Sir, —
I read the February Gazette in one sitting, mainly because it felt unwise to put it down in case it quietly vanished whilst my back was turned.
One learns a great deal from this issue. For instance, that the Church is simultaneously navigating global schism, safeguarding collapse, environmental catastrophe, geopolitical brinkmanship, and constitutional upheaval — whilst being financially undone by a reward to whomever correctly identifies Obadiah as the answer to 17 Down, roughly equivalent to the cost of a round of teas after Matins. This, I take it, is what strategic vulnerability looks like.
The editorial’s candour was bracing. It turns out that the Gazette — that curious relic which insists on being both independent and solvent — is now expected to survive on goodwill, volunteer labour, and the faint hope that nobody in authority finds it too independent at a particularly awkward moment. As Napoleon allegedly observed, he feared four newspapers more than a thousand bayonets. Judging by current funding arrangements, the Church appears to share his anxiety, though perhaps without the canons [sic]. The Church may not fear the Gazette quite that much, but it seems content to see whether it can be starved into a more pastoral tone.
And yet, for all this, the Gazette endures. It still records, reports, irritates, and occasionally amuses. It still prints things that make people sigh, tut, and write letters like this one. Which is precisely why it matters.
A Church without an independent press does not become more harmonious. It becomes quieter. And quieter Churches have a habit of discovering too late that others are quite happy to narrate their story for them — usually with less sympathy and more enthusiasm. If this paper disappears, it will not be because it failed in its purpose. It will be because independence, like truth and courage, was celebrated right up until someone had to pay for it.
Yours, etc., —
The Revd Basil Last-Resort
(Formerly Rector of the Parish of Hope)
