduction and the moral obligations that accompany these truths. However, the responsibility for this instruction belongs to parents alone. This duty is given directly by God and cannot be rightfully taken over by the state, by educators, or even by bishops. Parents may, for practical reasons, delegate certain aspects of education—such as mathematics or science—to others who possess the requisite expertise, but this delegation always proceeds from the authority of the parents and remains under their supervision.¹

The Limits of Delegation
The Church teaches that parents, strengthened by the grace of the sacrament of marriage, have the responsibility and privilege of evangelising their children and forming them in virtue.² Teachers, priests, and catechists share in this mission only insofar as parents freely authorise them to assist in what properly belongs to the family. Certain subjects—such as the training in personal virtue, purity, and moral discernment—cannot be delegated. The state may require that citizens be educated for civic duties, but its jurisdiction ends where the intimate and moral formation of the child begins.

The Superiority of the Family over the State
The Church firmly rejects any attempt by governments to replace or control parental authority. Leo XIII warns that when the state “sets aside the parent and sets up a State supervision,” it violates natural justice and destroys the structure of the home.³ The Catechism reminds us that the family is the primary school of solidarity and virtue, and that parents must protect their children from “compromising and degrading influences.”⁴ Indeed, Leo XIII affirms that the family is “a society very small, one must admit, but none the less a true society, and one older than any State.”⁵

This principle is also recognised in civil law. The European Convention on Human Rights explicitly protects the rights of parents to educate their children in conformity with their religious and philosophical convictions (Article 2, Protocol 1) and recognises family life as a sphere of privacy and protection against state interference (Article 8). These provisions reflect what the Church has always taught—that the family possesses rights anterior to the State, grounded in natural law and divine order.

Moral and Practical Formation
Parents naturally instruct their children in language, manners, modesty, and virtue. To neglect these areas or to surrender them to institutions is to abdicate a sacred trust. Among these responsibilities lies the duty to educate children about human reproduction and sexuality—matters that require both moral maturity and personal sensitivity. No classroom teacher can judge with precision the appropriate time or method for every child, since these depend upon individual development, temperament, and grace.

Cautions on Implementation and Parental Vigilance
In recent years, Catholic-approved Relationships and Sex Education (RSE) programmes—such as Life to the Full by Ten Ten Resources—have been widely adopted, reportedly by the majority of Catholic schools in England and Wales.⁶ While the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of England and Wales (CBCEW) and the Catholic Education Service (CES) state that RSE should promote chastity, dignity, and respect for life, traditional Catholic commentators have expressed serious concerns about the way such programmes are implemented.

Traditionalists, including the Society of Saint Pius X (UK District), warn that some RSE programmes risk undermining the parental role and present sexuality in an overly naturalistic or psychological manner, divorced from the supernatural virtue of chastity.⁷ They argue that materials sometimes prioritise “risk mitigation” or “self-esteem” over moral formation and fail to acknowledge humanity’s wounded nature and need for grace.⁸ The danger, they note, is that RSE lessons become exercises in information rather than formation—transmitting biological facts without grounding them in moral and theological truth.

Scholars examining traditional Catholic resistance to sex education likewise record the same concern: that Catholic schools, even when guided by Church documents, can inadvertently “supplant rather than supplement” the parental role.⁹ In mixed or collective settings, discussions of sexuality risk becoming occasions of curiosity or embarrassment rather than of virtue. The Church has consistently warned against “collective or public sex education” that ignores the discretion and modesty owed to each child’s stage of development.¹⁰

When RSE Becomes a Contravention of Parental Rights
In principle, Relationships and Sex Education can be delivered within Catholic schools without violating parental rights. However, in practice, such rights are frequently compromised or constrained by state mandates and the secular assumptions underlying modern educational frameworks.

RSE contravenes parental rights when it:

  • introduces sexual or moral content without parental knowledge or consent;
  • normalises behaviours contrary to Catholic moral teaching, such as contraception, cohabitation, or same-sex acts;
  • pre-empts parental judgment about a child’s readiness for such instruction;
  • or discourages withdrawal through social pressure or institutional policy.

These practices directly violate both the natural-law right of parents to form their children in moral truth and the legal right protected under Article 2 of Protocol 1 of the European Convention on Human Rights, which guarantees education in conformity with parental convictions.¹³ They also conflict with the Church’s explicit teaching that “it is incumbent on parents to strain every nerve to ward off such an outrage, and to hold exclusive authority to direct the education of their offspring.”¹²

The Poison of Naturalism
The recurring fault identified by traditional Catholic critics is the persistence of naturalism—the belief that moral formation can be achieved through reason or social conditioning alone, without recourse to divine grace. As Pius XI explains, such approaches “refuse to recognize the inborn weakness of human nature” and disregard “the means of grace” by which purity is preserved.¹¹ The Church teaches that because fallen man bears the wounds of original sin—ignorance, malice, weakness, and concupiscence—mere human instruction cannot preserve chastity without spiritual formation and sacramental life.

