The Tablet: a legacy of learning and influence

Brendan Walsh

At an event celebrating the 185th anniversary of The Tablet and the 175th anniversary of St Mary's University Twickenham, last Friday 21st November, Brendan Walsh, editor of The Tablet delivered an eloquent defence of truth-telling in an age of untruth.

He recounted the international Catholic weekly's eventful history and pledged to strive to be a 'bulwark of civility' in the words of Pope Leo. He lent notable support to a beleaguered BBC and argued that The Tablet strove to be bi-lingual, speaking both the language of the World and the language of Heaven in fidelity to a living Catholic tradition whose whole story needed to be told.

Here is Brendan Walsh's talk - The Tablet: a legacy of learning and influence - in full.

What have we learnt in 185 years?

Let's see if I can summarise it in ten points, ten signposts …

ten postcards that I might put up on the wall of my office to help me from going off the rails.

These points are drawn from my experience as a baby journalist, as someone who stumbled into working for the Tablet 15 years ago after a career in book publishing, interrupted by nine years working in international development, for CAFOD.

I hope they will be part of a wider conversation today between an international Catholic weekly newspaper, magazine and online media platform and a Catholic university, in which I hope we will learn from each other -

Not only from each other's legacy and tradition,

But how we each negotiate that inevitable relationship between our tradition and our present and our future

Both of us I think are walking a tightrope between the twin temptations of craven modernity and frozen traditionalism,

Both seek to be distinctively Catholic and at the same time "worldly" in the best sense, of being comfortable in the world, alert, of course, but confident enough to both listen and learn from it, and to be able to say, look, here are some good things we have to share, things you might learn from our tradition and experience.

So, my ten points …. Last night I got to seven, but I sketched in a few more on the train to Strawberry Hill this morning ….

The first is, Remember that you are a caretaker, a custodian.

In Traditionis Custodes, Pope Francis' document in which he significantly tightened the leash on those Catholics who preferred the old, pre-Vatican Council rites - not a moved greeted with universal warmth - the Pope described a bishop as a traditionis custos.

A custodian of the tradition. It is tempting for bishops to think it all depends on me.

That is a mistake that editors can make as well.

An editor of The Tablet should remember is that he or she is a link in a long chain. We inherit a 185-year legacy of learning and influence.

The work of each editor, and the team around them, is to polish up that legacy, perhaps to rearrange some of the furniture, perhaps to flatter ourselves with things like re-designs, strategic reviews and relaunches.

but what we are doing is keeping a legacy, a tradition burnished , refreshed and renewed.

We should look back with attention and gratitude and grace, to receive what is handed on to us; and we should look forward expectantly, wishing to convey undiminished and even with a little added glow the treasure with which we have been entrusted.

But a legacy , a tradition, is the guarantee of the future and not a container of the ashes of the past . It's like the roots of a tree that give us the nutrition to grow. A living tradition is always in movement, a living legacy is alive, it is not an urn on the mantelpiece that contains the ashes.

A smidgeon of history ….

The Tablet is one of the oldest weekly journals in Britain

It was launched in 1840 by a Quaker convert to Catholicism, Frederick Lucas, 10 years before the restoration of the Catholic hierarchy in England and Wales, and - we mustn't keep teasing our friends at St Mary's about this - ten years before St Mary's began down the road in Hammersmith … a comparative Johnny-come-lately

When Lucas went to Dublin in 1843 to promote sales of the paper he was immediately converted to the cause of Irish self-government.

The Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, Lord Clarendon, very helpfully denounced The Tablet as "one of the most offensive and virulent newspapers in Europe".

Lucas was criticised by both English and Irish bishops for his lack of deference, for "uncharitable and violent language" and for lacking respect for the Holy See.

His bishop in London, Nicholas Wiseman, wrote to Rome to express his regret at The Tablet's "personal attacks, foul language, gross abuse, and constant interference in ecclesiastical affairs."

The Tablet I'm sorry to say has not been able to maintained this noble talent for mischief for its entire 185 years …

Lucas died in 1855. In 1868, after 38 years of lay ownership, the paper was bought by Fr Herbert Vaughan, a Catholic priest of great zeal and energy, later to become the Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster.

At his death, he bequeathed The Tablet - and its debts - The Tablet has never really made any money - to the Archbishops of Westminster. In 1935, Archbishop (later Cardinal) Arthur Hinsley, despairing of its failure to wash its face, unloaded the journal back to a group of Catholic laymen.

The former Times leader writer Douglas Woodruff, took over as editor.

