Brendan Hoban: Tackling the growth of complaint culture
Western People 31.3.2026
It’s only recently I’ve discovered a writer whose real name escapes me but who has chosen the unlikely pen name, Theodore Dalrymple. Among his titles are In Praise of Folly, Not With a Bang But a Whimper, Life at the Bottom, Our Culture, What’s Left of it, The Best Medicine, The Cult of Sentimentality and Spoilt Rotten.
A retired doctor and psychiatrist, Dalrymple has worked in a general hospital and in a prison and now writes a weekly column in The Spectator, a British politically conservative and cultural news magazine that allows him to chart and to dissect what he sees as the social (and other) decline of the UK. A favoured theme is that the prevalent views within western intellectual circles minimise the responsibility of individuals for their own actions – as per his book titles, above.
The following paragraph is a typical theme:
There seems to be a curious paradox in life today: the more concerned we are about mental distress in society, and the more sympathetic we are to it, the more of it there seems to be, notwithstanding any improvement in material conditions. Perhaps this increase in distress is merely the result of awareness of what was previously hidden or not spoken of; but perhaps also the attention given to such distress actually helps to create it. The demand creates its own supply, so to speak; and the dog of misery forever chases the tail of therapy. (That paragraph bears a re-reading!)
The quote is from a recent (28.2.2026) review by Darlymple in The Tablet of a book by a consultant psychiatrist, Gwen Adshead, coming to the end of her career who had specialised in looking after people who had committed atrocious crimes as well as those who had suffered an appalling event or accident that subsequently affected their mental capacity. Their stories are related in a recent book, Gwen Adshead, Unspeakable: Stories of Survival and Transformation after Trauma, published by Faber, £20.
Adshead examines eight different kinds of trauma: a former Japanese prisoner who suddenly relives his experiences after 50 years; a refugee from former Yugoslavia whose child will not speak; children who were cruelly treated in orphanages; a man whose parents escaped from Nazi Germany and whose close family was killed and who knew nothing of their suffering and now suffers himself; a man taken by terrorists on a long haul flight; and a man who was the target of a racial attack in a park; and so on.
Dalrymple honours a number of strengths of the book. First, there is a recognition that human beings ‘are not simply ivory balls on a billiard table that go off in a predictable direction according to simple physical laws when they are struck by another ball’. Second, there is no automatic connection between trauma and a person’s reaction to it – as temperament, life experience, social circumstances moderate that reaction. Three, human beings are affected by but not determined by the experience of trauma.
But, as might be expected, Dalrymple has some reservations about Dr Adshead’s ‘basic stance’ and wonders out loud whether the notion that there is a psychological antidote to suffering after a traumatic experience ‘actually adds to the aggregate of such suffering’.
It is a telling point. Patients of whatever order, when they visit their GP or consultant are often given to expecting one or more of the following results: an instant diagnosis of the condition; a prescription that will speedily produce an antidote to that condition; and a guarantee that the antidote will obliterate – as speedily as possible – whatever suffering is involved. And Dalrymple concludes that such impossible demands lead to resentment, adding an additional layer of mental discomfort to the original distress.
This touches a popular nerve and, as we know, there is an unhealthy growth of a culture of complaint among those who inhabit a world whose defining impulse is to over-visit doctors’ surgeries regularly in the mistaken belief that there is something every doctor can do to relieve every possible ailment – despite the obvious complexity of diagnosing everyone who calls to see them and despite the advent of the stresses and strains that inevitably attend the diminishments of old age. This culture is heightened by a media compulsion to give soft interviews to anyone and everyone who has a bone to pick ‘with doctors’ or ‘with the health service’ or with those whose impossible health expectations are regularly disappointed. Indeed, embedded in this culture of complaint is the growth of ‘psychological injury’ and the additional distress that it is said to visit particularly on those whose media day in the sun makes good television.
Dalrymple points out that where people are rewarded, financially or in some other way, for psychological injury, they will either claim to suffer or actually suffer, from it – ‘since suffering is itself reflective and to some extent dependent on expectation’. And, as is clear, when there is the prospect of financial compensation, with constant repetition and enhanced by media attention, the patient can become convinced that psychologically as well as physically they must be even worse than they imagined and suddenly they are being advised by specialised legal experts on how to represent their illness in a court of law. A comparative condition, it seems, afflicts the present unworthy occupant of the Oval Office where Donald J. Trump recently confessed that because of his personality, he needed the psychological boost of personally taking charge of Greenland.