Parental Vigilance and Partnership
For this reason, parents must be vigilant regarding what is taught in the name of “Catholic education.” They should review all RSE materials used by their children’s schools, exercise their right to consultation and, if necessary, withdraw their children from any lessons inconsistent with Catholic doctrine. True partnership between home and school means not merely compliance or trust, but collaboration under parental authority. The right to know, to approve, and to object is not only a civil entitlement but a duty arising from the parental vocation.

A Call to Restore Catholic Integrity
Catholic schools must remember that they exist not to reflect the prevailing culture but to redeem it. To comply with statutory RSE obligations while neglecting the Catholic vision of purity and grace is to betray their mission. The teaching of human sexuality must always be presented as part of the call to holiness—never as a technical or social matter detached from faith. Where government policy or secular expectations conflict with divine law, Catholic schools must stand firm in fidelity to Christ and to the Magisterium.

As Pius XI urged, parents must “strain every nerve to ward off such an outrage” as the corruption of family life by worldly influences and to “hold exclusive authority to direct the education of their offspring.”¹² In our time, this vigilance is not merely prudent; it is indispensable to preserving innocence, virtue, and faith in the hearts of children.


¹ Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2225–2226.
² Ibid.
³ Leo XIII, Rerum Novarum, 14.
⁴ Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2224.
⁵ Leo XIII, Rerum Novarum, 12.
⁶ Catholic Education Service, “Relationships and Sex Education,” catholiceducation.org.uk.
⁷ Society of Saint Pius X (UK District), “Sex-Ed in Catholic Schools,” fsspx.uk.
⁸ B.R. Taylorian, The Opposition of Traditionalist Catholics to Sex Education (University of Central Lancashire, 2024).
⁹ Ibid.
¹⁰ Society of Saint Pius X, “The Catholic Attitude to Sex Education,” fsspx.uk.
¹¹ Pius XI, Divini Illius Magistri (1929), 65–67, citing Silvio Antoniano, On the Christian Education of Children (“The Golden Treatise”).
¹² Leo XIII, Sapientiae Christianae, 42.
¹³ European Convention on Human Rights, Article 2 of Protocol 1; Article 8.


From Ruin to Restoration: The Story of Catholic England

By the Archbishop of Selsey

On the feast of St Michael, 29 September 1850, Pope Pius IX restored diocesan bishops to England and Wales. Nicholas Wiseman, made Archbishop of Westminster, cried out with joy that Catholic England was “restored to its orbit in the ecclesiastical firmament.”¹ That orbit had been broken for nearly three centuries. The Church in England had lived in eclipse. It had been stripped of its altars, mocked by its enemies, betrayed by its rulers, and sustained only by the blood of martyrs and the courage of recusants. What was restored in 1850 had first been shattered in 1559, when Elizabeth’s Act of Supremacy and Act of Uniformity outlawed the ancient Mass.²

The parish altar, once the heart of every village, was torn down. Chalices were hidden in cupboards, vestments ripped for rags, bishops thrown into prison, priests exiled or compelled to conform. Families were dragged to court, fined into ruin for missing the new services. By the 1580s, a Catholic who refused to attend owed £20 each month, a fine calculated to destroy.³ In 1570, Pope Pius V excommunicated Elizabeth in the bull Regnans in Excelsis.⁴ To Catholics, it was a defence of truth; to the Crown, it was proof of treason. Parliament tightened the law still further. In 1585, the Act against Jesuits and Seminary Priests decreed that any priest ordained abroad who returned home should die as a traitor, and any layman who gave him shelter could share his fate.⁵ From that moment, the presence of a Catholic priest on English soil was a hanging crime.

Yet priests came anyway. Edmund Campion, Oxford’s golden boy, traded honours for a disguise and a chalice. He moved by night, heard confessions in barns, preached Christ in attics. Caught, racked in the Tower, he went to Tyburn in 1581 and told his judges they condemned their own ancestors. He died with calm defiance.⁶ Margaret Clitherow, the butcher’s wife of York, opened her home to fugitives. When arrested, she refused to plead, knowing that a trial would force her children to betray her. For this she was crushed to death beneath stones in 1586, thirty-three years old, pregnant, praying for her killers.⁷ Nicholas Owen, a Jesuit carpenter, turned wood and stone into weapons of survival. He built priest-holes so cunning that many remain hidden even now. He saved countless priests, then died under torture in 1606.⁸ More than three hundred Catholics were executed under Elizabeth and James, many for nothing more than saying Mass.⁹

For those who lived, recusancy meant a slow martyrdom. Fines ruined estates, laws excluded children from schools, informers prowled villages. Whole communities gathered at midnight for a furtive Mass, watchmen posted on the lanes. Rosaries were fingered in whispers, catechisms taught in secret, faith lived under constant threat. The Armada of 1588 convinced Protestants that Catholics were Spain’s agents. The Gunpowder Plot of 1605, the folly of a few, stained the entire community with treason. Bonfires and sermons each November renewed the suspicion. Later, Titus Oates’s fabricated Popish Plot in 1678 sent innocent men to the gallows.¹⁰ In 1780, the Gordon Riots set chapels aflame and mobs howled “No Popery!” in the streets.¹¹

