CLASS DISTINCTION AND THE RYAN REPORT

Class Distinction and the Ryan Report

The central tenet of Karl Marx’s philosophy is that all human activity emanates from prevailing economic conditions. An obvious example of this thinking can be seen worldwide in the corelation between poverty and a high crime rate.

The Irish society, which is under the microscope in the Ryan Report, was a class-ridden society. The children in the so-called industrial schools were all very poor. They came from homes that were in serious disarray; for a variety of reasons, these families lived on the margins of their communities. Keep in mind that in the years covered by the report, there were little or no welfare payments to destitute families.

It is a sad reflection on Irish society that those poor kids were blamed for their awful plight. Somehow, the poverty was deemed their parents’ fault and, by some cruel logic, responsibility for their situation, was extended to the children. This culture of blame permeated the borstals, and it was used as a rationale by the Brothers, priests and nuns, for the violent and demeaning mistreatment of the children.

The Catholic Church is a highly-hierarchical organization. The pope is at the top and he is followed by the cardinals, who elected him, to the archbishops, bishops and priests. Below the priests, were the brothers and the nuns. Finally, at the bottom, the laity was expected to follow all the directives that came from above.

In the Irish society of the Ryan Report, the bishops enjoyed exceptional power and privilege. They frequently called their houses “palaces,” and no politician dared contradict their version of what was ethical or moral. They nearly all were educated in the national seminary in Maynooth, which was and is the training college for almost all diocesan clergy.

The local parish priest and his assistant priests had great power and did not hesitate to use it in the parishes throughout the country. Then there were the priests from the various Orders, who shared the power of the altar and confessional with the diocesan clergy, but who very rarely gained one of the prized bishoprics, which were seen as spoils for the Maynooth boys. Their best chance for advancement came after years of missionary work in some foreign diocese.

Brothers and nuns were really handicapped by their lack of power to say mass or hear confession. Like the laity, they were dependent on the priest for the eucharist and the sacrament of penance. However, they had their own fiefdoms in the hospitals and the schools. They largely operated these vital institutions which provided education and hospital care throughout Ireland.

The socio-economic origins of each of these groups were very interesting and tell a lot about the various strata of Irish society. The bishops and their diocesan underlings were nearly all drawn from upper-middle or rich families. Most of the Order priests came from the lower economic echelons of their communities. However, even among the orders, there was some class distinction. For instance, the Holy Ghost Fathers and Jesuits operated the most exclusive high schools in Ireland, and many of their members came from these schools.

The Order priests often resented the dominance of the Bishops, who insisted on keeping their “lessers” in their place. About fifteen years ago, the late Cardinal O’Fiaich visited a number of dioceses in the United States, raising money for a new library in Maynooth College. I know of one diocese in the South, which has over twenty Order priests working in its parishes, where they scoffed at the idea of supporting such a project because, in the past, the low socio-economic status of their families ruled them out from even considering a career as a diocesan priest.

The Brothers also came from poor families. Often, young boys left their homes at an early age to attend juniorates that served as rather harsh training grounds for the future Brothers. For many, it was the only chance they had of a decent education. After completing their training, the various orders of Brothers offered their members a steady job in the respected teaching profession, with no worry about adequate food or retirement benefits.

What about the nuns? There was also a definite pecking order among the many congregations of Sisters. Some orders kept the “riff-raff” out by insisting on a family contribution or dowry from the entrant’s family. The Reverend Mother was a powerful person in many Irish communities, but everyone knew that, in any crunch, the real power resided with the bishops, appointed by a Vatican bureaucracy that had no place for women.

A few days ago, Fr. Vincent Twomey, a prominent theologian who studied under the present pope – presumably, a mark of distinction that gives his words extra credibility – spoke on the BBC about the Church crisis. He said that many of the Brothers, priests and nuns, who perpetrated the abuse in the so-called reformatories, came from big, very poor families, where it seemed a good idea to encourage one or more to opt for the safe haven of the religious life.

He went on to say that, presumably unlike the priests who came from better-off backgrounds, the abusers were “monsters,” “the dregs of society.” They did not have real vocations!

I find his logic very unconvincing. Of course, there were economic considerations in the decisions of so many to become religious Brothers or priests, but to blame the crisis on big families, somehow described as societal dregs, makes no sense, unless we say that all the members of these orders from poor backgrounds were corrupt. And, what is he saying about the integrity and genuine Catholic religious culture of so many large Irish families?

Also, Fr. Twomey should explain how the diocesan clergy all over Ireland had so many child abusers among their members. Very soon, we will have another devastating report about flagrant child abuse by clergy, who worked in the Dublin diocese during the last fifty years.

The abuse of power is at the heart of the Ryan Report, the abuse of powerless children from poor backgrounds by the established authorities of church and state. The Catholic Church must explain how priests and bishops knew – or didn’t want to know – about the terrorizing of children in Catholic institutions and why every last one of them said nothing. It is a well-established moral principle that those who remain silent in the face of evil behaviour share in the guilt for that evil behaviour. Qui tacit consentire videtur. That is the question that Professor Twomey must address.
Class Distinction and the Ryan Report

The central tenet of Karl Marx’s philosophy is that all human activity emanates from prevailing economic conditions. An obvious example of this thinking can be seen worldwide in the corelation between poverty and a high crime rate.

