On behalf of the Government, the State and its citizens...

 “The shame was not theirs, it was ours.”

More than two decades after the last mother and baby home in Ireland shut its doors, survivors of those institutions have received an apology from the state, delivered by Taoiseach Micheal Martin on Wednesday. A long time coming, it has brought little comfort to the survivors and their supporters.

There is no denying the inhumane, cruel treatment and squalid conditions which were the daily reality of these institutions, and their unthinkable consequences. Yet it’s impossible also to ignore the thread of context that weaves its way through both the Commission of Investigation’s report and Martin’s acknowledgement of the role played by the state and church: a disregard for women’s rights was and is an issue globally; Ireland in the early 20th century was a harsh, unforgiving environment for all of its residents; the path that led the women to the homes began with blame, rejection and abandonment by their families and communities. 

The priest, doctor and nun may loom large; unforgettable also are the boyfriends who disappeared when they were most needed, the father who beat his pregnant daughter, the mother’s disdainful rejection, the schoolfriends who turned their backs. As is so often the case, those close to us can inflict the most hurt and one wonders if these personal wounds form the bedrock of the survivors’ trauma. The public apology has come through but in all but a handful of cases it is too late for the private apologies so dearly needed to heal. 

The message we hear is that those that ran, oversaw and funded the homes were components of a larger dysfunctional system, one which was supported and sustained by the Irish people. And while it may be tempting to lay the blame in its entirety on a faceless state and church by focussing on what the latter did and the former didn’t, that picture is an inaccurate and incomplete depiction of the affair and one which fails to honour the testimony of its survivors. 

Fantasy, celebrity and the desire for more of less.

Fantasy as a coping mechanism is a common tenet of psychology, one of ten key defence mechanisms identified by Anna Freud - we use it as a way to escape our daily realities, avoid problems and explore new ideas before putting them into action. Fantasy isn't intrinsically bad and can be part of a healthy approach to life, for example childhood imagination, indulging in daydreams from time to time, escapism through literature and film, and so on. Like any psychological tool, it can also be detrimental if used to excess or for the wrong ends, like fostering an erroneous belief or putting a creative spin on reality to avoid facing an uncomfortable truth, all the way to full-blown Walter Mitty-style delusion. 

Another more subtle manifestation of fantasy can be the belief that your ideal life is just around the corner; you will be transported there with little effort or consideration of how, any day now. This allows fantasies to co-exist with a more mundane present reality. Consumer society has not hesitated to tap into this propensity. "Better is closer than you think" declares Mercedes Benz's latest advert. The lotto has preyed on the belief in the possibility of an imminent quick fix for centuries. Day to day, we are bombarded with ads promising us that this lipstick or that protein shake is the key to a new dimension.

Celebrity culture is probably the realm which exploits this foible with the most rigour and never more so than now. While past generations admired their icons from afar, mostly on the silver screen or via weekly newspapers, nowadays relatability has replaced exceptionality as the criterion for fame. Social media and 24/7 media coverage have made celebrities more accessible and more real than ever, creating the illusion of "just like me". More and more high-profile figures are moving into the lifestyle space, where their audience is treated to glimpses of Normal Life 2.0.

I'm not one to judge. I have had a long-standing fascination with the British royals and, more recently, a girl crush on Meghan Markle. Occasional titbits of media coverage and instagram snaps all created an impression of someone living their best life, someone to aspire to emulate and, crucially, someone not entirely dissimilar to myself. After all, my inner dreamer reasoned, our shared ground was extensive: both women in our thirties who loved travel, food and fashion, who aspired to do good and to make a difference. It wasn't too much of a leap to imagine that the rosy holiday pictures, beautiful home and picture-perfect gatherings of friends over fine dining lay in my near future, attainable and almost within reach. Of course, admiring from afar, it's easy to discount inconvenient facts that threaten such compelling notions. But isn't that the whole point of a harmless diversion into fantasy?

Reading Finding Freedom made me like Meghan Markle a little bit less, not because of what it revealed of her but because of what I realised about myself. The selective facts I had cobbled together to create and sustain the illusion of similarity could not stand up to the level of detail contained in the book's almost 400 pages. She enjoyed weekends away with George and Amal Clooney, was put up for free in hotels owned by friends, was paid thousands of dollars to appear at events, and so on. My fascination with Ms Markle broke under the weight of such evidence and I lost interest overnight. Sussex-related clickbait no longer pulled me in and news of the recent podcast release inspired little more than indifference.

Celebrities and brand marketers are no doubt aware of the pitfalls of overexposure, so easy to stumble into in the age of social media. After all, too much information can allow a glimpse beyond the veil, laying bare the reality that a better life takes planning and work, and dispelling the fantasy of an easy win. And where would we all be without our daydreams, so diverting and which make us so easy to sell to? 