Rome did not abandon England. In 1623, Pope Gregory XV appointed William Bishop as Vicar Apostolic, the first of a line of bishops without dioceses, shepherds of shadows who confirmed children in barns and ordained priests abroad.¹² And in London, Richard Challoner sustained the hidden faithful with his revision of the Douai-Rheims Bible and his Garden of the Soul (1740), a book of prayers that became the catechism of generations who had no parish or procession but carried the Church in their hearts.¹³

By the late eighteenth century the storm began to lift. The Relief Act of 1778 permitted Catholics to inherit land, though it provoked the Gordon Riots. The Act of 1791 allowed registered chapels and schools, still under scrutiny.¹⁴ At last the great Relief Act of 1829 swept away most remaining restrictions. Catholics could sit in Parliament, hold office, live as citizens.¹⁵ The long night of penal times was ending.

But the missionary structure of vicariates could no longer suffice. Catholics were multiplying, parishes thriving, schools spreading. In 1850, Pius IX restored the hierarchy by Universalis Ecclesiae. Thirteen dioceses were created, with Westminster as metropolitan. Wiseman, newly made cardinal, was appointed archbishop.¹⁶ Protestant England fumed. Lord John Russell railed against papal aggression in his “Durham Letter.”¹⁷ Effigies of the Pope were burned, and Parliament passed the Ecclesiastical Titles Act forbidding Catholic bishops to use Anglican titles.¹⁸ But the storm passed, and the hierarchy endured.

Catholic England was visible once more. Parishes multiplied, schools flourished, orders revived, Irish immigration filled churches, and converts like John Henry Newman gave prestige. Westminster Cathedral rose in 1895 as a sign of permanence.¹⁹ Through two world wars Catholics fought, served, and suffered alongside their countrymen. Chaplains brought the sacraments to the trenches, parishes endured the Blitz. By mid-century, Catholics were no longer outsiders. The old stigma of recusancy was gone.

But even as the Church grew strong in public, new storms rose from within. The Second Vatican Council (1962–65) sought renewal but brought upheaval. The traditional Latin Mass, the anchor through centuries of persecution, was replaced. Vocations fell. Catechesis faltered.²⁰ The faith that had survived rope and rack now waned in an age of comfort. Meanwhile Britain itself drifted into secularism, with laws liberalising abortion and divorce, reshaping family life, and eroding Christian morality. Later decades exalted ideologies hostile to Catholic truth. Attendance dwindled, parishes closed, vocations dried up. The diocesan structure restored in 1850 still stands, but the Church it governs is weakened.

And yet the story is not finished. The martyrs still speak. Campion from the scaffold, Clitherow from beneath the stones, Owen from the hidden chamber, Challoner from the secret chapel. They endured not only for their own age but for ours. Their sacrifice is our summons. The England that once outlawed the Mass now shrugs at it. Indifference has replaced hostility. But the demand remains the same: fidelity to Christ, whatever the cost.

If Catholic England was restored to its orbit in 1850, it must not drift into eclipse today. The Church that survived rope and rack must not surrender to compromise. Catholic England will be truly restored only if her children reclaim the fidelity of the martyrs, the patience of the confessors, the courage of the recusants. The dawn broke once before. It can break again. But only if the faith that endured the darkness burns as brightly in our own time.


  1. Nicholas Wiseman, Pastoral Letter from out of the Flaminian Gate (1850).
  2. Statutes of the Realm: 1 Eliz. I, c.1–2 (1559).
  3. 23 Eliz. I, c.1 (1581).
  4. Regnans in Excelsis (Pius V), 25 February 1570.
  5. 27 Eliz. I, c.2 (1585).
  6. Evelyn Waugh, Edmund Campion (1935).
  7. John Mush, A True Report of the Life and Martyrdom of Mrs Margaret Clitherow (1586).
  8. Michael Questier, Catholicism and Community in Early Modern England (2006).
  9. John Bossy, The English Catholic Community, 1570–1850 (1975).
  10. John Kenyon, The Popish Plot (1972).
  11. Norman Davies, The Isles: A History (1999).
  12. Catholic Encyclopedia, “England (Ecclesiastical History).”
  13. Richard Challoner, The Garden of the Soul (1740).
  14. 18 Geo. III, c.60 (1778); 31 Geo. III, c.32 (1791).
  15. 10 Geo. IV, c.7 (1829).
  16. Universalis Ecclesiae (Pius IX), 29 Sept. 1850.
  17. Lord John Russell, “Durham Letter,” Hansard (1850).
  18. 14 & 15 Vict., c.60 (1851).
  19. Owen Chadwick, The Spirit of the Oxford Movement (1990).
  20. Alcuin Reid, The Organic Development of the Liturgy (2004).

Ordinary Men, Dangerous Ideas

By the Archbishop of Selsey

When Adolf Eichmann sat in his glass booth in Jerusalem in 1962, the world expected to see a monster. What it saw instead was a man—quiet, bureaucratic, unremarkable. That was the horror.

