Act of supremacy

Does the Pope really care if he snubs Rowan Williams?

"The Pope -- how many divisions does he have?" is the dismissive question Stalin is said to have asked an adviser. An awful lot more than the Archbishop of Canterbury, is the answer that comes to mind after Rowan Williams's brief audience with the pontiff in Rome this weekend. The Pope may have given Dr Williams a pectoral cross, which, as Ruth Gledhill noted in the Times, was "an indication that he recognises his episcopacy -- in spite of a 19th-century papal bull under which Anglican orders are deemed 'absolutely null and utterly void' ", but the meeting was very short -- only 20 minutes -- and the Archbishop's claim that the Pope was "extremely enthusiastic about the next stage in ecumenical dialogue" seemed a little hollow, given that the Roman Catholic hierarchy in England and Wales is now setting up a "task force" to welcome what it assumes will be tens of thousands of disaffected Anglicans.

Dr Williams gave an interview to the Financial Times on Saturday, in which the writer noted that he is "the senior bishop of the 77 million-strong Anglican Communion". I think this was expected to convey what a large number of followers he leads. What struck me, however, was how small the figure was. The population of Britain is expected to reach that number this century, but this is a total for Anglicans worldwide. Compare that with well over a billion Catholics who, moreover, follow what the philosopher Daniel Dennett would call a more "costly" faith -- that is to say, one that makes greater requirements of its adherents. And as he noted in his 2006 book, Breaking the Spell: Religion as a Natural Phenomenon: "The more you have invested in your religion, the more you will be motivated to protect that investment."

Everyone is always in favour of ecumenism. Who wouldn't be? Isn't it all about seeing what people have in common, being friendly, coming together -- no doubt "very prayerfully"? But in this case it is difficult to see what Anglicans stand to gain from such an approach, which seems overwhelmingly one-sided. And there will always be the thought for Catholics, perhaps not stated, but still present, somewhere at the back of the mind, that the ultimate goal of ecumenism with Anglicans is for the Church of England to return to Rome. Only two years ago, after all, the Vatican produced a document in which it said that Protestant and Orthodox faiths were "not proper churches".

This caused some (understandable) embarrassment and indignation to those busy with ecumenical projects. But I rather enjoyed the more forthright response of the Rev David Phillips, general secretary of the Church Society:

"We are grateful that the Vatican has once again been honest in declaring their view that the Church of England is not a proper Church. Too much dialogue proceeds without such honesty," he said. "In their view . . . to be a true church one has to accept the ludicrous idea that the Pope is in some special way the successor of the apostle Peter and the supreme earthly leader of the Church. These claims cannot be justified, biblically, or historically, yet they have been used not only to divide Christians, but to persecute them and put them to death."

Not very diplomatic, but he made his point. In contrast, a couple of weeks ago I attended a seminar Dr Williams gave at the Royal Society of Arts in conjunction with the Tony Blair Faith Foundation. The Archbishop was eloquent, erudite, humble and inspiring. But perhaps he should take heed of his own words. At one point he defined "disagreement" as being "the willingness to have arguments with respect". Pectoral cross or not, it doesn't sound to me as though Dr Williams and his church are getting much in the way of respect from the current Pope. In which case, making a rather firmer statement of "disagreement" might not be a bad idea.

We may not be talking about divisions yet, but Pope Benedict's tanks are clearly parked on the lawns at Lambeth Palace. His Grace shouldn't let his natural politeness stop him demanding their removal.

 

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Sholto Byrnes is a Contributing Editor to the New Statesman
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6 ways Brexit is ruining our food

A meat-eating chocolate-lover? You're in trouble.

We were warned. “We’ve got to get our act together”, said Tim Lang, Professor of Food Policy at City University London about an impending culinary crisis. He predicted that food would be the second biggest Brexit issue after the future of banking in the City of London. But whereas The City, ominously capitalised, is an ephemeral consideration for those outside the infamous metropolitan liberal elite, food certainly isn’t. Food affects us all – and so far it’s been hit hard by Brexit, after the value of the pound has been savaged, making importing to the UK more expensive. Here are six ways in which Brexit has is ruining our food.

