Shortly after Chris Bain was appointed Cafod director in 2003, the charity experienced one of what he calls its “wobbles”. The aid agency came under fire for its policy on condoms and HIV. It favoured the “ABC” strategy, which recognised that condoms can prevent HIV transmission. Cafod insisted that it neither funded nor distributed condoms, but some Catholics – including priests – called for a boycott. The fiery journal Christian Order accused the charity of “condomania”.
Bain was barely a year into what he calls “the best job in the world”. He knew that if he bungled the response, Cafod could alienate the community it depended on.
“Our strategy was to get the support of the bishops’ conference for it,” he tells me when we meet at Cafod’s eco-friendly offices near Waterloo. “We created a policy paper which had the support of the conference, particularly Cardinal Cormac [Murphy-O’Connor] and Archbishop Patrick Kelly. We took it to Rome.
“I can probably say now – I couldn’t at the time – that we took it to [Cardinal Joseph] Ratzinger when he was at the CDF. He said it was consistent with Church teaching. It had that balance of Church teaching and the pastoral.”
Bain returned to England knowing that he had the backing of the Vatican’s doctrinal tsar (who a year later became pope). The protests fizzled out.
This year the aid industry has suffered not so much a wobble as a seismic jolt following revelations that Oxfam workers sexually exploited aid recipients. More than 1,000 people cancelled their direct debits to the charity in a single weekend. Allegations of sexual abuse and harassment also emerged at other charities. Cafod, however, largely evaded the crisis (it suspended one staff member who had previously worked for Oxfam). Bain thinks this is due to Cafod’s distinctive philosophy: it distributes aid via local “partners”, rather than parachuting in Westerners. He felt this was the right approach when he arrived at the charity. The events of the past 15 years have only strengthened his conviction.
“I believe even more than I did then that the interventions we in the North make have been paternalistic and neo-colonial,” he says. “They’ve been well meaning but their impact hasn’t been as benign as we, in our arrogance, have thought.”
Bain isn’t complacent. He says that Cafod will need to study the results of an independent review of its handling of allegations against staff.
At 64, Bain has a generous head of hair and a boyish grin. How has he managed to remain so apparently relaxed while managing a charity with a multi-million pound turnover? He leans back against his batik seat cover. “Right from the beginning I said that I wanted to create leadership at all levels,” he says. “And that means proper delegation. You couldn’t do this job if you were a control freak.”
When he arrived at Cafod, he was already an aid veteran, having worked for VSO, Christian Aid and Oxfam. But as an “ordinary parish Catholic”, he had never met a bishop. After 15 years of working closely with them, he says he feels great sympathy for the leaders of the Church in England and Wales.
“I think it’s more beleaguered,” he says. “Its challenges are greater, not just because of the decline of the church-going population, because of course that’s offset by migrant churchgoers. But also because of the pressure on the Church and the decisions it has to make. The question mark about Catholic schools, and their admission policies. Adoption agencies and areas where they’ve had issues with the government… The bishops are under more pressure.”
Bain intends to step down at the end of the year, not long after his birthday.
“I believe in retiring at 65,” he says.
“I think there’s a grey ceiling emerging where talent below gets blocked by crinklies staying there.”
He married five years ago and will become the primary carer of his young daughter, Aibhie (“I’m probably going to end up being a taxi driver – and I’m looking forward to that.”) He also plans to renovate his house in Kerry. His father was an electrician and his grandfather a carpenter and plumber, and he is itching to use his hands again.
How would he like to be remembered by colleagues? For the first time in our interview, he seems lost for words. He is effusive when talking about his team, but hesitant when speaking about himself.
“I’d like them to remember me as quite passionate about the work we do,” he says finally, “as quite supportive of them and their decisions, and their skills and talents. I’d like them to remember me as someone who engaged and talked with all colleagues and made myself available.
“I’d like to feel that the directions we have gone in have, on the whole, been the right ones.”
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