The Holocaust survivor Yehiel Dinur, who collapsed in the courtroom at the sight of him, later explained that it was not memory that overwhelmed him. It was the realisation that Eichmann was not a demon. He was ordinary. Evil, he saw, does not always come with horns and fire. It comes in the form of ordinary men surrendering their consciences to dangerous ideas.¹

That truth is no less urgent today. The ideologies have changed, but the mechanics remain. Islamism sanctifies violence as obedience to God. Secular progressivism dehumanises its opponents as “fascists” and “threats to democracy.” Even within the Church, leaders have repeated this language, denouncing fellow Christians at the Unite the Kingdom March as extremists while remaining silent about the assassination of Charlie Kirk, slain in America only days before for his public witness.²

The double standard is glaring. A mother praying outside an abortion clinic is branded a terrorist; a jihadist who slaughters families in Israel is excused as a “resistance fighter.” A Christian patriot with a banner is shamed by bishops; a leftist agitator screaming hatred is praised as a prophet of progress. When truth is inverted this way, society reveals not only political corruption but spiritual sickness.

The danger lies not only in what is done but in how it is spoken. When political leaders label their opponents “Nazis” or “enemies of humanity,” when bishops rebuke the faithful more harshly than they rebuke the spirit of the age, the result is the same: people cease to be treated as neighbours. Once dehumanised, they can be silenced, punished, erased. History shows that the road to atrocity begins not with bullets but with words.³

Here the wisdom of the Church resounds. St Augustine warned that fallen man justifies his corruption unless restrained by grace.⁴ St Thomas Aquinas taught that a law contrary to the natural law is no law at all but a perversion.⁵ Pope Pius XI condemned Nazism as a false religion.⁶ Pope Leo XIII warned that when the authority of Christ is rejected, conscience loses its compass and men are “driven headlong into every excess of error and crime.”⁷ The ideologies of our time—whether Islamist or secular progressive—repeat this pattern. They make evil appear good, and they sanctify hatred in the name of righteousness.

But here is the paradox for us, my beloved brethren. We cannot resist evil by mirroring it. We cannot fight dehumanisation with more dehumanisation. We must oppose lies, yes, and boldly. We must defend truth, yes, and courageously. But we must do so without losing charity. For the Cross teaches us that Christ conquered not by hating His enemies, but by offering Himself for them. “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” (Lk 23:34)

This is the Church’s path: to proclaim truth without compromise and to live it with sacrificial love. To expose the rhetoric of the world for what it is—poisonous, dangerous, destructive—yet not to be poisoned by it ourselves. To recognise, even in our fiercest adversaries, men made in the image of God, and to call them to repentance.

Eichmann’s ordinariness is a warning: ideology can make any man capable of horror. The rhetoric of our age is a warning: dehumanisation always prepares the ground for persecution. And Christ’s Cross is the answer: only love, grounded in truth, can break the cycle.

We must not be naïve. The age of tolerance has revealed itself as an age of ideology, and Christians will be its scapegoats. But let us not tremble. We know the pattern. We have seen it before. And we know, too, that the final word is not the banality of evil, but the triumph of grace.

Ordinary men, dangerous ideas. That is the danger. Ordinary Christians, faithful to Christ. That is the hope.

For a more indepth presentation visit Nuntiatoria.org


Footnotes
¹ Yehiel Dinur, interview with Mike Wallace, 60 Minutes (CBS News, 1979).
² Reports on the Unite the Kingdom March, September 2025; cf. coverage of Charlie Kirk’s assassination, State Farm Stadium Memorial, Glendale, AZ, 21 September 2025.
³ Cf. contemporary political rhetoric: President Joe Biden’s remarks, “MAGA Republicans a threat to democracy” (Philadelphia speech, 1 September 2022); Labour MPs on gender-critical feminists, Hansard debates 2023–25; Canadian federal cases against pro-life campaigners, 2023–24.
⁴ St Augustine, De Natura et Gratia, ch. 3.
⁵ St Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae I-II, q. 93, a. 3.
⁶ Pius XI, Mit Brennender Sorge, 1937.
⁷ Leo XIII, Immortale Dei, 1885.


The Tyranny of Fear: Paracetamol, Autism, and the Age of Distrust

By the Archbishop of Selsey

There was a time when the family medicine cabinet represented the ordinary mercies of Providence — a fever brought down, a headache relieved, a child comforted. Yet in our present age, even the simplest remedy is caught up in a theatre of fear. Paracetamol, known in America as Tylenol, has been transformed from a trusted household staple into the villain of a thousand conspiracies. What has changed? Not the substance of the drug, but the substance of our culture.

We live in an era where suspicion is stronger than truth, and fear louder than reason. The story of paracetamol and autism tells us less about medicine and more about the sickness of the modern mind.

