Obscene legacy of church and state
States Of Fear (RTE1)
I had the misfortune, like many others, to spend a year, at the age
of 12, in one of Ireland's brutal boarding schools. Sweets,
chocolate, music and magazines were banned, contact with the girls
was strictly forbidden and those caught uttering a sound after lights
out at eight o'clock were severely beaten.
One classmate was unfortunate enough to be ``sent to the office'' on a
number of occasions, where he was stripped and soundly thrashed over
the knees of the school ``head'' with a leather belt. His buttocks were
severely marked and he subsequently developed a repeated tendency to
defecate in his bed at night.
Devoid of any recourse to help, he attempted to hide his underpants
in the dormitory, leading to further ridicule by his fellow students
and subsequent nervous problems.
Fortunately for those of us under 35, we only suffered the tail end
of a brutal anti-children institutionalised education system, exposed
in its worst excesses by RTE's harrowing and deeply disturbing States
Of Fear, shown on Tuesday last.
Established in 1868, Ireland's 52 industrial schools, run by the
clergy and funded by the state, presided over a century of ``sadism
and starvation'' against many thousands of children, most of whom were
taken from able parents who were still deemed ``unfit' by our courts,
including Mary Norris, who on the word of her parish priest, was
taken from her parents with her six brothers and sisters, including
an infant child, and condemned to a childhood of ``cruelty beyond
belief''.
The religious orders `touted' for children, as they received a state
grant for each child ``similar to half of the annual wage of a farm
labourer''. Despite this, children were subjected to severe
malnutrition - ``we were so hungry we ate grass, we used to steal pig
swill from the buckets'' - accounts were rarely submitted to the
state, and the church made vast profits.
On entry, which could result from ``mitching'' school or stealing an
apple, children were labelled with a number and immediately set to
work ``cleaning and maintaining the schools, labouring on farms and
working in launderettes.
Cruelty was the norm. Many ex-residents recalled tales of absolute
horror, including one suspected murder. One woman told how girls were
forced to sleep in stys with pigs, and how she and others were forced
to whip them afterwards as they walked, half-naked on all fours.
One man told how four boys were beaten so badly for two weeks they
became gibbering simpletons.
The state provided finance at will to the church, and inspections
were but a charade. ``We were warned to smile for the visitors.''
Despite a number of damning reports labelling some homes as
``Dickensian - animals treated better than children'', no action was
ever taken as politicians queued to kiss the bishops' rings.
The media, including RTE, fêted these ``heroic brothers and nuns'' and
most disturbing of all, the communities in which these institutions
were based took no action.
The most disturbing example of the widespread sexual abuse, which one
contributor said made Ireland ``the child molesting capital of the
world'', were the activities of Brother Joseph O'Connor, celebrated on
TV as the man behind the famous Artane Boys Band but in reality, ``a
man wicked beyond words''.
Barney O'Connell, unfortunate enough to draw his wrath in Artane
Industrial School, the world's largest such institution, was told to
strip naked in front of his classmates and was the ``put over his lap,
and as he tightly squeezed my scrotum, beat my bare rectum to a pulp,
and foaming at the mouth, came to orgasm in front of the class''.
Church apologies for their ``evil deeds'' have been inadequate, but the
state has been deafening in its silence. Many ex-residents have been
advised to ``forget the past'' of an ``institutionalised society'' which
condemned hugh numbers to psychiatric homes, lone ``Mother and Baby''
homes and Magdalen Launderettes and a population cowed by an
oppressive church-state coalition.
All survivors are united in their conviction of the guilt of ``church,
state and society'' and warn of the need to heed the lessons of the
past.
Future episodes of this series would do well to highlight the
continued plight of our children, subjected to homelessness, drugs,
and appalling lack of state provided sports and leisure facilities,
the worst primary school funded system in Europe and a continued
belief among the majority of us in corporal punishment in preference
to showing children respect.
Surely the beginning of the redressing of our past deeds would be to
outlaw the physical punishment of our children. Or will that have to
wait another 20 years?
By Sean O Donaíle