Fr. Walter Macken

I lost a friend of more than six decades last week – although lost is the wrong word, for he has gone to a far less troubled world. He was also more than a friend – he was a guide, confidant and often even a confessor.

 His name was Fr. Walter Macken, son of the well-known Irish novelist and playwright, Walter Macken, whose hugely popular historical fiction were international bestsellers in the second half of the twentieth century and are still in print today. He died on May 21.

Fr. Macken was a priest of the prelature of Opus Dei. He spent most of his life in Ireland working as a chaplain in university residences in Dublin and Galway and in Rockbrook Park School in Dublin.

He was born in London  on 10 April, 1938, to where his parents had emigrated a short time before. His mother Margaret (Peggy) was a member of the Kenny family of Galway, daughter of  Tom Kenny, editor of the Connacht Tribune.

In the summer of 1939, when war seemed imminent, the family returned to Galway with their new-born son. Walter senior, already writing and interested in theatre, got a job in the Taibhdhearc as an actor, director and producer.

Walter Og, as he was known in the family, began his schooling in Scoil Fhursa on St. Mary’s Road, Salthill. After a time, however, in 1947, the family – which now included Walter Og’s younger brother, Ultan, – moved to Dublin. There Walter senior got a job as an actor with the Abbey Theatre. Later, after a further spell back in Galway, he became the Director of the Abbey.

While the family lived in Dublin in the late 1940s and early 1950s Walter Og attended Catholic University School and Belvedere College. When they moved back to Galway he attended the Jesuit’s St. Ignatius College and did his Leaving Certificate there. He was a member of the trophy-winning rowing team of the school in those years.

A school friend of those years was Oliver Powell whose family ran the landmark Four Corners store in Shop Street. Powell had already joined Opus Dei at that stage and through his encouragement Wally Og did so as well. His parents were very happy with what they and he saw as a response to a vocation to give his life to God in Opus Dei.

After his Leaving Cert Walter went to University College Dublin for a short time but in 1958 went to Rome to study philosophy in the pontifical Lateran University. After completing his degree there he went to study and work as a journalist in the University of Navarra in Pamplona in Spain.

Then, in the early ‘sixties, the founder of Opus Dei, Msgr. Escriva de Balaguer, now St Josemaria – with whom he had been on intimate terms since his time in Rome – asked him if he would be happy and willing to receive holy orders and serve as a priest in Opus Dei. Without any hesitation he said ‘Yes’. He was ordained in 1962 and after a further short time in Barcelona, he came to London and worked there for a year. He then moved back to Ireland and for the rest of his  life worked pastorally in student centres, schools, providing spiritual accompaniment to souls, giving retreats and teaching.

Fr. Walter had a very engaging personality, was a gifted raconteur, a gifted linguist, musician and sportsman. In mid-life he even ran the Dublin marathon – but did not claim to have broken any records.

He will be sadly missed by his many friends and by all those whom he helped throughout his long and fruitful life.

His death occurred peacefully on the afternoon of May 21 in the care of the sisters and staff of Our Lady’s Manor in Dalkey, Dublin.

Technology, well-being and our future world

It is difficult to pick up a serious newspaper or magazine, or tune in to a serious podcast today, without finding another essay where someone is worrying about modern technology’s dire impact on our mental health, our political life and our literacy. 

Thomas Edsall mused at length in The New York Times (October 14) on ‘The rise of the Smartphone and the Fall of Western Democracy’. He drew on the research and arguments of, among others, Jonathan Haidt and Jean Twenge.

Haidt is  a social psychologist at New York University;  Twenge, is a professor of psychology at San Diego State University.  Their extensive and rigorous research shows that there is a clear correlation — and perhaps a causal relationship — between the rise of smartphones and an abrupt escalation of teenage anxiety, depression and suicidal tendencies, especially among girls growing up in liberal families.

Haidt has launched an international movement to ban smartphones in schools. There have been a number of American and European studies showing that doing so leads to improvements in student performance and behaviour. However, in April 2025 the often contrarian British medical journal The Lancet questioned the evidence supporting these school policies. Some might say, ‘It would, wouldn’t it’.

But that’s just about the smartphone and its power to distract and confuse children.

Edsall also sees a new and major player threatening us all – the growing use of artificial intelligence. In September, Derek Thompson, co-author with Ezra Klein of the book Abundance, expanded and revised concerns about all this in an essay that originally ran in The Argument, an online magazine. “We can”, he wrote, “already see how technology is affecting our capacity to think deeply right now. And I am much more concerned about the decline of thinking people than I am about the rise of thinking machines.”

