Victims of forced adoption step up pressure for UK government apology

Women and adopted children demand Westminster follows example of Wales and Scotland

Women forced to give up their babies for adoption in the 1950s, 60s and 70s are stepping up pressure on the UK government to issue a formal apology following the lead of the Scottish and Welsh parliaments.

The women and their adopted children are urging MPs to demand the government act on the recommendation of a parliamentary committee that called for a retrospective public apology for the violation of human rights and psychological trauma.

The Labour party is also expected to come under pressure to commit to issuing a formal apology should it win the next general election.

An estimated 185,000 women, most of them unmarried teenagers at the time, were coerced into having their babies adopted between 1949 and 1976. Many were sent to mother and baby homes run by state, religious or charitable bodies, where they were made to feel shame and guilt and some were required to do menial labour.

Last year, a parliamentary committee on human rights concluded that the government bore ultimate responsibility for the pain and suffering caused by public institutions and state employees involved in “cruel and brutal” forced adoptions. It called for an official government apology.

The UK government said it was sorry “on behalf of society for what happened” but has not formally apologised.

Michael Lambert, an academic specialising in the welfare state who gave evidence to the committee, said the mothers and their children were “the victims of a terrible injustice at the hands of the state”. Forced adoptions “would not have happened without the direction, sanction, financing, and organisation of the state. The central governments of the time not only supported, but determined and shaped forced adoption practices, and created the framework upon which local practice rested.”

In March, Nicola Sturgeon, the then Scottish first minister, issued a “sincere, heartfelt and unreserved” apology to those affected, saying it was time to “acknowledge the terrible wrongs that have been done”.

Last month, the Welsh government said it was “truly sorry” for the “cruelty” of forced adoptions.

Jill Killington, 73, whose baby was adopted in 1967, said: “The UK government has nowhere to hide after the apologies issued in Scotland and Wales. But it appears to have no empathy or understanding of the devastation caused to thousands of people. Westminster must now act before it’s too late for some of the women whose lives were blighted.”

Her son, Ian Pritchard, 55, said: “The government was at the centre of policies which caused such harm to birth mothers and their children, and yet it’s refusing to take responsibility. It’s an insult.”

Helena Kennedy, one of the UK’s most distinguished lawyers and a Labour peer, said: “England should apologise to the women who had babies taken from them with the state playing a role – although most of all, I think the churches and religions should be expressing shame at their role. The cruelty towards women who got pregnant was a disgrace.”

Bell Ribeiro-Addy, the Labour MP for Streatham, said: “Forced adoptions effectively sentenced hundreds of thousands of women to lives of secrecy and pain. A compassionate government would offer a full and meaningful apology for its failure to prevent the pain and suffering inflicted on mothers and their children by these practices.”

Diana Defries: ‘So many of us were shamed into silence’

Defries was 16 when she became pregnant in 1974. “I was in denial. My relationship with my family was not good.” When the pregnancy was discovered, “all hell broke loose. There was tremendous concern about what the neighbours would think, but no one ever asked if I was OK.”

Defries was sent to a mother and baby home run by nuns, where the girls were allocated tasks, mostly cleaning. When her labour began, she was sent to hospital alone in an ambulance.

“I had no idea what to expect. My abiding memory was that no one spoke to me. I felt very isolated. When my daughter was born, a nurse just said ‘this one’s flagged for adoption’.”

Defries said she has “lots of blanks” about the following days. “I felt disconnected from everything. I now know that’s a classic response to trauma.”

When the baby she called Stephanie was 12 days old, they were taken to the Crusade of Rescue, a Catholic institution, in west London. “When they took her away, my knees gave way. The following week, I was back at school, sworn to secrecy. I didn’t tell anyone for years.”

When her daughter reached 18, she made contact with her birth mother and, after a “rollercoaster ride”, the pair now have a “special relationship”, said Defries.

“I spent a lot of years being angry. Only later did I realise it was an injustice. So many of us were sworn to secrecy, shamed into silence. There are people still searching, still suffering loss and grief. Some are now quite elderly and still dealing with ongoing distress.”

Ian Pritchard: ‘Loss and self-loathing were linked to my adoption’

Pritchard, 55, always knew he was adopted but it was a secret to be kept within his family. “I didn’t look like my parents or my brother [also adopted]. I was incredibly anxious as a child – always looking for approval and fearing rejection.”

In adulthood, he suffered from mental health problems and chronic alcohol misuse. It was only when he sought treatment that he understood “my identity disconnection, my feelings of loss and self-loathing were linked to my adoption”.

Killington, his birth mother, had become pregnant at 16. The family’s GP put her parents in touch with a social worker from the Church Army, who liaised with an adoption society. Killington was not consulted nor given the option of keeping her baby, born in 1967.

When her son turned 18, Killington put her details on a contact register and, nine years later, Pritchard wrote to her. Killington travelled to New Zealand, where Pritchard lives, for his 50th birthday and wedding day.

“Meeting was incredibly intense,” he said. “It’s very difficult to describe what it’s like to be in the presence for the first time of the person who gave birth to you. I felt a very powerful connection.”

When his birth mother had to return to the UK, “it was like losing her again”, he said. Now the pair are in regular contact “like any other parent and child”, and last met in January.

Veronica Smith: ‘When I left the hospital, my brain shut off’

Smith was 24 and working at Butlin’s when she became pregnant in 1964. She asked her mother, a devout Catholic, and her sister for help. They arranged for her to go to a hostel in south London run by the Crusade of Rescue, where Smith stayed for six months, doing housework and scrubbing floors.

Her baby, whom she named Angela, was born in a private maternity hospital. “I still don’t know who paid for it,” she said. She didn’t see her daughter again until 2004.

“When I left the hospital, my brain shut off, I didn’t think about it much. I only told one friend,” she said. But in the late 1980s, Smith had a breakdown and her grief “flooded out”.

Her daughter, whose adoptive family had emigrated to Canada, contacted her in 2002, and two years later they met. “It took a long time for [the relationship] to grow, but this year has been the best ever,” said Smith.

Now 82, she attended the Scottish parliament when Sturgeon made a formal apology. “It was beautifully worded and beautifully delivered.” The UK government should “get on and do it too,” she said.

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