TORTURE is a strong word.
It conjures images of stonings and floggings in
fundamentalist societies, of waterboarding and sensory deprivation by
secretive security agencies and of maimings and mutilations by rampaging
armies.
The idea that it could be used to describe the treatment of vulnerable women by Christian organisations in a civilised country like Ireland seems absurd.
The idea that it could be used to describe the treatment of vulnerable women by Christian organisations in a civilised country like Ireland seems absurd.
Until you read the United Nations
Convention Against Torture, which Ireland ratified nine years ago.
By that document’s definition, torture is: "Any act by which severe pain or suffering, whether physical or mental, is intentionally inflicted on a person for such purposes as obtaining from him or a third person information or a confession, punishing him for an act he or a third person has committed or is suspected of having committed, or intimidating or coercing him or a third person, or for any reason based on discrimination of any kind, when such pain or suffering is inflicted by or at the instigation of or with the consent or acquiescence of a public official or other person acting in an official capacity".
Whether for the purposes of punishment for their "wanton" ways or for reasons of discrimination against those whose marital, family or religious status did not fit the thinking of the day, the women incarcerated in the Magdalene Laundries were tortured.
The physical hardship they endured was intense, and the mental suffering even more so. And all the while, the state at the very least acquiesced, but probably consented, and in some ways — such as the use of laundries as remand centres for young women facing criminal trials — may even have instigated the abuse.
And yet when the state addressed the issue at a session of the UN Committee Against Torture (UNCAT) last month, the approach was to play it all down. The director general of the Department of Justice, Sean Aylward, spoke of "a number of women" who spent a "period of time" in the laundries who "feel that they were victimised and ill-treated".
The "alleged events" took place "a considerable time ago" and the information available was "limited". These were "privately run institutions" and the majority of women had gone to them "voluntarily or with the consent of their parents". They had been "invited" to make complaints to the gardaí but had not done so.
Mr Aylward did acknowledge that some women had "harrowing" tales to tell of their time in the laundries, but he added, "to be fair" to the religious orders involved, their side of the story had not yet been heard.
Everything in his statement suggested that the state would cross a thousand miles of burning desert to reach one grubby puddle of putrid water in which to wash its hands of the whole affair.
But that is increasingly becoming an untenable option. UNCAT’s conclusions on the subject, published yesterday, are unequivocal. It says it is "gravely concerned" at the state’s failure to protect the girls and women of the Magdalene Laundries, by failing to regulate their operations or inspect them or to hold a "prompt, independent and thorough investigation" into the allegations of ill-treatment at the institutions.
It calls for such investigations to take place without delay, for the prosecution and punishment of perpetrators and for redress for victims, including an "enforceable right to compensation including the means for as full rehabilitation as possible".
These, too, are strong words and, for a country with a recent history of painful, divisive and — it can not be avoided — expensive trawls through the darker periods of our past, they do not make for easy listening.
IT LOOKS like we are once again going to have to go down the path of revisiting a time when this was often a cruel, callous and cowardly country to live in.
It is not a pleasant prospect for anyone but, handled properly, it has the potential to be cathartic and to allow the women who live with the scars of the laundries, and those who mourn for mothers, sisters and friends lost to those institutions, some sense of justice.
We should know within days what the Government intends to do but, whatever approach they take, the outcome will depend heavily on the attitude of the religious orders involved and, as we also know from our experience of statutory inquiries of this type, religious organisations do not generally engage with them willingly.
Justice for Magdalenes, the campaign group that has fought for recognition and redress for the laundry workers for almost two decades, did not whoop with delight or trumpet a victory yesterday, because they know the real work has yet to begin.
To delay that work any longer would not only be an injustice, a negligence or an embarrassment. UNCAT have a word for it and it’s not too strong in the circumstances.
By that document’s definition, torture is: "Any act by which severe pain or suffering, whether physical or mental, is intentionally inflicted on a person for such purposes as obtaining from him or a third person information or a confession, punishing him for an act he or a third person has committed or is suspected of having committed, or intimidating or coercing him or a third person, or for any reason based on discrimination of any kind, when such pain or suffering is inflicted by or at the instigation of or with the consent or acquiescence of a public official or other person acting in an official capacity".
Whether for the purposes of punishment for their "wanton" ways or for reasons of discrimination against those whose marital, family or religious status did not fit the thinking of the day, the women incarcerated in the Magdalene Laundries were tortured.
The physical hardship they endured was intense, and the mental suffering even more so. And all the while, the state at the very least acquiesced, but probably consented, and in some ways — such as the use of laundries as remand centres for young women facing criminal trials — may even have instigated the abuse.
And yet when the state addressed the issue at a session of the UN Committee Against Torture (UNCAT) last month, the approach was to play it all down. The director general of the Department of Justice, Sean Aylward, spoke of "a number of women" who spent a "period of time" in the laundries who "feel that they were victimised and ill-treated".
The "alleged events" took place "a considerable time ago" and the information available was "limited". These were "privately run institutions" and the majority of women had gone to them "voluntarily or with the consent of their parents". They had been "invited" to make complaints to the gardaí but had not done so.
Mr Aylward did acknowledge that some women had "harrowing" tales to tell of their time in the laundries, but he added, "to be fair" to the religious orders involved, their side of the story had not yet been heard.
Everything in his statement suggested that the state would cross a thousand miles of burning desert to reach one grubby puddle of putrid water in which to wash its hands of the whole affair.
But that is increasingly becoming an untenable option. UNCAT’s conclusions on the subject, published yesterday, are unequivocal. It says it is "gravely concerned" at the state’s failure to protect the girls and women of the Magdalene Laundries, by failing to regulate their operations or inspect them or to hold a "prompt, independent and thorough investigation" into the allegations of ill-treatment at the institutions.
It calls for such investigations to take place without delay, for the prosecution and punishment of perpetrators and for redress for victims, including an "enforceable right to compensation including the means for as full rehabilitation as possible".
These, too, are strong words and, for a country with a recent history of painful, divisive and — it can not be avoided — expensive trawls through the darker periods of our past, they do not make for easy listening.
IT LOOKS like we are once again going to have to go down the path of revisiting a time when this was often a cruel, callous and cowardly country to live in.
It is not a pleasant prospect for anyone but, handled properly, it has the potential to be cathartic and to allow the women who live with the scars of the laundries, and those who mourn for mothers, sisters and friends lost to those institutions, some sense of justice.
We should know within days what the Government intends to do but, whatever approach they take, the outcome will depend heavily on the attitude of the religious orders involved and, as we also know from our experience of statutory inquiries of this type, religious organisations do not generally engage with them willingly.
Justice for Magdalenes, the campaign group that has fought for recognition and redress for the laundry workers for almost two decades, did not whoop with delight or trumpet a victory yesterday, because they know the real work has yet to begin.
To delay that work any longer would not only be an injustice, a negligence or an embarrassment. UNCAT have a word for it and it’s not too strong in the circumstances.