To err is human to forgive divine: spotlight on complaints in the NHS, the crusade for perceived justice

The Healthcare Commission’s recently published report ‘Spotlight on Complaints’ highlights a general state of malaise with the NHS’ approach to complaint management. The conclusion of this the second report by the Commission is clear, NHS Trusts still have much to do to improve the principle antecedents, which collectively construct complainants’ attainment of perceived justice.

Orthodoxy and political myths in Balkan national identities

This article analyses the relationship between Balkan national identities and the region's dominant religion: Eastern Orthodox Christianity. After examining the concept of 'symphonia' between Orthodoxy and politics that developed during the Byzantine Empire, this article argues that the political myths that have emerged from Orthodoxy are the most potent in the Balkan mythical imaginary. Political myths have a direct impact on contemporary politics developing a threefold structure: the sacralisation of politics; the perception of the nation as a divine manifestation; and, the construction of a divine realm on earth.

The Romanian Orthodox Church

At first glance, the nationalist ideology of the French Revolution seems to have had little impact on the Orthodox Church in Romanian-speaking territories. Romanians were the predominant inhabitants of the principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia and the neighboring territories of Transylvania (including Crişana, Maramureş and Banat), Bukovina, Bessarabia, and Dobrudja. The majority of ethnic Romanians belonged to the Orthodox faith while their communities were at the intersection of geopo liti cal interests of the Rus sian, Ottoman, and Habsburg empires. In 1859 the Principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia (known as the Old Kingdom between 1866 and 1918) united into a single state under the rule of a local prince. The term "Romania" began to be used by the new state in its of cial documents in 1862. Two years later, the state supported the declaration of a Romanian autocephalous (in de pen dent) church that was recognized by the Ecumenical Patriarchate in 1885. As an integrative part of the Orthodox commonwealth, the church was situated between the competing jurisdictions of the Ecumenical Patriarchate and the Rus sian Orthodox Church, while its declaration of autocephaly followed a pattern in the spread of national churches in Southeastern Europe. From the Treaty of Kuchuk Kainardji of 1774 to the beginning of the Greek War for In de pen dence in 1821, the Romanian principalities were under the suzerainty of the Ottoman Empire, which had full control of their po liti cal and economic affairs. The sultan appointed princes, and the Porte determined their po liti cal and judicial status. The princes were drawn from the "Phanariots," and were directly appointed by the Porte from preponderantly Greek elite rather than the Romanian local elite, the boyars (boieri).1 In each principality, the church was headed by a metropolitan who was under the direct jurisdiction of the Ecumenical Patriarchate. That religion mattered to local population as a means of social cohesion was suggestively depicted by Anatole de Demidoff, an En glish traveler in the region in 1837. Arriving in Bucharest, the capital of Wallachia, he claimed that: I know of no city in Europe in which it is possible to find more agreeable society, or in which there is a better tone, united with the most charming gaiety⋯. Religion, which is here of the schismatic Greek creed, does not, properly speaking, hold any great empire over the minds of the Wallachian people, but they observe its outward forms, and particularly the austerities of fasting, with scrupulous exactitude. The people are seen to attend divine ser vice with every sign of respect, and the great number of churches existing in Wallachia, bear witness to the ardent zeal with which outward worship is honored.2 The Romanian Orthodox Church was a national institution, closely linked to social, economic, and po liti cal structures. In most cases, Orthodox hierarchs were appointed from the families of boyars, thus ensuring a close relationship with the state authorities and its policies. As one of the largest landowners in the principalities, the church had a prime role in administrating healthcare and education. Although the majority of the clergy was uneducated, it dispensed both ecclesiastical and civil justice and in many cases worked closely with boyars in local administration.3 The lower clergy not only contributed directly to the economy but also benefited from tax privileges. Some small villages had an unusually high proportion of clergy in comparison to the overall population. For example, in 1810, Stənisləveşti, a village in the south of Wallachia, was composed of eleven houses and had two priests, five deacons, and three cantors; similarly, the Frəsinet village of nineteen houses had two priests and five deacons.4 Although these cases were exceptional, they indicate both the economic value of being a member of the clergy and the wider canonical dimension of church jurisdiction. The special status of the clergy was reflected not only at lower but also at higher levels. Bishops and metropolitans engaged with state policy and in many cases opposition to the authorities led to the loss of a spiritual seat. The metropolitan of each principality worked with the prince and was president of the divan, the gathering of all boyars. He held the right to be the first person to comment on state policy and to make recommendations when the prince was absent. The metropolitan replaced the prince when the principality had no political ruler, such as in the cases of Metropolitan Veniamin Costachi of Moldavia in 1806 and Metropolitan Dositei Filitti of Wallachia, while the bishops of Buzəu and Argeş were members of the provisional government during the Rus sian occupation of the principalities in 1808. The higher clergy had both religious and political prerogatives in relation to foreign powers as evident in their heading of the boyars' delegation to peace negotiation between the Rus sian and Ottoman empires at Focşani in 1772 and addressing memoranda to the Austrian and Rus sian governments in 1802.5 The primary role of the church in the principalities of Moldavia and Wallachia was paralleled by the national mobilization of Orthodox communities in the neighboring territories that had Romanian inhabitants. Although throughout the region Orthodox communities were incorporated into church structures as part of the Habsburg, Austrian or Rus sian empires, the nineteenth century was characterized by the leadership's search for political autonomy and the building of a Romanian national identity. The Orthodox communities outside the Old Kingdom maintained relations with the faithful in principalities across the Carpathian Mountains and the Dniester River and sought support in their struggle for political and religious rights.

