Whenever anybody resigns, the rumour mill grinds away, understandably so. ‘Why?’, we ask, quickly followed by “what’s the real reason?”
In my case, there have been suggestions that it all got too much or, possibly worse, that I was never going to stay anyway, that I was never serious about my role. Nothing could be further from the reality.
Taking on this role, as a family we agreed I needed to live here. I wanted to give the message that I was serious about this job, serious about what I wanted to achieve, serious about making a difference. So I moved here; my family remaining in England. Taking up this appointment was not just a professional challenge but a personal one also.
My career has been populated by challenge. For example, as a child protection social worker I have taken new-born children away from their mothers in maternity wards. I have placed children for adoption and sectioned people under mental health legislation. I have sat with people who are close to the end of their lives and helped to tell parents their children have passed away.
However, this job has been the most challenging. Yet, because of that, it has also been the most rewarding; which is why my decision to leave has been the most difficult of my life.
In any public role you need to establish credibility but perhaps this was heightened being the first sole Victims’ Commissioner – and a ‘blow in’ at that. I try to blend the personal (human, down-to-earth, interested) with the professional (integrity, honesty, passion). For me it is as simple and as complicated as that.
I came here to advocate for all victims and survivors. People, however, want to know whose side you are on. My answer always has been that I am on the side of victims and survivors. In this place it is as simple and as complicated as that.
I have met with people from all communities, here, in the Republic and in England, in public meetings and in my office; and, perhaps most importantly, sat with them quietly in their homes.
I have listened to them all and tried to serve them without fear or favour. And while the very public and very political disagreements continue around, for example, dealing with the past, the definition of a “victim”, flags, parades and poppies, victims still need everyday practical and emotional support, still need to seek the truth and still need to hope for justice.
I have been uniquely privileged to serve individuals, families and groups. It has been my guiding principle not only to give them a voice but to give them a voice that is heard, listened to and acted upon. That is why we at the Commission championed a wholesale review of the Victims Service. Victims need and deserve better.
However, there inevitably comes a time to move on: sometimes this is forced; sometimes it is circumstances; sometimes it is new opportunities. For me, it is the latter. I have been offered the opportunity to work in another critically important area of public life. I will miss the people, the job and the place I came to call ‘home’.
I will not, however, miss the weather. Eighteen months ago, the metaphorical clouds gathered around my appointment – and have followed me about. I’d like to think that now, with the Commission and the Forum having made significant progress the future is a lot brighter not just for the Commission but for the people who matter the most, the people we serve: all victims and survivors.
4 Comments
Kathryn – this is a place of sides and not just two. Indeed there are sides within sides. The past is still a political play thing and victims – all victims – get caught up in that mess. The big piece that is still missing is the structured process that some ran away from when Haass/O’Sullivan put it on the table. You will know that in the delay and dithering people are being hurt – not healed. Good luck with what’s next. Barney
An alternative farewell
When I was appointed to this role it was for four years and I thought it would be a good career move.
But after a year of non-stop bickering and slabbering I thought ‘My God, what a bloody awful place’, somebody get me outta here.
Am I glad that another job came up, and with NI on my cv, my application was successful.
Now that I’m going, I suppose I have to find some platitudes (can’t say what I really think), so I can return to English civilisation without too many brickbats, though I will claim that things in NI are better due to my good work.
One thing I have learned which will be put into effect: Don’t show me any holiday brochures for NI, I’ve seen enough of that place to last me a lifetime.
A very moving piece Kathryn. I have met four victims commissioners over the years, and in essence the first lot of years my experience was that of a talking shop, people were sympathetic, yes ,but nothing ever got done. I wish that the politicians, and those who purport to “commentate” like the one below from Barney on proposals such as Haass etc, actually understood the very real difficulties for victims in accepting the concept of “moving on”, and rather than trying to shape and influence through use of media, allowed victims to lead it themselves and actually just reported in a way which didn’t allow their own views to seep in.
Anyway, back to Kathryn. The only victims commissioner in my experience who actually promised she would do something, cut through the red tape, and did it. A genuine, caring, compassionate woman who relied much less on civil servants than the previous ones before her, and tackled the thorny issues in an honest, direct and refreshing way. I wish she had stayed another few years, because she was actually affecting change. A woman who treated people as human beings rather than dividing up the baggage. A void is certainly left by her going, and what is Northern Irelands loss, will be the next posts gain.
Are you that brid that went Rwanda for some reason?