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DRIVING ELEPHANTS AND SOCIAL CHANGE
WORDS: NESSA O'MAHONY The entrepreneur is a familiar figure but the social entrepreneur is a less familiar concept. So what exactly is it? Caroline Casey, initiator of the Aisling Foundation and the Ability Awards, explained the notion to me when we met at her office in Lad Lane, Dublin, recently. “For me a social entrepreneur is somebody whose impact is not measured necessarily by their bank balance but in the social change they create. We work for social change, but we have all the entrepreneurial skills.” According to Casey, she hadn’t considered herself to be one until interviewed for a book on social entrepreneurs in 2006. She then realised that the working definition exactly matched what she was trying to achieve. But her own role models were drawn from much closer to home: “My role models are people like my father or other people who I see doing incredible things. I love people who are a bit different and who haven’t gone about life in the same way, who’ve got over adversity.” Casey’s affinity with people who have conquered adversity stems from experience; she was born with ocular albinism, a genetic condition that leads to severe visual impairment. Her sister was also born with it but, unlike Caroline, had more obvious symptoms. Caroline’s parents took a decision that was to have a profound impact on her entire life: “I was about three years old when Mum and Dad realised I had this condition. My sister was born after me and she had it but her eyes were very crossed so it was very obvious. They made the decision, knowing that I seemed to be able to get around, that ‘look we’re not going to tell her – we’re not going to make it an issue in her life’... When they made the decision they just didn’t know a) how to handle having a child with a disability but b) they didn’t want me to be defined by what I couldn’t do.” The determination not to define people by their disability was to stick. Throughout school, Casey was unaware that she was visually impaired although she felt instinctively that she was different and was bullied because she had to sit at the front of the class. She found out the truth on her 17th birthday, when, en route to her first driving lesson — a birthday present from her parents — she met an eye specialist. “He saw it was my birthday, he asked what I was doing, I took out my driving lesson and I obviously found out that I wasn’t going to be driving”, Casey laughs ruefully. Casey’s response to that devastating news was characteristic. She was angry at her parents for not telling her about the disability but quickly began to see the positives. The specialist had told her that she could register with the Department of Education for special assistance during the Leaving Cert. “Actually I really thought he was a bit of a dope and I didn’t believe him so I thought, just let me get my exams done and then I’ll prove that I can drive. And that’s pretty much how I handled it and that’s how I handle everything in life.”
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