Throughout the centuries, the pulpit was the medium by which the message - moral, spiritual and often political - was delivered. Clergy, bishops and even archbishops delivered their sermons to captive congregations, who could neither switch off the words in mid-sermon nor select the passages they wished to hear. Though sometimes obscure and more often tedious, preachers could be sure that their message was heard in its entirety. The best were first-class orators, men whose words stirred emotion, influenced thought and changed public policy, especially if the text was later reprinted. The power of the “bully pulpit” lives on in American metaphor.
The pulpit today has lost its monopoly. And in today's cacophony there is no guarantee that any view will be heard without distortion. Its messages must be clear, available and loud enough to compete for the nation's attention. That should be the primary function of anyone acting as an intermediary between a public figure and his or her audience. Two other secondary functions have, however, grown in importance: the attempt to ensure that what is said is favourably received; and the need to filter out in advance phrases or passages likely to be misunderstood or inadvertently to provoke hostility.
More than politicians or company spokesmen, the clergy do not wish to have their words “spun”. They strive to speak from the heart, saying what is necessary rather than what is popular. And though many will blame the row over the Archbishop of Canterbury's remarks on Sharia on media sensationalism, much turmoil could have been avoided if Rowan Williams had thought more about the potential media impact.
The dangers in his proposal to raise the issue of Sharia in a gathering of legal scholars should have been obvious. First, there is the timing: only a week after provocative remarks on Christian-Muslim relations by the Bishop of Rochester, any statement by the Archbishop on this most sensitive of issues would have repercussions far beyond the Royal Courts of Justice. Secondly, there is the issue of clarity. Reports rarely print a full text: was it not inevitable that partial quotation would remove the caveats? And did not Dr Williams himself contribute to what is claimed as distortion by agreeing to a radio interview that inevitably boiled his argument down to a few soundbites? Dr Williams eschews spin. As an academic, he believes he has the vocabulary and articulation to make himself understood. As Archbishop, he speaks, however, not from the lecture podium but from the nation's pulpit. His words must be clear to all. It is failing of the speaker, not the listener, if they are not. It is too easy to blame the media. Some may be sensationalist, partial and short on attention span. But newspapers, radio and television journalists have well-honed instincts for what issues matter. In reporting the rising tensions between faith groups and the new political importance of faith itself, the media have given extensive coverage to the moral and political debate.
There is no evidence that the initial reporting of Dr Williams's remarks was either wrong or distorted. Sensing their explosive nature and likely reaction, the press gave considerable coverage to his intentions and moral stance as well as to the remarks themselves. If the Archbishop finds himself misunderstood, he has only himself to blame.