Walnut Whip

The final insult. The sign that Brexit really has gone too far. It was announced yesterday that Walnut Whips would become nothing more than mere Whips. The reason given for this abomination was that the new range would cater for those who didn’t like, or were allergic to, nuts, allowing them to enjoy just the gooey, chocolatey goodness within. Closer inspection reveals that’s not quite the whole story. Walnut importers like Helen Graham, told the Guardian that the pound’s post-Brexit fall in value after last June, combined with “strong global demand” and a poor walnut yield in Chile, have led to Whips shedding the Walnut - not consumer demand. Nestlé say that individual packets and Christmas bumper packs will still be available - but at this rate, getting hold of them might prove harder in practice than in theory.

Marmite

2016’s Marmite shortages was perhaps the first sign that not all was well. Marmite is the ultimate Brexit metaphor: you either love it or hate it, a binary reflected in the 48-52 per cent vote – and the bitter taste it leaves for many. Marmite’s endangered status was confirmed after Tesco entered hostile negotiations with food megacorp Unilever, who wanted to raise trade prices by 10 per cent due to that inconvenient falling pound. Lynx deodorant, Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, Persil washing powder and PG Tips tea were similarly affected, but none inspired quite the same amount of outrage as the yeast-based spread.

Toblerone

The beauty of Toblerone is the frequency of its triangles. That angularity has been undermined by manufacturer Mondelēz’s decision to space them out, removing 10 per cent of the bar’s total chocolate in the process. Art has truly been tampered with. The scandal led to Colin Beattie MSP calling for the Scottish Parliament to offer condolences to triangle fans, blaming it directly on Brexit. Defending the change, a spokeswoman for Mondelēz said "this change wasn't done as a result of Brexit", suggesting it's part of the sad trend of chocolates getting skimpier. That said, they did admit that the current exchange rate was "not favourable" - and that in itself is directly due to Brexit. They also refused to be drawn on whether they'd be changing their signature chocolate in other EU territories. Hmm. Semantics aside, the dispute is getting legal. Poundland, who are seeking to bring out a "Twin Peaks" alternative to Toblerone echoing the brand's original shape but with two peaks per block instead of one, claim that Toblerone's shape is no longer distinctive enough to warrant a trademark. They claim that their new rival has "a British taste, and with all the spaces in the right places". Shots. Fired.

Cheddar

This one hurts more because it’s closer to home. Our Irish neighbours are reportedly considering turning away from cheddar to mozzarella. This act of dairy-based betrayal is understandable: if export tariffs to the UK go up, Irish cheese producers will have to sell their wares primarily on the continent – for which mozzarella would be a better fit. Tragic.

Chlorinated chicken

Ah, the big one. The subject of not only a transatlantic war of words, but also the source of strife within the cabinet. With the UK forced to look to the US for trade support, it was feared that the country's’ trademark chlorinated chicken would be forced upon these shores as a concession. International Trade Secretary Liam Fox called the media “obsessed” with the topic, dismissing fears over Britain’s meat of the future by saying that there is “no health risk”. Environment Secretary Michael Gove, however, said that there is no way that chlorinated chicken would reach British shelves. The row has faded away somewhat – but this game of chicken between these cabinet heavyweights may yet be renewed when Parliament reconvenes.

Hormone beef

Hormone beef is similarly contentious. US farmers raise cows on growth hormones to fatten them up for markets. As with chlorinated chicken, it’s a practice banned under EU law. It’s a touchy subject for US trade negotiators. Gregg Doud, a senior figure in Trump’s agriculture team, has said that accepting hormone beef is essential to any trade agreement. This debate, too, will presumably rumble on.

All told, it’s a good time to be a vegetarian, but a bad time to have a sweet tooth. Most of the upheaval rests around the weakness of the pound, so maybe the only way forward is to just eat good old homegrown British fruit. At least we'd all be healthier and more in pocket. Oh wait. Apparently British fruit harvests are in jeopardy too, given that most of our fruit is picked by short-term EU migrants. Ah, well, at least we've all got Boris Johnson to make sure that we can have our bananas curved, in packs of more than three.