Irish State
Small Things Like TheseThe Irish State is named in the novel’s closing note as a partner of the Catholic Church in running and financing the institutions at the center of the book’s moral crisis. Though no state official appears in the central action, the State’s responsibility gives the convent’s local power a wider institutional dimension: the harm is not presented as the work of isolated individuals alone, but as a system sustained by public as well as religious authority.
Institutional Role and Public Silence
The novel’s town encounters the convent through visible respectability and economic connection. Its laundry serves restaurants, guesthouses, a nursing home, a hospital, priests, and well-off households; people praise the work for returning linen as good as new. Alongside that reputation circulate accounts of girls made to work from dawn until night, and of unmarried mothers hidden away after giving birth, with babies sent abroad for adoption. The narration stresses that gossip is not all reliable, so these reports do not by themselves establish the State’s specific actions. The closing note supplies the broader historical frame: the institutions were run and financed by the Catholic Church in concert with the Irish State.
That partnership contrasts with the way responsibility is deflected in ordinary conversation. After Bill Furlong encounters girls inside the convent, Eileen argues that their situation has nothing to do with the family and points to the nuns’ punctual payments and the need for a fire. Her response links household and commercial dependence to the ease of treating institutional abuse as somebody else’s concern. The story does not depict a state intervention in this scene; instead, it shows how silence and practical interests help leave the institution undisturbed.
Human Consequences and Historical Record
The final note places the fictional encounter beside the scale of the historical record. It states that Ireland’s last Magdalene laundry did not close until 1996, that the number of women and girls confined and made to labour is unknown, and that records from the laundries were destroyed, lost, or made inaccessible. It gives ten thousand as a modest estimate and thirty thousand as probably more accurate. The uncertainty is itself significant: the surviving record cannot fully account for the people whose work and lives went unacknowledged.
The note also records the consequences for children. It says that many women lost their babies and that the number of infants who died or were adopted from mother-and-baby homes is unknown. The Mother and Baby Home Commission report found that nine thousand children died in the eighteen institutions it investigated. In 2014, historian Catherine Corless made public her discovery that 796 babies had died between 1925 and 1961 in the Tuam home, County Galway. These details do not assign every individual death to a particular State decision; they establish the scale of institutional harm within the Church–State partnership the note names.
Accountability and Narrative Significance
The note identifies 2013 as the year the Irish government first issued an apology over the Magdalene laundries, delivered by Taoiseach Enda Kenny. Its placement at the end of the novel makes public acknowledgment a belated counterpart to the story’s intimate moral choice. In the main narrative, Furlong initially retreats from a girl’s request for help, while the people around him invoke limits, routine, and the perceived cost of involvement. His eventual decision to help does not undo institutional history, but it exposes the moral failure of waiting for someone else to act.
The Irish State therefore functions less as a visible character than as part of the structure behind the convent’s authority and the history disclosed in the closing note. The State’s partnership in running and financing the institutions, the destruction or inaccessibility of records, and the delayed apology frame the novel’s question about responsibility: when harm is sustained by powerful institutions and normalized by a community, personal courage matters, but it cannot substitute for public accountability.