Thompson argued that students’ use of A.I. is leading to “the demise of writing,” which matters because writing is an act of thinking. This is as true for professionals as it is for students. In “Writing Is Thinking,” an editorial in Nature, the authors argued that “outsourcing the entire writing process to L.L.M.s (Large Language Models) deprives scientists of the important work of understanding what they’ve discovered and why it matters.”

Why does all this matter? Thompson argued it’s the patience to read long and complex texts, to hold conflicting ideas in our heads and enjoy their dissonance, to engage in hand-to-hand combat at the sentence level within a piece of writing — and to value these things at a time when valuing them is a choice, because video entertainment is replacing reading and ChatGPT essays are replacing writing. “As A.I. becomes abundant, there is a clear and present threat that deep human thinking will become scarce,” he said.

The Free Press has also weighed in on this issue. 

In a special feature on what the editors call ‘The Dawn of the Postliterate Society’ they remind us that It’s no secret that young people today are desperate for meaning. A recent report found that 58 percent of young adults experienced little or no sense of purpose in their lives over the past month. Some attribute this to social media. Others, to a lack of religion.

In an essay in the same online publication, James Marriott of The Times (London) explains why the stakes couldn’t be higher. Our liberal democracy, he writes, was built by widespread literacy—the same widespread literacy that is now being dismantled by screens. Unless we start reading again, he says, our civilisation may not survive.

In another article in The Times, Marriott quotes the great American journalist, chronicler of the wild ‘Sixties’, Joan Didion, writing “I write to find out what I’m thinking”.

Marriott says that for anybody whose job involves writing, the evidence is clear: those who don’t read or who outsource their essays to AI lose the facility for complex thought. “Not reading or writing would be unthinkable”

He cites a paper published earlier this summer by scientists at MIT which restates Didion’s thesis with less elegance but with more empirical rigour. The researchers used wearable brain scanners to measure the cognitive activity of a group of students who used AI to help them write their essays and a group who did the work themselves. The AI-assisted writers ‘consistently underperformed at neural, linguistic and behavioural levels’ compared with those who wrote their own essays. They needed to write in order to think.

But is anyone fighting back? According to, again, the indomitable Free Press, someone is. Enter Shilo Brooks, former Princeton professor and the host of Old School, a new Free Press podcast dedicated to the notion that there is one simple way to bring America’s lost generation home: via reading. “When a man is starved for love, work, purpose, money, or vitality,” Shilo explains, “a novel wrestling with these themes can be metabolized as energy for the heart.” 

Good for Professor Brooks – and good for us all. But Gerald Howard, in another New York Times essay wonders if literary fiction – the fiction which tells us the truth about ourselves – despite its resilience since the very beginning of literature with ‘The Epic of Gilgamesh’ and the epics of Homer is not now threatened by “the structural and cultural headwinds of our time.” 

We mean those we have just explored and our thinking world is now agonising about.

“Is this genre  now in danger of extinction from,” he asks, “a declining attention span, a disappearing audience of people educated enough to understand and appreciate it, or a near-future technological onslaught (see: novels written by A.I. entities)? The sense of a possible ending is palpable.”

Nevertheless, Howard, a retired practitioner at the coalface of publishing, is an optimist and he illustrates how great literature has had to struggle against the odds for centuries. Literature is fragile, he admits. “It serves no obvious purpose. It does not feed us or clothe us or, unless you get very lucky, enrich us. But literature is also as close to immortal as any cultural endeavour of humankind has ever been.” 

Moby-Dick, he points out, “the novel that is America’s clearest contribution to world literature, was so misunderstood and reviled upon its 1851 publication that it destroyed Herman Melville’s career. He had to take up work for the rest of his life as a customs inspector on the New York docks, and his obituary in this paper (the NYT) referred to “Mobie Dick.” It was only after his death and the novel’s rediscovery in the early 20th century that it was recognized for the masterpiece it is.”

“In the mid-1940s every one of William Faulkner’s 20 published works was either out of print or very difficult to find. Faulkner had to grind out screenplays for Hollywood studios to make a living.”

Then he won the Nobel Prize and hasn’t been out of print since.

Think of The Great Gatsby, written and forgotten about until it was distributed free to America’s GIs in the Second World War. It now competes with Moby Dick for the title of  The Great American Novel. 

Technology will do great good for the human race. It will probably also do great harm. But we believe that the human spirit is indomitable and so long as it is we can hope that the great works of literature and great works to come will prevail.