The Irish society, which is under the microscope in the Ryan Report, was a class-ridden society. The children in the so-called industrial schools were all very poor. They came from homes that were in serious disarray; for a variety of reasons, these families lived on the margins of Irish society. Keep in mind that in the years covered by the report, there were little or no welfare payments to destitute families.

It is a sad reflection on Irish society that those poor kids were blamed for their awful plight. Somehow, the poverty was their parents’ fault and, by some cruel logic, responsibility for their situation, was extended to the children. This culture of blame permeated the borstals, and it was used as a rationale by the Brothers, priests and nuns, for the violent and demeaning mistreatment of the children.

The Catholic Church is a highly-hierarchical organization. The pope is at the top and he is followed by the cardinals, who elected him, to the archbishops, bishops and priests. Below the priests, were the brothers and the nuns. Finally, at the bottom, the laity was expected to follow all the directives that came from above.

In the Irish society of the Ryan Report, the bishops enjoyed exceptional power and privilege. They frequently called their houses “palaces,” and no politician dared contradict their version of what was ethical or moral. They nearly all were educated in the national seminary in Maynooth, which was and is the training college for almost all diocesan clergy.

The local parish priest and his assistant priests had great power and did not hesitate to use it in the parishes throughout the country. Then there were the priests from the various orders, who shared the power of the altar and confessional with the diocesan clergy, but who very rarely gained one of the prized bishoprics, which were seen as spoils for the Maynooth boys. Their best chance for advancement came after years of missionary work in some foreign diocese.

Brothers and nuns were really handicapped by their lack of power to say mass or hear confession. Like the laity, they were dependent on the priest for the eucharist and the sacrament of penance. However, they had their own fiefdoms in the hospitals and the schools. They largely operated these vital institutions which provided education and hospital care throughout Ireland.

The socio-economic origins of each of these groups were very interesting and tell a lot about the various strata of Irish society. The bishops and their diocesan underlings were nearly all drawn from upper-middle or rich families. Most of the Order priests came from the lower economic echelons of their communities. However, even among the orders, there was some class distinction. For instance, the Holy Ghost Fathers and Jesuits operated the most exclusive high schools in Ireland, and many of their members came from these schools.

The Order priests often resented the dominance of the Bishops, who insisted on keeping their “lessers” in their place. About fifteen years ago, the late Cardinal O’Fiaich visited a number of dioceses in the United States, raising money for a new library in Maynooth College. I know of one diocese in the South, which has over twenty Order priests working in its parishes, where they scoffed at the idea of supporting such a project because, in the past, the low socio-economic status of their families ruled them out from considering a career as a diocesan priest.

The Brothers also came from poor families. Often, young boys left their homes at an early age to attend juniorates that served as rather harsh training grounds for the future Brothers. For many, it was the only chance they had of a decent education. After completing their training, the various orders of Brothers offered their members a steady job in the respected teaching profession, with no worry about adequate food or retirement benefits.

What about the nuns? There was also a definite pecking order among the many congregations of Sisters. Some orders kept the “riff-raff” out by insisting on a family contribution or dowry from the entrant’s family. The Reverend Mother was a powerful person in many Irish communities, but everyone knew that, in any crunch, the real power resided with the bishops, appointed by a Vatican bureaucracy that had no place for women.

A few days ago, Fr. Vincent Twomey, a prominent theologian who studied under the present pope – presumably, a mark of distinction that gives his words extra credibility – spoke on the BBC about the Church crisis. He said that many of the Brothers, priests and nuns, who perpetrated the abuse in the so-called reformatories, came from big, very poor families, where it seemed a good idea to encourage one or more to opt for the safe haven of the religious life.

He went on to say that, presumably unlike the priests who came from better-off backgrounds, the abusers were “monsters,” “the dregs of society.” They did not have real vocations!

I find his logic very unconvincing. Of course, there were economic considerations in the decisions of so many to become religious Brothers or priests, but to blame the crisis on big families, somehow societal dregs, makes no sense, unless we say that all the members of these orders from poor backgrounds were corrupt. And, what is he saying about the integrity and genuine Catholic religious culture of so many large Irish families?

Also, Fr. Twomey should explain how the diocesan clergy in all dioceses in Ireland had so many child abusers among their members, who came from a different socio-economic group. Any day now, we will have another devastating report about flagrant child abuse by clergy, who worked in the Dublin diocese during the last fifty years.

The abuse of power is at the heart of the Ryan Report. The Catholic Church must explain how priests and bishops knew – or didn’t want to know – about the terrorizing of children in Catholic institutions and why every last one of them said nothing. Qui tacit consentire videtur. That is the question that Professor Twomey must address.