It is instructive that the Irish government is at present reviewing the ‘no foal, no fee’ legal practice in which solicitors take on what they regard as promising litigation cases by covering legal fees and providing a ‘no foal, no fee’ security for reluctant litigants. The hope is that banning such cases might reduce the number of legal challenges, particularly to planning and environmental decisions and moderate the inevitable trauma for all concerned.
A wise move, no doubt Theodore Dalrymple would agree.

To my thinking “the culture of complaint” helped fuel the fire for FALSE sexual abuse allegations. These accusations weld power and might. For the victim it can be a blow worse than death. Today, Cardinal Quellet from Quebec is a good case in point.
It seems that any indication a Catholic cleric has anything sexual about him is seen as scandal by zealous church folk. It also seems that the same folk zealously spy out any suspicious touch or glance to construct a sexual profile of the cleric. The Scarlet Letter and The Valley of the Squinting Windows combine. The media run with this and vast sums of money come into play. “I was sexually assaulted by the Cardinal” always makes a good headline. “What was the abuse?” “He put his hand on my shoulders and I felt uncomfortable.” “Anything else, my child?” “His hand touched the small my back for three seconds. I had to avoid the church so as not to run into him again. I was traumatized for decades. I have found the courage to speak out only now.” It is usually amazing how very slight the improprieties charged against clerics turn out to be, but there seems to be a culture in which they are routinely and ritually vamped up to abuse, assault, and rape. Common sense is silenced and lunacy prevails. Another routine ritual meme is the tale of altar boys guzzling altar wine who are interrupted by a sex-mad cleric intent on irrumation. Five people were falsely imprisoned on the basis of this.
Ok yes – there have indeed been outrageous cases of false allegation against innocent clerics. None was worse than the persecution of Fergal O’Connor OP by a total fantasist exploiting the ‘attention economy’. (I personally remember Fergal as a brilliant, saintly teacher in UCD during Vatican II. Just one lecture, on the principle of the separation of powers in the US constitution, sticks in my mind as though delivered yesterday.)
It would also be overreach, however, to insist – or seem to imply – that no cleric could ever have truly abused a child, to horrific effect. We need to be sensible about this, realise that both kinds of atrocity have indeed occurred, and hold to account all abusers of power equally, praying for the victims of both.
I also wonder if clergy today in their training are reminded, often, that Jesus, their master, was also falsely accused? And that he insisted that he had ‘overcome the world’ – i.e. the fear of what people might think of him? That challenge, and promise, is the patrimony of all who risk themselves for truth today – and a fundamental meaning of Easter.
Trauma of any kind – even childhood neglect and loneliness – can destabilise judgement and personality and create what is called ‘factitious disorder’ – a proclivity for false story telling – not just to gain medical attention as in the case of the sub-type ‘Munchausen syndrome’ – but against any professional the sufferer encounters, as a means of making themselves the centre of a police investigation. To be warned about this is to be given also a shield against it, should it occur. Experienced police too are aware of it as a possibility – so all is far from lost if false allegation occurs.
Somebody significant— can’t remember who now— once said “ Our sexuality is the primary font of our humanity “
But, Joe, we must never downplay the horrendous, life changing abuse so many children suffered —- the most vulnerable, disadvantaged and poorest children— suffered at the hands of priests, Christian Brothers and nuns.
Why am I still having to say this?!!
And, yes, I do know it happened in the family home too.
“Why am I still having to say this?!!”
Because actual concrete cases are drowned in a mass-produced generic rhetoric that in the end just leaves people cold. https://www.jstor.org/stable/24347746
That generic rhetoric is trotted out against any resistance on behalf of common sense as well as when an accused individual defends himself or is defended by another.
This applies particularly to the vicious propaganda against the nuns propagated in films such as The Magdalen Laundries and Philomena, which arouse emotions in viewers which they think to be virtuous emotions.
“I also wonder if clergy today in their training are reminded, often, that Jesus, their master, was also falsely accused?”
Priests, who have meditated so often on the first Station of the Cross, are conditioned to be like a lamb who before its shearers is dumb. I doubt if there was any instruction at all on their human and civil rights or on potential threats to these; or on how to defend them against threats coming from civil authority or against church authority.