PERHAPS at no time, with the exception of the date of its origin, has the Free Presbyterian Church passed through such devastating fire from sharpshooters in the press than it has done in recent months. True, during the Free Mason controversy we were scourged with pitiless vigour by members of the craft but this was more or less confined to the Masonic fraternity and their friends in the press. But in this controversy, though some wise men took part, a host of foolish men and of nondescripts for one reason or other belaboured the Free Presbyterian Church and some of her ecclesiastical courts with all their fancied knowledge, sarcasm, and invective. Newspapers (dailies and weeklies) at home and in the colonies took part in the fray and some of those least acquainted with the merits of the case were the most dogmatic in their verdicts. The press, generally speaking, lent itself too readily to the publication of biased reports and others which were glaringly false. It is only right to say, however, that there were honourable exceptions which, while reporting matter in connection with the Dornoch case, did so with the care that one expects from reputable journalists. Some of the attacks, especially those founded on ignorance, were very bitter. The anonymous critics did not confine themselves to the merits or demerits of the case but took occasion to attack the Free Presbyterian Church in general and some of her ministers in particular. Had similar attacks been made on the reputation of professional men such as doctors and lawyers these anonymous scribes and the papers which published their attacks might have learned that such free handling of men’s reputations is not permitted by the law of this country. It is gratifying to report that some of the papers when pulled up for what they printed expressed regret for doing so. We do not object to fair comment and criticism, however, hard hitting it may be, but the spreading of that which is false is never fair comment and when its falseness is pointed out the rules of courtesy and right dealing between man and man demand that an expression of regret be tendered. The publicity given to the above case is a portent to which the Lord’s people, not only in our own denomination but in other denominations, would do well to take heed. It is quite evident something specially dear to the world has been hit judging by the fierceness and the unscrupulousness of the attack. This is further seen in the anonymous letters received by some of our ministers—one poor wretch after pouring out the venom of his heart signed his letter—Judas Iscariot—a fitter name than he was probably aware of. The whole question of anonymous letters is too wide to be dealt with here so we content ourselves meantime in giving a few extracts from an article which appeared recently in a Glasgow evening paper* entitled: “This Poison Pen Menace: What to do with Anonymous Letters.” In presenting a few extracts, with the kind permission of the Editor, we are not to be understood as homologating the writer’s ecclesiastical position. After a reference to the Irish moonlighters cowardly shooting their unprotected victims from behind a hedge the writer asks: “What moral distinction can be drawn between the moonlighter with the gun and the moonlighter with the pen?” And he answers: “Both are cowards and both are killers—the one in fact, the other in intent.” He then proceeds:—”But this does not solve the problem presented by my opening question. Perhaps I had better be a little more precise. There are three kinds of anonymous letters (1), those that breathe the spirit of kindness and goodwill and are obviously intended to be helpful; (2), those that though purely critical, are courteous alike in matter and in manner; and (3), those that are frankly abusive of oneself, or are written with the thinly disguised object of creating discord in the family circle or of raising barriers of suspicion and mistrust between relatives and friends, or between employer and employee, or (as many of the clergy are well aware) between the minister and individual members of his flock. Of the people in the first and second of these classes it can be said, at least, that their motives are good—the poison of asps is not under their lips; and in most cases, I should say their anonymity is due to shyness and over-sensitive modesty. It is the third class that presents the psychologist and moralist alike with an exceedingly interesting problem. The man who wants to hurt his neighbour, and is afraid to do so openly—which is the case with nine-tenths of the people who write anonymous letters—is obviously a coward. But quite as obviously he is also a fool. For the character of the letter and its anonymity empty it at once of all significance except as the expression of the rancour and hatred that are fermenting in somebody’s splenetic mind. He has a dirty satisfaction of putting his foul thoughts in writing, and that is all—like a man standing in a desert at midnight pouring out his curses on an unseen world. The letter reaches its destination, but the writer is not there to see, and revel in, either the scorn of his victim or his tears. He can only hope that the shot has gone home; and on the strength of this hope, I suppose, he finds a pleasure not unlike that which fills the hearts of the devils in hell when they think of what the soul of man must be suffering at the hands of their emissaries on this earth. No publicist or public speaker troubles his head about anonymous letters of the type I have in mind. He keeps a capacious, asbestos-lined wastepaper basket for that sort of stuff. But in the course of my work I have seen so much of the misery, desolation, and ruin wrought by anonymous letter-writers, that I long for a whip with which to lash the rascals naked through the world. They themselves may know nothing of the heartbreaks their wickedness causes, for many of their victims have the wisdom and the courage to hide their wounds from prying eyes; but the distress is real and abundant, and it is a form of criminality that invariably goes unpunished, unless it amounts to persecution or is accompanied by threats of violence or demands for money. In the majority of cases the object of the anonymous letter-writer is to inflict pain. There is one infallible way of defeating him. Examine the signature of every letter you receive. If there is no signature or merely a pseudonym—”Disgusted” is a favourite word of the rat tribe—put the letter in the fire. You may thereby miss some kind words and wise criticism but you are much more likely to save yourself from heart-burning and annoyance.”
Glasgow Evening News (18th September). The article is from the pen of Canon Wilkinson.—Editor.