Science and Its Distortions
Let us begin with the facts. A major Scandinavian study published in JAMA Psychiatry (2023) compared siblings — one exposed prenatally to acetaminophen, another not — and found no association with autism, ADHD, or intellectual disability¹. In plain speech: within the same family, the presence or absence of paracetamol exposure made no difference.

Yet a different review, published in 2025, proclaimed the evidence “strong” for a link. Social media seized on this word, “strong,” and translated it into “proven.” A Johns Hopkins study in 2019 observed correlations in umbilical cord blood, and activists declared a “direct connection”². Even images were invented to persuade: a grotesque diagram showing vaccination, fever, Tylenol, and finally a weeping child labelled “autism.”

Here we see the perennial temptation: to mistake suggestion for certainty, association for causation. The lie has wings; truth must walk on crutches.

Regulators, Lawsuits, and the Spectacle of Fear
What then do regulators say? The U.S. Food and Drug Administration has proposed adding a caution to labels, not because causation is proved, but because in our climate of suspicion, silence itself would be seen as complicity³. The European and British authorities have stood firm: paracetamol remains the recommended analgesic in pregnancy, when used prudently⁴.

And what of the courts? In 2024, American lawsuits alleging that Tylenol caused autism were dismissed. The judge ruled that the expert testimony failed the very test of scientific reliability. Yet though the law cast out the claim, the idea remains in circulation, because fear feeds on itself⁵.

The courtroom has become theatre, the news cycle a pulpit of panic. In such an age, the burden of proof is no longer on the accuser but on the accused.

The Moral Disease Beneath the Medical Debate
What is at stake is not merely whether paracetamol is safe, but whether our civilisation can still distinguish truth from error, evidence from conjecture, prudence from hysteria.

This age of distrust is the child of modernism: once we deny objective truth in theology, it is not long before we deny it in science. If there is no Magisterium in the Church, there will be no authority in medicine. If we will not believe the prophets, neither will we believe the epidemiologists.

We have seen this same drama play out in the vaccine debates. The Church affirms that parents have the duty of prudence, not of panic. To refuse all medicine out of fear is not holiness but presumption. To treat speculation as revelation is to exchange science for superstition.

The Catholic Response: Prudence and Trust
What then should a Catholic do? The answer is as old as St. Thomas: virtue is found in prudence, the golden mean between recklessness and cowardice.

Paracetamol has been used for generations. The most rigorous studies show no causal link with autism. Regulators advise moderation, not abstinence. The Church teaches that the goods of creation are not to be despised, but received with thanksgiving and discernment.

Yet we must also be vigilant. The family is the first guardian of life. If we surrender discernment to lawsuits and internet images, we fail in our duty. Prudence requires both attentiveness to scientific evidence and resistance to the theatre of fear.

Conclusion: The Tyranny of Fear and the Triumph of Truth
My beloved, what the paracetamol debate reveals is the deeper malady of our age: the tyranny of fear. In a culture that no longer believes in truth, every whisper becomes an accusation, every study a conspiracy, every medicine a menace.

But Christ did not die to make us slaves of suspicion. “Perfect love casts out fear” (1 John 4:18). The Christian is called to discern, not to panic; to reason, not to rage. The medicine cabinet is not the tabernacle — it does not hold the Bread of Life. Yet neither should it become the idol of fear.

We must walk the narrow way: trusting in God, using His gifts with prudence, rejecting both complacency and hysteria. For if fear reigns in the mind, faith cannot reign in the heart.

And so I say, with Fulton Sheen: “Truth does not need to be defended, only proclaimed.” The truth is this: no evidence proves that paracetamol causes autism. The greater danger lies not in a bottle of tablets, but in a culture addicted to fear.

For a more indepth presentation visit Nuntiatoria.org


  1. U.S. District Court, Southern District of New York, In re Acetaminophen ASD/ADHD Litigation, dismissal ruling 2024; appeals pending.
  2. Gustavson, K. et al., JAMA Psychiatry, 2023 – Scandinavian sibling-comparison cohort study.
  3. Wang, C. et al., JAMA Psychiatry, 2019 – Johns Hopkins cord blood study.
  4. FDA, “FDA announces proposed labeling changes for acetaminophen products,” 2025.
  5. EMA/MHRA joint statements, 2025 – guidance on paracetamol in pregnancy.

The Enduring Gift of Christian Sexual Ethics

By the Archbishop of Selsey

The ordering of human love has always been decisive for the health of civilisations. At stake is not simply the happiness of individuals, but the stability of families, the nurture of children, and the vitality of culture itself. Christianity, from its beginning, proposed a vision of sexuality that was at once demanding and profoundly humane. Far from repressing joy, it elevates it—integrating passion with fidelity, openness to life, and the dignity of persons.

The Church has never been content to leave the most intimate of human acts to shifting preference. From Genesis onward, marriage is revealed as covenant: “The two shall be one flesh” (Gen. 2:24; Mt. 19:5). Christ confirmed this order, declaring: “What God hath joined together, let not man put asunder” (Mt. 19:6). Sexual intimacy belongs to marriage, marriage is permanent and faithful, chastity before marriage prepares for fidelity within it, and openness to life crowns it with fruit. Virginity and celibacy point to the higher truth that human fulfilment ultimately rests in God.