A Crossword appeared. £500 was splashed out for the serial rights to GK Chesterton's autobiography (a sum we'd baulk at coughing up for a book extract today).

The next big serialisation - a study of Voltaire by Alfred Noyes - hit a snag when the book was withdrawn from circulation on the orders of the Holy Office.

The Tablet was sailing close to the wind again.

Woodruff was succeeded by Tom Burns, politically a little to the right of centre, theologically a little to the left of centre - wholeheartedly in favour of the reforms of Vatican II. 1968 was a watershed year; under Burns, The Tablet took an editorial stance at odds with Pope Paul VI's encyclical Humanae Vitae, which restated the traditional teaching against artificial contraception. The bishops were furious. Several churches refused to stock the paper.

Burns was succeeded by John Wilkins, and then by Catherine Pepinster, The Tablet's first and so far only woman editor.

The first rule, Remember that you are a caretaker, a custodian. Our history taught us that each editor is the caretaker of a living tradition.

Two, don't tell lies.

"It is a paradox that in the age of communication, news and media agencies are undergoing a period of crisis," Pope Leo told journalists at a conference in Rome last month. The work of journalists was more vital than ever, he told them. "You can act as a barrier against those who, through the ancient art of lying, seek to create divisions in order to rule by dividing."

In another passage to be printed out and pasted on the wall of The Tablet's newsroom, the Pope quoted the late Hannah Arendt, who warned that what the authoritarian ruler wants in their readers and listeners is not "the convinced Nazi or the convinced Communist, but people for whom the distinction between fact and fiction and the distinction between true and false no longer exist". He added: "You can also be a bulwark of civility against the quicksand of approximation and post-truth," urging journalists to "never sell out your authority!"

Here of course, I think journalists and academic share common ground - and common alarms and terrors.

As we know, the BBC's director general and the head of its news operation resigned last week when it became clear that its journalists had misled viewers by selectively editing a speech by US President Donald Trump. That's precisely why the BBC needs protecting and defending, not discrediting and dismantling, which is what its enemies are trying to do.

In a bruised and bleeding world teeming with liars, there's a desperate need to take a stand for story-telling that does not pretend to be flawless, that recognises when it makes mistakes, but recognises the distinction between fact and fiction.

Three. Be humble.

You will make mistakes. When you do, own up, and put things right.

Oh - and don't kid yourself that you don't come to a story with baggage. None of us is impartial. All storytelling comes from a perspective. You are always putting things in a certain order of importance. It is our take on what is happening, and we never see the whole story.

But I don't think we should be frightened of that: we interpret things from a Catholic perspective, that's where we have our feet planted in the ground. We honestly seek the truth, we try to tell the truth as best we can, but we bring to that search for truth our own story, our own roots, our own values, our own way of seeing the world. Good readers understand that. I don't think it is something to be disguised.

You are an honest storyteller but we bring our own history to our journalism. You just have to be alert to the dangers of that, and then

be alert - but be comfortable within your Catholic skin.

Four, perhaps a simpler but vital thing: Speak the language of grace in an often graceless world.

There was a wonderful feature in The Tablet a few years ago in which Morag MacInnes remembered her friend, the brave, gentle Orkney poet George Mackay Brown. His work is permeated by his Catholicism. And he once asked, "How do I, as a poet and a writer, present holiness to a Godless generation? Especially as I know nothing about it myself?"

How do we put before the world mercy, holiness, forgiveness, reconciliation, when it is no longer familiar with that kind of language? When we ourselves can barely whisper these words …. I think that is part of the task of the Tablet.

Be a place of trustworthy, professional reporting, vivid, smart, compassionate comment and analysis, that is able to speak the language of the world and the language of heaven.

We have to be bilingual.

Five. Don't be a know-all. It is quite helpful if you are an editor that you should not know too much, not be too clever - or, at least, to be clever enough to know you need help. I think you need to be inquisitive and just a little slow-witted. If you know the answer to everything, if you can immediately see the logical flaws in everything you read, your magazine might be "right" but it will not intrigue or unsettle. We try to publish thoughtful and well-written work that explores new ideas and raises interesting questions. I don't know the answer to all the big questions. And good writers help me think those things through. I think that's quite good for readers too. They have a place where good, smart people are saying different, interesting things. I think if I was smarter and was sure I had all the answers, the paper would be trotting out the same ideas in article after article. No. Better to have things in the paper every week that will annoy some readers. Readers prefer a paper with tension and movement; not just writing that only ever tells them what they want to hear.