Culture change and the function of dysfunction

Many of the companies who champion the healthy work environment are *young*. Google, which recently turned 22, is considered by many to be a trailblazer, setting a gold standard that its contemporaries, as well as many up-and-coming start-ups, now strive to emulate. Aspects of this once-unique culture are now commonplace as companies compete to attract and retain talent: free food, comfortable surroundings, Friday drinks, subsidised massages, regular and open communication, stringent recruitment processes which sees only the best, brightest and nicest clear the bar, and so on.

Since everyone is doing it, it's clearly a winning formula or at least not without merits. So should more established entities be taking steps in the direction of their younger and faster-moving peers, and if so, how?

 The prospect of transforming a company's culture is undoubtedly a daunting one. Can habit changes, like introducing a regular team lunch, really make a difference? Which comes first, a productive and happy staff or a positive working environment? Do 'things', like a colourful office space, or a top-end laptop, matter in a real way? 

Based on my experience working in several different workplaces in both the public and private sector, from young, forward-thinking organisations to establishments steeped in tradition and lots in between, I have some insight into what works and what doesn't, and what elements need to be taken into consideration when attempting to change how things are done.

Physical infrastructure undoubtedly plays a role and there are benefits to a move to open-plan beyond optimising use of available space. Dividing people up in offices can mean too much time with a particular colleague or colleagues, creating awkwardness and discomfort, and can be a breeding ground for toxic power imbalances and harassment. On the flip side, creation of such groupings can lead to closed alliances at the expense of the general team spirit. Open plan offices, or offices with transparent boundaries, create the sense of being connected to the wider office community. 

Social infrastructure is equally important. An events committee, feedback mechanisms, regular lunches, development days or a mentoring programme can all help to bring people together and build strong working relationships.

Hiring the right people is also a no brainer - an organisation is, after all, the sum of its parts. However bringing a slew of fresh heads with excellent attitudes and talent on board in an attempt to seed an organic transformation may not be enough. Time and again, I've seen a propensity for idealism and collegiality slowly adapt to survive and progress in a combative environment; often the newbies simply leave. Focusing on recruitment alone is not enough.

As a rule, dysfunction evolves to serves a purpose. Until you address the issues it is designed to solve, there will continue to be recourse to the dysfunction - maybe not all the time, maybe just when stress levels are up, but it will always be there in the background, a part of the organisation's DNA. Hostility to open communication will allow management to bury problems it may not have the resources or time to resolve; characterising any kind of dissent as indicative of a personal failing allows legitimate concerns to be ignored; an iron-clad status quo where staff's popularity depends on their willingness to toe the line achieves the same end. The most important element in ensuring that a culture change sticks is the willingness to acknowledge failings and take real steps to remedy them.

Have social media transformed human communication for the better?

When Mark Zuckerberg unleashed Facebook on an unsuspecting, albeit incredibly receptive, Harvard studentship, communication as we know it began to change rapidly. Now estimated to be worth over 100 billion,  the social media site has become an integral part of young people's lives. Yet, if their young CEO is to be believed, Facebook's mission statement goes far beyond simple dollars and cents.


Zuckerberg has stated that the site "was built to accomplish a social mission — to make the world more open and connected." This goal is to be achieved by the sharing culture that Facebook promotes. Users have a platform to intimate what they’re thinking, feeling and doing with friends, acquaintances and complete random strangers on a moment-to-moment basis. In short, they finally have the opportunity to get their inner life the hell out there.


In 1918, Brinsley MacNamara's novel The Valley of the Squinting Windows provided Irish people with the perfect term for the societies in which they lived, which, if we are to believe what we hear, were insular, suffocating affairs where the public and the private were deliberately and energetically kept separate. The colloquialism is still used today - though it is slowly falling out of circulation as the net curtain is ripped from around Irish lives. Rather than wheeling out the Sunday best once a week and cultivating a "front door" manner for the neighbours, a new generation of technology fiends are dying to talk about themselves, using iPhones, laptops and Blackberrys to tell people what the neighbours don't know yet. 


Nobody is disputing the importance of communication to a healthy society. One of the key characteristics of a well functioning family or society is the ability for clear and direct communication. Thanks to social media, people are communicating more than ever, and it's certainly direct in nature. I'm not online? No problem, just tag me in a post or include me in a tweet to get my attention. However, it's interesting to note that another trait of healthy social groups is the acceptance of differences in feelings and opinions. Facebook's adherence to this requirement is less clear-cut, as many users experience a form of social control unknown to past generations. 


Sure, you can technically say whatever you want, post photos of the more quirky aspects of your life and generally let it all hang out online - but you may suffer the consequences of such individuality if it doesn't fit in with the code of your peers. Friends can and do voice their opinions and disapproval, often by means of humour and teasing, even after you've logged off. As distinct to other forms of human interaction, taunts in cyberspace are harder to address.  


The online communication revolution has fundamentally transformed society. As a character in The Social Network put it, "We lived on farms, then we lived in cities, and now we're going to live on the Internet!" Yet one must ask if the change is merely structural, with the content remaining the same. Have social media merely succeeded in transferring human behaviour, with all its faults intact, to a different medium?