The Fathers called these principles beautiful. St. Augustine described chastity as “the beauty of the soul” which brings harmony to desire.¹ St. John Chrysostom called the Christian household “a little Church,” where fidelity mirrors the love of Christ and His Bride.² St. Jerome observed that consecrated virginity does not diminish love but ennobles it.³ Their vision was later reaffirmed by the magisterium: Pope Pius XI in Casti Connubii taught that marriage is ordered both to the procreation of children and the mutual perfection of the spouses;⁴ the Second Vatican Council in Gaudium et Spes called marriage “a covenant of irrevocable personal consent”;⁵ and St. John Paul II in Familiaris Consortio declared that “the future of humanity passes by way of the family.”⁶

What has this ethic produced in practice? The social sciences confirm what revelation declared. Decades of research show that children raised in stable, married families are healthier, better educated, and more emotionally secure. A Princeton study led by W. Bradford Wilcox concluded that intact marriages reduce child poverty, improve school performance, and lower delinquency.⁷ Anthropologists have demonstrated that monogamous marriage, historically rare, restrains elite polygamy, reduces male violence, and directs energy into family provision. Joseph Henrich called this shift “the domestication of the male,” essential for peaceful and productive societies.⁸

Where intimacy is safeguarded by fidelity, health is preserved. The Centers for Disease Control consistently note that stable, monogamous unions carry the lowest risks of disease and psychological harm.⁹ By insisting on covenantal love, Christian morality provides a natural safeguard for trust and well-being. By demanding equal fidelity from husband and wife, it elevated the dignity of women. What theology first declared, anthropology now confirms: monogamous marriage fosters greater equality between the sexes and deeper paternal investment in children.¹⁰

This vision is also life-affirming. In the ancient world, Christians distinguished themselves by refusing to expose infants, insisting that every child is a gift. Roman historians noted the peculiarity of this practice.¹¹ Today, the same openness to life challenges a culture that too often views children as burdens. In Humanae Vitae, Pope Paul VI warned prophetically that to separate love from life would lead to marital breakdown, the exploitation of women, and demographic decline.¹² His words have proven true. Nations that embraced contraception and abortion as norms now face collapsing birth rates and an uncertain future. Italy, Spain, and Japan all record fertility rates far below replacement level, leaving questions of intergenerational care and economic survival.¹³

Even psychology lends its voice. Walter Mischel’s well-known studies on delayed gratification showed that the ability to restrain desire predicted better outcomes in education, work, and health decades later.¹⁴ Christian chastity, far from being denial, is a school of virtue. It trains men and women to master desire, not be mastered by it. It is preparation for fidelity in marriage and a foundation for self-possession in all of life.

The witness of celibacy and virginity adds another dimension. St. Paul called it a gift enabling undivided devotion to God. Far from undermining society, celibate communities have enriched it: monasteries preserved learning, cultivated land, and cared for the sick; religious orders established schools and hospitals that endure to this day. As Rodney Stark has shown, the radical witness of virginity and celibacy drew many to the Church, impressed by the joy of lives wholly consecrated to Christ.¹⁵

By contrast, the world’s departure from these principles is plain. In the United States, more than 40% of children are born outside marriage.¹⁶ Researchers such as Sara McLanahan have shown that these children face higher risks of poverty and educational disadvantage.¹⁷ Across Europe, loneliness has reached record levels among young adults, often linked to unstable relationships and the decline of family bonds.¹⁸ The United Kingdom has reported the highest rates of syphilis in seventy years.¹⁹ Meanwhile, nations that suppress openness to life now face demographic winter.²⁰ And cultural observers like Mary Eberstadt have argued that the weakening of family life contributes directly to social fragmentation, as individuals seek identity in causes and ideologies when they no longer receive it from kinship and home.²¹

These are not condemnations but clarifications. They show by contrast how the Christian ethic, lived authentically, provides remedies for today’s wounds. By calling men to be faithful protectors, women to be honoured partners, and children to be cherished blessings, it nurtures harmony. By connecting intimacy with covenant, it safeguards trust. By linking love to life, it renews generations.

Christian sexual morality is not a burden but a gift—an enduring framework through which love finds its truest form. Where it is embraced, societies flourish; where it is neglected, they falter. Demanding, yes—but profoundly humane. It orders love to truth, and life to abundance. In the words of St. John Paul II: “Man cannot live without love. He remains a being that is incomprehensible to himself… if love is not revealed to him.”²²

