Ireland has an estimated 140,000 former members of the Defence Forces. That is not a small community. It is a national community, spread across every county, workplace, family and generation.
Yet Ireland still has no legal definition of a veteran and no fully coordinated national veterans policy.
That matters.
A recent study by Nexus Research Cooperative for ONE has again placed uncomfortable facts on the table. Reporting on the study identified former Defence Forces members living with untreated PTSD, poverty, isolation and homelessness. It also highlighted the absence of a clear legal definition of a veteran in Irish law and the lack of a joined-up national structure for veteran support.
This is not about ceremony. Ireland is good at ceremony. We know how to lay wreaths, hold parades, stand for a minute's silence and speak warmly of service. Those things matter, but they are not a policy. A veteran who is struggling with housing, health, trauma, employment, addiction, family breakdown or social isolation does not need another vague expression of gratitude. They need a system that knows who they are, where they should go, and who is responsible for helping them.
The Department of Defence has acknowledged the Nexus work in Dáil material and confirmed that the study examines the position of Defence Forces veterans in Ireland and the supports available to them. That is welcome, but the harder question is whether the State is prepared to move from recognition to responsibility.
Australia offers a useful comparison, not because Ireland should copy it, but because it shows what happens when veterans' welfare is treated as a defined area of public policy. From 1 July 2026, Australia moved new compensation and rehabilitation claims into a simplified single framework under an improved Military Rehabilitation and Compensation Act. Existing payments under older systems are protected, while new claims are handled through one clearer route.
Ireland does not need to import the Australian model wholesale. The countries are different. The scale of their armed forces is different. Their operational histories, budgets and political systems are different. But the principle is worth examining: veterans' support should not depend on chance, goodwill, personal contacts or whether a former soldier, sailor or aircrew member knows which door to knock on.
At present, much of the practical burden falls on organisations such as ONE, PDFORRA, veterans' groups, local volunteers and informal networks of former comrades. ONE's housing work is particularly important. The Defence Forces' own public information notes that ONE provides housing for homeless veterans in Athlone, Cobh, Dublin and Letterkenny, with further homes planned, and that around 1,100 homeless veterans have used its housing services to date.
That work deserves respect, but voluntary organisations should not have to compensate for the absence of a national framework.
A practical Irish veterans policy does not have to begin with a huge new bureaucracy. It could begin with five basic steps.
First, Ireland needs a legal definition of a veteran. That definition should be clear enough to include former members of the Permanent Defence Force and Reserve Defence Force, while also recognising different lengths and types of service.
Second, there should be one accessible point of contact. A former Defence Forces member in difficulty should not have to navigate a maze of Departments, charities, local authorities and health services alone.
Third, Ireland needs reliable research. If the State does not properly count veterans, track outcomes or study transition from military to civilian life, then policy will remain guesswork.
Fourth, there must be coordinated pathways for health, housing, welfare and employment. Veterans do not live in a separate world. Their needs cross Defence, Health, Housing, Social Protection and Justice.
Fifth, there must be clear ministerial accountability. If everyone is partly responsible, no one is fully responsible.
The issue is not whether every veteran is vulnerable. Most former Defence Forces members go on to live strong, independent and productive civilian lives. Many are already serving their communities in transport, security, public service, business, education, emergency services, journalism, sport and voluntary work. That is part of the story too.
But a serious State does not build policy only around those who are coping. It also asks what happens to those who fall through the gaps.
Ireland asks a great deal of its Defence Forces. It asks them to serve overseas, support civil authorities, respond to emergencies, protect the State, represent the flag and accept conditions of service that are unlike ordinary employment. When that service ends, the uniform is handed back, but the service history does not disappear.
Australia's reform should prompt Ireland to ask a simple question: what minimum national framework should exist for those who served?
Not a monument. Not a speech. A working system.
Because service should not become invisible once the uniform is gone.