Infant voices: embryonic and neonatal personhood in two recent French Catholic novels

There are almost no literary or artistic representations that take the unborn or neonatal infants as their subject. Two exceptions to this as Claire Daudin’s Le Sourire and Antoine Beauquier’s Pavillon 7: la révolte des embryons. What these novels share is the ambition to frame such subjects as full and complete persons. Thus in their distinct ways both novels engage with the familial, social and biological problems that arise when personhood is attributed to embryos or neo-natal infants. Their creation of an embryonic or infant ‘voice’ associates the dignity of such subjects with divine origins.

The fevered novel from Balzac to Bernanos:frenetic Catholicism in crisis, delirium and revolution

Book Review: The Fevered Novel from Balzac to Bernanos: Frenetic Catholicism in Crisis, Delirium and Revolution. By Francesco Manzini. (IGRS Books). London: Institute of Germanic and Romance Studies, 2011. 264 pp. Full text: This monograph is an important and compelling account of a novelistic tradition that stretches from Georges Bernanos back to Balzac, by way of Léon Bloy, Joris-Karl Huysmans, and Barbey d'Aurevilly. Depending on a master plot that evokes Maistrean themes of blood, sacrifice, and redemption, working in a feverish female body, this canon combines Romantic freneticism and anti-Enlightenment religion to create a compound that Francesco Manzini calls ‘frenetic Catholicism’. The theme of fever, Manzini tells us, was commented on by Huysmans in writing about Barbey d'Aurevilly. When André Gide read Bernanos's Sous le soleil de Satan, he dismissed it as a rehash of Bloy and Barbey. In this present work Manzini aims to make us aware once more of the gradually intensifying themacity of fever in writings more usually classed in theologo-literary categories. His analysis encompasses (though is not restricted to) Balzac's Ursule Mirouët, Barbey d'Aurevilly's Un prêtre marié, Huysmans's En rade, Bloy's Le Désespéré and La Femme pauvre, and Bernanos's Nouvelle histoire de Mouchette. Thus, as Manzini argues in his conclusion, between the freneticism of the Romantics and that of the surrealists this corpus represents an intermediary wave of freneticism, foregrounding fever, hyperconsciousness, dreamlike episodes, and female automatism. Manzini's knowledge of, and ease amidst, the sources is constantly impressive. Much like Richard Griffiths before him (The Reactionary Revolution: The Catholic Revival in French Literature, 1870–1914 (London: Constable, 1966)), he has read both the bad novels and the good ones. For that we are in his debt. His commentary thrives on the oddities of his subjects. He points quite rightly to the peculiar hubris of writers whose contempt for the secular excesses of scientism leads them down a cul-de-sac of primitive medical quackery. Likewise, he underlines how Zola's attempt to unwrite Barbey — exorcising the former's anti-Romantic animus, as much as scratching his anticlerical itch — leads him to recapitulate Barbey's religious authoritarianism in the secular vernacular of patriarchy. Les espèces qui se rapprochent se mangent, to paraphrase Bernanos (Les Grands Cimetières sous la lune). In spite of all Manzini's tightly organized analysis, however, this reader wonders whether the fevered novel ‘best allowed contemporaries — and now […] literary critics and historians — to imagine the issues at stake in the amorphous scientistic, religious, and political debates’ of the period (p. 17). Below the ideological clashes of nineteenth-century science and religion, the two contending dynamics of anthropocentrism and theocentrism are attested and, it can be argued, even more perfectly dramatized in other Catholic literature (Charles Péguy's poetry, for example). In these terms, what distinguishes the Catholic frenetics from their Romantic or surrealist counterparts is that their fevered subject represents an attempt to build a road out of what Canadian philosopher Charles Taylor calls ‘buffered’ individuality, and back towards the theocentric porous subject who is open to divine influence. By way of minor corrections, nuns do not take holy orders (p. 94) but make religious profession by taking vows. Also, the last Eucharistic host is not extreme unction (p. 119) but viaticum.

The unhappy marriage of religion and politics:problems and pitfalls for gender equality

This article explores how religion as a political force shapes and deflects the struggle for gender equality in contexts marked by different histories of nation building and challenges of ethnic diversity, different state–society relations (from the more authoritarian to the more democratic), and different relations between state power and religion (especially in the domain of marriage, family and personal laws). It shows how ‘private’ issues, related to the family, sexuality and reproduction, have become sites of intense public contestation between conservative religious actors wishing to regulate them based on some transcendent moral principle, and feminist and other human rights advocates basing their claims on pluralist and time- and context-specific solutions. Not only are claims of ‘divine truth’ justifying discriminatory practices against women hard to challenge, but the struggle for gender equality is further complicated by the manner in which it is closely tied up with, and inseparable from, struggles for social and economic justice, ethnic/racial recognition, and national self-determination vis-à-vis imperial/global domination.