For a more indepth presentation visit Nuntiatoria.org


¹ St. Augustine, Confessions, Book X.
² St. John Chrysostom, Homily XX on Ephesians.
³ St. Jerome, Against Jovinianus, Book I.
⁴ Pius XI, Casti Connubii (1930), §23.
⁵ Vatican II, Gaudium et Spes (1965), §48.
⁶ John Paul II, Familiaris Consortio (1981), §86.
⁷ W. Bradford Wilcox, Marriage and Child Well-Being: Research Findings (Princeton/Institute for American Values, 2011).
⁸ Joseph Henrich, Robert Boyd & Peter J. Richerson, The Puzzle of Monogamous Marriage, Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B (2012).
⁹ CDC, Sexually Transmitted Disease Surveillance Report (2023).
¹⁰ Joseph Henrich, The WEIRDest People in the World (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2020).
¹¹ Tacitus, Annals, XV, 44; cf. Athenagoras, Plea for the Christians, §35.
¹² Paul VI, Humanae Vitae (1968), §17.
¹³ UN Department of Economic and Social Affairs, World Fertility and Family Planning 2022.
¹⁴ Walter Mischel, The Marshmallow Test: Mastering Self-Control (Little, Brown, 2014).
¹⁵ Rodney Stark, The Rise of Christianity (HarperOne, 1997).
¹⁶ CDC, National Vital Statistics Reports, Vol. 72, No. 2 (2023).
¹⁷ Sara McLanahan & Isabel Sawhill, Marriage and Child Wellbeing Revisited, Future of Children 15:2 (2005).
¹⁸ European Union Agency for Fundamental Rights, Loneliness in the EU (2022).
¹⁹ UK Health Security Agency, Sexually Transmitted Infections Surveillance Data (2022).
²⁰ UN Department of Economic and Social Affairs, World Fertility and Family Planning 2022.
²¹ Mary Eberstadt, Primal Screams: How the Sexual Revolution Created Identity Politics (Templeton Press, 2019).
²² John Paul II, Redemptor Hominis (1979), §10.


The Brit Card Returns?

A Catholic Warning on Sir Keir Starmer’s Digital ID Plans

By the Archbishop of Selsey

We are told that salvation will come by means of a card. Not the holy card that carries an image of Christ or His saints, but a digital one — cold, impersonal, glowing with the light of a screen. Prime Minister Keir Starmer assures us that this “Brit Card” will solve our immigration woes and bring order to a troubled land. Yet it is not a solution, but a mirage. It will neither stop the boats nor restore justice. What it will do is place yet another chain upon the wrists of free men and women.

The illusion of control
A digital ID cannot halt the tide of those who cross our borders unlawfully. It cannot compel deportations. It cannot restore sovereignty. It can, however, make the ordinary citizen a suspect in his own land, compelled at every step to prove his right to exist. Starmer offers us not control, but control’s shadow — a symbol without substance, a gesture that punishes the innocent while ignoring the guilty.

History’s warning
This nation has rejected ID cards before. In 1952 they were cast aside, deemed a nuisance unfit for peacetime liberty. The Lord Chief Justice himself dismissed them as an unnecessary burden¹. When Tony Blair revived the idea in 2006, the Identity Cards Act provoked outrage. The scheme was repealed in 2010, with Theresa May condemning it as “intrusive, bullying, ineffective and expensive”². The British people knew, and still know, that a free citizen does not live by papers, and that liberty dies not with a shout but with the quiet submission of one more form, one more scan, one more demand to “show your pass.”

The dignity of the person
Catholic truth tells us that man is made in the image of God. The state is not our master, but our servant. Leo XIII proclaimed that “man precedes the State” and that governments must respect the “natural and inalienable rights of the individual”³. Digital ID systems invert this order. They make rights conditional upon verification, reducing the child of God to a barcode on a screen.

We have seen where this leads. In China, identity cards and facial recognition cameras are the tools of a Social Credit System that punishes the “untrustworthy” and rewards compliance. The body may still walk free, but the soul is shackled. Pius XI warned against precisely this tyranny, a state that “absorbs the individual in the collectivity”⁴. The chains may be digital, but they are chains nonetheless.

A false solution to a real problem
Immigration is a grave matter. Justice demands that borders be secure; charity demands that the vulnerable be treated with compassion. Both are betrayed when leaders offer a false cure. Digital ID is aspirin for a cancer — a placebo for a dying patient. It gives the impression of action while the disease advances unchecked.

And let us not forget the law of unintended consequences. Big Brother Watch warns that such a system would birth a “Papers, please” society, where access to housing, banking, even a doctor’s visit, would depend on the state’s permission. Already 63% of Britons do not trust their government to guard such data safely, and tens of thousands have voiced their opposition⁵. They are right. A government that cannot patrol the Channel cannot be trusted to guard the keys to your very identity.

The choice before us
The question, then, is not one of efficiency, but of destiny. Do we still believe in man as a free creature under God, or do we bow to the idol of the state that seeks to number, catalogue, and command its subjects? For “where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty” (2 Cor 3:17). And where the Spirit is absent, liberty dies.

My brothers and sisters, Britain must not trade its soul for a digital card. This proposal is not progress but regress, not modernity but bondage. Let us recall the instinct that led our fathers to cast aside ID cards in the past: the instinct that told them a man’s word, his character, his citizenship, were worth more than any paper or plastic.

