It wasn't supposed to end like this. Justin Welby, the man who was once hailed as the "CEO of the Church," the pragmatist with an oil executive’s resume and a mediator's heart, stepped down in November 2024. For nearly twelve years, he occupied the highest seat in the Church of England, navigating everything from Brexit to royal funerals. Then, the Makin Review happened.
The report didn't just suggest a mistake; it outlined a "conspiracy of silence." It detailed the horrific, decades-long abuse by John Smyth, a barrister who targeted boys at Christian summer camps. Welby had been told about the allegations in 2013, shortly after he took office. He didn't tell the police. He believed, wrongly, that they already knew. That gap between 2013 and 2024—a decade of "retraumatizing" silence for the victims—is what eventually broke his tenure.
When he finally quit, he said he did so "in sorrow with all victims." But for many, it felt like too little, far too late.
The Meteoric Rise of an Outsider
Most Archbishops of Canterbury spend their whole lives in the ivory towers of academia or climbing a very specific ecclesiastical ladder. Justin Welby was different. He didn't even get ordained until he was 36. Before the collar, he spent 11 years in the oil industry, working for Elf Aquitaine and Enterprise Oil. He knew his way around a balance sheet and a boardroom.
This background made him the "Open Evangelical" darling of a church that felt it was losing its way in the modern world. He was a guy who could talk about "The War on Wonga" (his campaign against predatory payday lenders) and actually understand how interest rates worked. People liked that. He felt human.
A childhood built on secrets
Kinda helps to understand the man if you look at his home life. Welby grew up with parents who struggled with alcoholism. He described his early life as "messy." In 2016, he found out via a DNA test that his biological father wasn't Gavin Welby, the man who raised him, but Sir Anthony Montague Browne, Winston Churchill’s last private secretary.
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He took the news with a strange, calm grace. He basically said his identity was found in Jesus, not in his genes. It was a moment that made him seem incredibly grounded, even as the world around him was shifting.
The Makin Review: The Breaking Point
The John Smyth scandal is hard to read about. It’s brutal. Smyth was a prominent lawyer who groomed and beat young men with a cane in a garden shed, telling them it was for their "spiritual progression." He was a monster hiding in plain sight.
The Makin Review, published in late 2024, was the final nail. It concluded that Smyth was the most prolific serial abuser ever associated with the Church of England. The most damning part for Welby? He was told in 2013. He didn't follow up. The report argued that if he had acted more "energetically," Smyth might have been brought to justice before he died in South Africa in 2018.
- The 2013 Disclosure: Welby was informed of the abuse shortly after becoming Archbishop.
- The Assumptions: He assumed police were already on the case. They weren't.
- The Result: Smyth continued his life without facing a courtroom.
By the time the petition for his resignation hit 10,000 signatures, including those from his own clergy, the writing was on the wall. He was no longer a symbol of reconciliation. He was a symbol of institutional failure.
Holding Together a Global Church
Beyond the scandals, Welby spent most of his 12 years trying to stop a global divorce. The Anglican Communion is a messy family of 85 million people. On one side, you’ve got liberal provinces in the West wanting to bless same-sex unions. On the other, you’ve got deeply conservative provinces in Africa and Asia who see that as a total betrayal of the Bible.
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Welby tried to walk a middle path. Honestly, it was a path where everyone ended up mad at him.
He supported the Church of England's move to offer "Prayers of Love and Faith" for same-sex couples in 2023, but then he said he wouldn't personally carry out the blessings. He wanted to be the bridge. Instead, he became the guy caught in the crossfire. Conservative bishops in the "Global South" eventually declared they no longer recognized him as their leader.
Successes that get overshadowed
It’s easy to forget he actually got some big things done. He was the one who finally pushed through the legislation for female bishops in 2014. After years of the church voting "no," he managed to navigate the politics and get Libby Lane consecrated as the first female bishop. That was a massive win.
He was also the guy on the world stage for the big moments. He buried Queen Elizabeth II. He crowned King Charles III. He handled those high-pressure, televised rituals with a kind of quiet, steady dignity that the British public really appreciated.
The Legacy Left Behind
What do we do with the story of Justin Welby? He was a man of deep personal faith who spoke in tongues daily and sought spiritual direction from a Roman Catholic priest. He was also a leader who presided over a culture that, in the words of the 2022 Independent Inquiry into Child Sexual Abuse, was a place where "abusers could hide."
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His resignation isn't just about one man. It’s about the end of an era where "protecting the institution" comes before protecting the people.
Actionable Insights for the Future
The Church of England is now in a period of "Sede Vacante"—an empty seat. The process to find the 106th Archbishop of Canterbury will be long and complicated. Here is what to watch for as the dust settles:
- The Crown Appointments Commission: This 16-member group will start the hunt. They have to balance the needs of a local English parish with the needs of a global communion.
- Safeguarding Reform: Expect a massive push for independent safeguarding. The era of the church "marking its own homework" is likely over.
- The Unity Question: The next Archbishop will have to decide: do we try to keep everyone together at all costs, or do we accept that the Anglican Communion is heading for a formal split?
The story of Justin Welby is a reminder that in leadership, intent doesn't always trump impact. He intended to lead a church of reconciliation. He ended up leading a church that had to reconcile with its own darkest corners.
The Church of England now has to figure out how to be a "safer church" without the man who spent a decade trying, and failing, to make it one.