Derek Scally’s first published book explores the past and present of Irish Catholicism and is one of the most thought-provoking reads I’ve encountered this year. Comprised of three sections, Scally begins by taking a deep dive into his own history with Irish Catholicism and the religion’s origins in Ireland. He continues in the second section, “Implosion”, to talk about the fall of the Church after revelations of sexual abuse and other scandals. Finally, the third section gives a comparative reflection on how these events have shaped Irish attitudes in society and the secular realm today.
Scally starts with his early education in Catholic schools in Dublin. Often in religion classes, he would find himself with more questions than answers and no way to remedy the imbalance. By relating his personal story beside historical research, Scally skillfully builds a perspective that colors the entire text. He depicts a religion that encourages devotion, deference and obedience rather than intellectual thought. Scally cleverly links these longstanding practices and mindset to how abuses of power within the Church and the sexual abuse scandals were able to occur. He investigates what it means to know something and the depth of responsibility an individual or a society is burdened with when it does know something. With interviews with parents and children from affected parishes, Scally presents an unbiased view into multiple sides of the story. This section of the book also includes bombshell interviews from Seán Brady which give unprecedented insight into the mindset of church officials.
The text smoothly transitions to exploring how the Catholic church found its way into every corner of the lay person’s life. After Paul Cullen in the 1850s, the church took a heavy hand in education, welfare, healthcare, local social activities and essentially crossed into secular life. This omnipresence of the church allowed it to have a tight control over society and to wield unprecedented influence.
As a person new to the topic, I was fascinated by the section detailing the Magdalene Laundries. While some readers may be bored with how Scally takes the time and word count to explain well-covered events, as a non-Catholic and non-Irish person I appreciate his doing so. Artfully accomplished, the stories of the survivors is illustration enough for a person with no background knowledge on the topic. He also presents history in a modern day context tactfully by recounting his attendance at recent events such as the garden party at Áras an Uachtarain in 2018 and contemporary art exhibitions around Dublin.
This kind of narrative, using the present to explain the past, is effective for Scally’s overall purpose. As a reader progresses through the text, it is clear the author’s intention is to encourage reflection. He uses the section expounding on the laundries to explore another important theme throughout the work: guilt versus shame. Scally reports: “The simplest way I have found for differentiating guilt and shame is this: people who feel guilt for what they have done but feel shame for who they are, or how they are made to feel… Guilt is a wrong that can be righted by the wrong-doer… while shame is what philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre called ‘a haemorrhage of the soul’.” (136) This topic is revisited on multiple occasions in terms of how affected and unaffected members of society view events in Catholic Ireland’s past and manages to relate back to posed issues of personal and societal responsibility.
At points, he draws a Venn Diagram to gather the opinions of interviewees on how society, the secular, and the church interrelate. Scally literally draws a picture of the questions he wants us to reflect upon in several interviews and while it could hardly be made clearer, he never receives the same answer from interviewees. This is a profound strategy for conveying the differing perceptions which exist on the issue.
The final aspect of Scally’s work I want to reflect on is the proposed connection he draws between Irish Catholic Ireland and post-war East Germany. While some have described it as bold and tenuous, I found it gently sprinkled in the text until the final chapters, where it included conscious disclaimers and apologies. While he draws parallels between his feelings of social control and silence, he also carefully keeps the two countries’ histories separate. This seems deliberate so as not to distract from the true purpose of pointing out the us-and-them narrative that exists in these kinds of societies. Scally carefully addresses this narrative to lead the discussion back to the text’s overall goal: self-reflection on the past to build a better, more self-aware present and future.
To his credit, Scally is not pointing fingers and posing unanswerable questions about past society and its ethically difficult issues with his text. He devotes the final chapter to proposing ideas of how to address persisting issues via a citizen’s assembly and makes profound observances about modern Ireland to support his claims. The last two paragraphs bring everything full circle to the present and leave the reader with immense food for thought. It’s a stunning ending to an intensely provocative book.
Overall, I found Scally’s work incredibly insightful, well-balanced, objective, and engaging. He raises topics from personal trauma to generational trauma with supporting evidence from qualified sources which are all listed in the endnotes. The author knows he is dealing with delicate, complex questions and does a commendable job of keeping an even-handed and compassionate tone. The text covers a variety of topics which build upon each other while never losing sight of the author’s goal. I was with impressed by how the overall purpose never gets lost in the minutiae of relaying events spanning centuries.
As a person living in Ireland, but not from here, this book was an eye-opening education on what Irish Catholicism is, its history, and how it still exists in the country and people. This is a well-constructed text that should be considered essential reading for the topic.