Six. Be brave. Journalism is about trying to serve the truth, doing our best to tell our readers what is happening. What was said, what was done, when and where it happened, without imposing our interpretation on things. Trying to get as near to the truth as possible.

Why do I think we have to be brave? It is because much of the media is in the hands of wealthy owners or powerful interests, people with an agenda, who want to use the media to put over their version of events. They want readers to see the news in a certain way. We don't pretend we don't bring our interests and prejudices to our story-telling. But we seek to be independent. We want our readers to trust our stories, to have a sense that they can make up their own minds about what they are reading. Whether it is good news or bad news for the Church, just tell it as straight as you can.

Here again, I think journalists and academic share common ground - and common alarms and terrors.

Journalists are like a pack; there is a group-think in journalism. Perhaps there is group-think in academia too.

The difficult thing is to report as freely as you can, and that means not only not following the pack - but - and this is sometimes as great a temptation - it also means not automatically assuming that the pack is wrong. That is another trap - the contrarian trap. Sometimes, what most people are saying is wrong; sometimes what most people are saying, as far as you can tell, is accurate.

So - Just try and look at what is happening with your own eyes; ask around; ask people who were there; check things out. And then make your own best judgement of what happened.

Be honest when it isn't clear what happened. Follow the evidence, plough your own furrow.

We want our readers to trust our stories, to have a sense that they can make up their own minds about what they are reading.

Seven. Just tell the story. We sometimes have phone calls from "sources", from senior people in the Church: leading figures in church agencies, senior clergy, influential opinion-formers. They always begin by saying they respect The Tablet's independence. They always say, "I'm not trying to interfere with what you are saying." They are usually well-meaning. They should always be listened to. They might say, "I read the story about such and such leading Catholic school last week …" , or "I read the leader you published last week that was critical of the church charity, or bishop or cardinal … "

And they will say: "What are you trying to achieve? What is your strategy here? That story was not really … helpful."

I think part of the job of the editor is to avoid the temptation of being too strategic, of thinking too much about whether this or that story will harm the Church, or help build the Kingdom of God.

We should find out as best we can what has happened, check it out carefully, check all the sources, be sure you are not being set up or used. "If your mother tells you that she loves you, check it out," as we say.

But if you are sure the story stands up, if your instinct tells you it's a good story … just tell it. It could be damaging to somebody you admire; it could be that "your team" is shown in a bad light. But remember that - in the long run - the truth never hurts the Church. Just tell the story … and let the cards fall.

Eight (I'm throwing a few lessons in here). Take risks. When I first got the job of Editor of The Tablet I went to see the chair of the Trustees. She had an important job in the City and her office was at the top of a skyscraper. She wanted to check that the new editor of The Tablet washed behind his ears. She had one piece of advice for me. "Take risks," she said.

Shut up and listen. Pay attention. Be prepared to hear things you don't want to hear. Be quiet, watch, be still.

And surround yourself with good people. The first rule of life, as we all know, is "Choose your parents well". Choose the journalists around you well. I have surrounded myself with really good professionals. And make your place of work reflect your values. I am always banging on about our values. Well, make sure you reflect that in how you work together with colleagues and contributors and readers and subscribers.

Deal justly. We're lucky at The Tablet. Our journalists go the extra mile. There is professionalism, and there is friendship.

Nine. Remember that every story is about people, about individuals, about families. However cynical and world-weary journalists might get, we must never forget that everyone we interview, every name we quote, is a real person. When we stand before a person, we stand before someone who has his or her struggle, just as we all have, someone in whose face we can see the face of Christ.

Ten. Tell the whole story. We all know that this is a time of shame in the Church, of humiliation. Tell that story completely straightforwardly, simply tell people what we think is happening. Don't hold anything back, even though people sometimes say, not another story of the scandal of abuse. But tell the whole story of the Church. The stories of courage, heroism, of sacrifice, of lives of simplicity and goodness, of love unto death.

If you look at the news pages of The Tablet every week you will see the extraordinary paradox and sign of contradiction of the Catholic world. There can be twelve stories from around the world on the Briefings page: a priest arrested for murdering his bishop, a priest risking his life to protect his people from murder; a cardinal charged with stealing money made from a shady property deal, a religious sister kneeling in front of gun-wielding soldiers, pleading with them not to shoot at demonstrators. Our job is just to put it all out there. All human life is there.

Tell the whole story. And, blimey, what a story it is. The greatest every told.

Eleven (a bonus rule!). Be joyful, be thankful, be hopeful. Remember the world we are writing about is charged with the grandeur of God. Everything is significant; everything matters.