Clodagh Finn: Negotiating with religious bodies is treating them with kid gloves
Sheila Nunan will hold confidential discussions with church institutions, seeking a “meaningful contribution” towards a €800m redress scheme that compensates just some of the survivors of mother and baby institutions. Picture: Eoin O'Conaill/BBC
We might start on a positive note. The appointment of an expert negotiator to discuss financial redress with religious bodies is welcome.
Sheila Nunan, former president of the Irish Congress of Trade Unions (ICTU), will hold confidential discussions with church institutions, seeking a “meaningful contribution” towards a €800m redress scheme that compensates just some of the survivors of mother and baby institutions.
Without meaning to be fatalistic, she faces a gargantuan task and will need every shred of negotiating skill in her armoury.
That those negotiations are necessary at all underlines the shameful reluctance of church leaders, religious congregations and lay Catholic organisations to face up to the systemic abuse that was a feature of mother and baby institutions and county homes over several decades.
A second appointment last week reminds us of the nature of that abuse. Daniel MacSweeney, a former International Committee of the Red Cross envoy, was appointed to oversee the excavation of the remains of some 800 babies and infants buried in a septic tank in Tuam.
The disregard and casual cruelty of burying babies in such inhumane circumstances has attracted headlines all over the world. The experiences of the tens of thousands of women forced or coerced — there was little choice — to give up their babies in the last century have also drawn international attention.
The sad truth is that those shocking stories have been minimised at home. At least by official Ireland. Advocates, survivors, and opposition politicians have continually tried — and failed — to point out the gaping holes in a redress scheme that excludes 40% of those affected, some 24,000 people.
What really rankles now, however, is that the church and its institutions — the wrongdoers — have been appointed a negotiator, while those who suffered at their hands have not even had their voices heard, much less been offered a mediator.
It’s a point made by Claire McGettrick, co-founder of Adoption Rights Alliance and Justice for Magdalenes Research, in a razor-sharp tweet:
She also used two emojis to hammer home the point; an image of a handshake for religious orders and a big, paternalistic parliament building for affected people.
If appointing a negotiator finally shames the church into making a “significant contribution” — the vague term used by Minister for Children Roderic O’Gorman — then it will be worthwhile. At least for the people included in a scheme that shuts out those who were boarded out and those who spent less than six months in an institution.
The appointment of a negotiator, though welcome, also throws into stark relief the many, many failures in addressing the traumatic legacy of Ireland’s mother and baby institutions.
As Claire McGettrick pointed out, a church negotiator highlights the repeated lack of willingness to engage with the people affected. “I’m not aware of any 'negotiations' with affected people on the Information Bill, the Burials Bill, the Redress Bill (or the matter of investigations at burial sites). Where were the ‘negotiations’ on the Special Advocate role?” she says.
It’s infuriating, then, to see the religious orders being invited to the negotiating table — behind closed doors — while the survivors have been shut out and, worse, ignored or disbelieved.
It also reminds us that Minister O’Gorman has no way of legally compelling religious orders to contribute to the scheme. In other words, since discussions began in 2021, religious congregations and lay Catholic organisations have been treated with kid gloves.
How else can we interpret the fact that there hasn’t even been agreement on how much to contribute to the scheme yet, let alone a red cent in compensation?
It is hard not to blame the delay — perhaps ‘denial’ is a better word — on the partial nature of the final report of the Commission of Investigation into Mother and Baby Homes.
The report described the testimony of more than 500 survivors as “contaminated” and found no evidence of abuse or forced adoption. Yet it still stands.
Even if it had revealed the true scale and depth of what happened to women pregnant outside marriage, its focus was narrow. It investigated just 18 institutions and the 56,000 women who gave birth in them over seven decades.
‘Investigate’, though, is not the right word. Here are just two reminders of the yawning gulf between evidence presented to the Commission and its subsequent findings:
Finding: “There are a small number of complaints of physical abuse. The women worked but they were generally doing the sort of work they would have done at home.”
Witness: “I arrived at Bessborough… and during the summer months my job was cutting the lawn with scissors. I did this every day in a line with a group of other women. We were not allowed to stop when we felt tired. In the winter months I had to polish and scrub the corridors… I worked seven days a week every week until I went into labour.”
Finding: “They were not ‘incarcerated’ in the strict meaning of the word but, in the earlier years at least, with some justification, they thought they were.”
Witness: “We were locked in and there was absolutely no way of getting out.”

The failure to recognise the trauma inflicted on the women sent to these institutions and the lasting effect on their children makes it easier for the church to shirk its financial responsibilities.
While Minister O’Gorman insists that the Commission’s report tells only part of the story, his own use of language reveals a failure to fully understand that story. For instance, he insists on referring to legislation to give adopted children their birth certs as “ground-breaking”.
Restoring a right denied for decades breaks no new ground; it simply ends a glaring injustice.
Yet that kind of thinking — ie, that the authorities are somehow doing affected people a favour — pervades many of the partial measures that have been rolled out over the last few years.
In relation to the church, the softly-softly approach is nothing new either. Recall the controversial indemnity agreement, brokered by former Education Minister Dr Michael Woods in 2002.
Under its terms, the financial contribution from 18 congregations was capped at €127m in a clerical abuse scandal that cost over €1bn.
True, this Government is the first to introduce any legislative measures at all, but that does not mean it has done the people it purports to help any favours. Many survivors will tell you that it has simply made matters worse. Many, too, say they believe the Government is waiting for them to die to escape the issue of redress.
You have to think they have a point. The continuing delay is not only a betrayal, but an enduring stain on Ireland's human rights record.
As a person born in a mother and baby’s institution, I don’t call myself a survivor, but I agree that the Government’s too-little-too-late actions have made matters worse.
On the subject of redress, it’s hard to put it better than Sinn Féin TD Kathleen Funchion. Last October she said it was “absolutely disgusting”, given their respective wealth, that pharmaceutical companies responsible for illegal vaccine trials would not pay towards redress, while religious orders may not pay.
“They should be pursued strongly”, she said.
Many others on the opposition benches in the Dáil and Senate have echoed her views. And I salute them.
Does appointing a negotiator to talk to religious bodies constitute strong pursuit? I think not, though that will not stop survivors wishing Sheila Nunan luck. She’s going to need it.







