I have just been informed of the sudden death of my dear friend, Maurice Corcoran. He died aged 68; far too young.
Spinal cord injury is a bastard. It wears the body down over time and steals the most beautiful people from us. Yet, disability was also the context in which Maurice lived an extraordinarily rich, significant, and meaningful life.
I was blessed to meet Maurice at the Disability Royal Commission, where we worked closely together for four years. Serving as a Senior Policy Advisor with lived experience, he brought decades of fierce advocacy to the role. He helped the Commissioners truly understand the systemic maltreatment of disabled people and was instrumental in shaping recommendations that could drive genuine change. Among his many contributions to the Commission was his work with the Disability Staff Network, a group he chaired for a time. As always, his priority was the well-being and support of his disabled peers.
Maurice acquired his injury in 1976 as a young man of just 18. Rather than being defined by the trauma, he channelled his experience into action early on. He initiated a landmark complaint with the Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission regarding the appalling state of South Australia’s public transport – a case that set a national precedent and fundamentally reshaped transport accessibility standards across Australia.
From there, his leadership only grew. He joined the national taskforce to draft the Accessible Public Transport Standards, served as the inaugural Chair of the Australian Federation of Disability Organisations (AFDO), and was appointed as South Australia’s first Principal Community Visitor – a role where he established crucial independent oversight to protect the rights and safety of people living in disability accommodation and mental health facilities.
More recently, Maurice joined me on a consumer advisory panel supporting one of my PhD students examining the intersecting challenges of spinal cord injury and ageing. His contributions to that panel were vital to our findings. It was simply who he was: continually leveraging his own lived experience of disability and ageing to support his peers, improve quality of life, and transform the systems around us.
Yet, far more important than any of these professional accomplishments was the man himself. Maurice was simply the nicest, most genuine person you could ever hope to meet. He could be strong and fiery when a cause demanded it, but hostility was never his default mode. He approached everyone with innate warmth, kindness, and generosity. I feel wonderfully lucky to have called him my friend.
Maurice was so much more than his public persona. He married his beautiful wife, Sheila, and together they built a rich, full family life – raising children, engaging in sport, and remaining an avid lawn bowler right until the end. He casually dismantled every reductive assumption about what life with quadriplegia looks like. The prevailing, tragic assumption that a life with severe disability or spinal cord injury is hardly worth living was roundly, joyfully refuted by the vibrant family and community Maurice cultivated.
I find it hard to process that he is gone. My deepest love goes out to Sheila, his children, and his wide circle of friends. Our collective loss is immense, but Maurice’s extraordinary legacy will continue to carry on through the countless lives he touched and transformed.
No Comments