Conclusion
If we accept this scheme, we risk becoming a people who no longer trust our own freedom, who no longer trust the God who gave it, but who clutch instead at the cold comfort of bureaucracy. This is the very slavery from which Christ came to deliver us.

Britain must reject the “Brit Card.” Not out of nostalgia, not out of partisan rancour, but out of fidelity to truth and freedom. For if we forget that man is more than a number, then one day we will wake to find that the number has replaced the man.

For a more indepth presentation visit Nuntiatoria.org


  1. Big Brother Watch, Checkpoint Britain (Sept 2025), pp. 4–6.
  2. Lord Chief Justice Goddard, Willcock v Muckle (1951).
  3. Theresa May, Statement on the repeal of the Identity Cards Act, 2010.
  4. Leo XIII, Rerum Novarum (1891), §7.
  5. Pius XI, Quadragesimo Anno (1931), §78.

The Silence That Betrays

By the Archbishop of Selsey

It was inevitable that Cardinal Cupich’s decision to bestow an award upon Senator Dick Durbin would provoke indignation. The senator’s record on abortion is no secret: he has voted to preserve and expand the destruction of the unborn for decades. That a Catholic bishop should present him with a “lifetime achievement award” in the name of the Church is not only puzzling but scandalous.¹

And thanks be to God, there are bishops with the courage to speak. Bishop Paprocki in Springfield, Durbin’s own ordinary, raised his voice immediately.² Archbishop Cordileone in San Francisco also joined him, warning that honoring a Catholic politician who defends abortion gravely undermines the Church’s witness.³ Bishop Conley of Lincoln followed soon after, calling the decision “shocking and bewildering” and urging Cardinal Cupich to reconsider.⁴ These are shepherds unafraid of wolves.

But the greater scandal lies not in Chicago’s award, but in the silence that followed it. Out of more than four hundred bishops in the United States, only three have spoken. Three voices against four hundred mute throats.

What does this silence betray?

It betrays a fear of men greater than the fear of God. It betrays the confusion of shepherds who imagine unity means inaction, and charity means complicity. It betrays a hierarchy that has grown so accustomed to ambiguity that clarity now feels like extremism.

History records that Pilate washed his hands in silence.⁵ Caiaphas tore his garments but said nothing for truth. Today, when infants are torn limb from limb in the very clinics Senator Durbin defends, silence is not neutrality but complicity.

Some will say: “But unity, Archbishop! Unity must be preserved!” Yes—but unity in what? In false witness? In collective equivocation? True unity is not built on silence but on truth. The early Church was united because Peter confessed Christ as Lord, not because he sought to appease Caesar. St. Paul did not hesitate to resist Peter “to his face” when the Gospel was endangered.⁶

Others will say: “But dialogue, Archbishop! We must keep the door open.” Dialogue is a means, not an end. If dialogue becomes a pretext for honoring those who defy God’s law, then it is no longer dialogue but betrayal. The world already applauds Senator Durbin for his politics. What he needs from the Church is not applause but correction.

A “consistent ethic of life” that forgets the unborn is not consistent at all. It is a seamless garment torn to shreds. To praise Durbin’s defense of immigrants while ignoring his contempt for the child in the womb is to strain out the gnat and swallow the camel.⁷

Bishops are not called to be managers of ambiguity. They are successors of the apostles, stewards of the mysteries of God. When they stand mute in the face of scandal, the faithful are left to wonder: do these men fear Caesar more than Christ?

St. Thomas More once observed that “qui tacet consentire videtur” — “silence is taken for consent.”⁸ And the oft-repeated warning remains true, even if its precise source is debated: that the triumph of evil requires only that good men do nothing.⁹

The faithful are watching. The world is watching. And Heaven itself bears witness. Our Lord will not ask whether we preserved institutional decorum or avoided conflict among ourselves. He will ask: Did you speak for the least of my brethren? Did you defend the child in the womb? Did you feed my sheep with truth?

The Chicago award to Senator Durbin is a scandal. But the greater scandal is the silence that has followed it. The blood of the unborn cries out to heaven, and too many shepherds pretend not to hear.

It is time for the trumpet to give a clear sound.

For a more indepth presentation visit Nuntiatoria.org


  1. Commonly attributed to Edmund Burke; no exact wording found in his works. See The Yale Book of Quotations (Yale University Press, 2006), p. 98.
  2. National Catholic Register, “Cardinal Cupich: Senator Durbin Award is About Immigration, Not Abortion,” Sept. 2025.
  3. The Pillar, “Paprocki: On Durbin award, ‘I had to say something’,” Sept. 23, 2025.
  4. America Magazine, “Paprocki, Cordileone oppose Chicago award to Durbin,” Sept. 23, 2025.
  5. LifeNews, Steven Ertelt, “Bishop Conley Joins Call For Cupich To Abandon Award For Dick Durbin,” Sept. 24, 2025.
  6. Matthew 27:24.
  7. Galatians 2:11.
  8. Matthew 23:24.
  9. Thomas More, A Dialogue Concerning Heresies (1529), bk. 2, ch. 14.