In the church, "the burden of proof should rest with those who advocate secrecy in any particular case," Shaw says. Yet, what concerns him is not "legitimate secrecy of the kind required to protect confidential records and people's reputations." Rather, he is "concerned with the stifling, deadening misuse of secrecy that does immense injury to communion and community in the church."

Shaw appears to write in two modes here: as a historian and as a commentator on church affairs. The second mode shouldn't surprise anyone. Shaw contributes frequent commentary and opinion to the religious press. But, for my money, this book is at its best when Shaw presents the recent history of church social communications; his historical analysis should engage any reader.

Let me point particularly to Chapters 2 and 3 where Shaw investigates secrecy's ebb and flow in the handling of information by church leaders, especially from the time of the First Vatican Council (1869-70) up to our current decade, punctuated as it has been in the U.S. by the clergy sex abuse crisis.

Shaw became a top communications official for the U.S. bishops in 1969. The Second Vatican Council in the mid-1960s "generated enormous journalistic interest in the church," he recalls. Yet, in his new position he found that "the relationship between the bishops and the media appeared headed for an all-time low." The reasons why make for compelling reading.

In "Nothing to Hide," Shaw states that he writes as "a conservative Catholic" committed to his church's welfare and convinced that "the abuse of secrecy is bad for it."

Shaw informs readers, however, that many fellow conservatives appear not to share his concern about church secrecy. His writing, he also notes, incorporates "many anecdotes," which "add up to a disturbing picture." I felt, indeed, that many anecdotes he selected to illustrate his concerns for the church had a distinctly conservative flavor themselves.

"Nothing to Hide" addresses not only secrecy, but what Shaw calls its "cousins." They include "stonewalling, happy talk, deception, failure to consult, the de facto suppression of public opinion, the rejection of accountability, the repudiation of shared responsibility on clericalist grounds."

Shaw is clearly concerned about clericalism. He thinks that "for the clericalist culture, secrecy was the only conceivable response" when the clergy sex abuse crisis erupted; but secrecy "allowed a serious problem to become a disaster for abuse victims, for innocent priests who found themselves tarred with the same brush as their guilty brothers, for confused, frightened bishops and eventually for the whole church."

Special aspects of contemporary social communications arise quite naturally in the course of this book. I found something Shaw said about name-calling of interest, though briefly mentioned. I've noticed in my own work as a church communicator that name-calling, in certain quarters on both left and right in the church, seems to have come into vogue as a means of dismissing points of view one doesn't share.

Shaw mentions name-calling when discussing Internet blogs. He says, "Every blogger is free to say very nearly whatever he wants, which often means questioning the motives of ideological opponents and calling them names." He suggests this isn't healthy or helpful for the church.

Secrecy is of concern well beyond the church. It is hard nowadays not to notice how often reporters ferret out and reveal information that some institution or other hoped to keep private. My question, then: To what extent does secrecy even remain an option?

That question receives a response when Shaw quotes a letter from an elderly bishop who, speaking of the church's sex abuse crisis, told him that "when the dam of secrecy finally broke -- as it always will -- the whole church suffered for its lack of candor." The bishop said, "More scandals come from attempting to control access to truth than ever came from honesty and openness."