As well as sharing his personal story in relation to the mother and baby institutions scandal in our latest podcast episode, Jeff shared with us this accompanying blog to highlight the impact on so many people and families.
Between the early 1920s and the mid to late 1990s, thousands of women and girls in both Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland were admitted—often forcibly or under duress—to Mother and Baby Homes, institutions designed to house unmarried pregnant women and oversee the birth and adoption of their children. Though operating under different governments and religious balances, both jurisdictions shared a common ethos: deep social conservatism, patriarchal structures, and heavy reliance on religious institutions for social care.
There was no legal framework in either jurisdiction that explicitly permitted the detention of women in these homes. Nonetheless, confinement took place under informal but deeply entrenched systems of control:
- In both North and South, most women were admitted under the guise of “voluntary” care, but coercion was routine—by family, clergy, doctors, and state officials.
- Governments in both Irelands effectively outsourced care to religious orders, absolving themselves of responsibility while funding the institutions.
- In the Republic of Ireland, the Registration of Maternity Homes Act (1934) enabled limited regulation of institutions, but oversight was weak, and many homes operated in secretive, isolated conditions.
- In Northern Ireland, poor law relief systems and “moral welfare” agencies handled referrals, often in collaboration with Protestant and Catholic charities, but without formal rights for the women admitted.
Over the decades, admissions grew steadily in both jurisdictions, peaking in the 1960s and early 1970s, before declining sharply with changing social norms and the liberalisation of welfare policies.
- Republic of Ireland: ~56,000 women and ~57,000 children were admitted between 1922–1998.
- Northern Ireland: At least 10,500 women entered Mother and Baby Homes, with a further ~3,000 sent to Magdalene Laundries.
Perhaps the most shocking legacy of these institutions is the scale of infant deaths, often hidden in mass graves or unmarked plots. 9000 child deaths are known about with an average of 15%. Archival data reveals that in 1942, infant mortality among ‘illegitimate’ children reached 157 per 1,000 (vs 72 per 1,000 among legitimate births), and that two Belfast homes recorded 43 infant deaths that year due to severe malnutrition.
These figures illustrate that infants born in institutions faced death rates two to four times higher than children born in the general population. Causes ranged from malnutrition and neglect to treatable illnesses exacerbated by poor sanitation and isolation.
Despite differing constitutional setups and religious majorities—Catholic South and Protestant/Catholic North—the institutional practices bore striking similarities:
- Shame and stigma were central to the system. Unmarried mothers were treated as moral failures, and their children as social liabilities.
- Coercive adoption was widespread. Many women were forced or manipulated into giving up their children, with little or no consent process. Often these were international adoptions aided by diocese borders bearing no resemblance to national borders.
- Institutional secrecy was enforced. Records were often incomplete or deliberately obscured, and survivors continue to face challenges accessing their own histories.
- Lack of legal rights meant that women and girls—many of them teenagers—had no say over their confinement, labour, or medical care.
There are lots of examples and stories I could point you to but perhaps I’ll give you just two. Many of you will have seen the film Philomena with Judi Dench playing the title role of Philomena Lee and telling the story of her fight for truth and answers. Sadly, her son had died by the time she found answers.
Another young mother was Caroline. Caroline was a beautiful child who faced a decade of abuse, neglect and violence and who’s only escape would be admissions to hospital with repeated pneumonia or any chance she got to run far off into the fields to play in a world of make believe.
Her mother turned a blind eye to the reality of their home, herself in many ways a victim of the misogynist social value that dictated that the respectability of having a husband (any husband, even a bad one) was far more important than the guardianship and protection of her own children.
Jeff as a baby
Caroline was raped and found herself pregnant at 14.
Caroline was an illegitimate stepdaughter, someone else’s shame.
Scared, alone and terrified for her future she was taken from a very rural environment to what must have felt the epicentre of hell itself, Belfast in 1972. She was worked to the bone daily, scrubbing and cleaning, and then paraded like a possession in church on Sunday, coerced into confessing her sins, her shame, her wrongdoing before a church full of harridans who looked down their noses and judged her on Sundays but were blind to her plight the rest of the week.
Not a Good Samaritan among them.
The same system that failed her every step of the way during her young life then placed her son first in a children’s home, and then eventually with the very family that had let her down.
Of the many thousands of stories, most bear the same hallmarks. Shame, guilt, loss, grief, anger, and rage. Many cast out or casually told to head off and start again. They’ll have built a life afresh with their secret and their shame, having husbands, children, and grandchildren oblivious to this part of their past which eats away and erodes them from the inside out, like a cancer.
So many Irish women have had to fight for justice and in recent years we’ve seen the fruits of their labours with discussions and inquiries now taking place.
The Republic of Ireland’s Commission of Investigation (2021) concluded that the State was complicit in the incarceration and suffering of tens of thousands of women and children. Many have stated that this inquiry breached its duty.
The republic set up a financial redress scheme which for women and girls living here in England would have been subject to taxation laws and could preclude them from receiving means tested benefits or social care funding.
Recently Liam Conlon MP has had the backing of more than 100 MPs and peers in Support of an open letter calling for Philomema’s Law which would see the implementation of a Capital Disregard bill bringing level the redress scheme with others such those with a claim in the Windrush Scandal.
Last month in Tuam, Co Galway, exhumation work began to recover 796 infant remains from a site of a former home.
In Northern Ireland, the 2021 Truth Recovery Design Panel also recommended a full inquiry, citing widespread abuse and collusion between state and church.
Reports from both north and south affirm that institutionalisation was not accidental—it was systemic, and rooted in deep intersections between state, church, and cultural shame.
The Northern Ireland Assembly recently held its first and second reading of a draft bill to hold an inquiry into these issues within its jurisdiction. This is a monumental move, and full praise should be given to the Assembly and campaigners down the years who have worked tirelessly to get to this stage.
It is not without its issues and many women, and their children feel let down and re-traumatised by the shortcomings of the draft bill. However, as it meets at committee stage there is still hope to get this right. But that’s a matter for the Assembly and its elected members.
As the current Chairman of the Health Overview Policy & Scrutiny Committee for Essex, I believe there is a role for Essex County Council to play in the Mother and Baby Home Scandal.
There are just under 12000 people in Essex who identify as Irish, which is about 0.8% of the county’s population.
Jeff and his mother Caroline on their way to Buckingham Palace
Scrutiny can investigate how best to link up those impacted by this with the well-established and well-funded organisations that exist in Northern Ireland specifically for this subject who can offer advice, and counselling services and ensure people are kept in the loop.
We could reach out to larger organisations through our comms capacity such as the Catholic and Anglican diocese, NHS partners and others.
We can engage with Healthwatch Essex who have done considerable work on their Expressions of Trauma exhibit and Trauma Ambassador workshops.
As Councillors, just being aware is a good start for those of us with Irish communities.
There will be people in our communities known or unknown that may require our support.
I know of four people. Every single one of you knows one. You know me. And you know of Caroline, my mother.
You can listen to the podcast on Spotify or YouTube, or watch Jeff on TikToks.
If you have also been affected by anything discussed and would like to access support, get in touch with our Information and Guidance team.