Litigation Will Not Heal Rugby – But Rugby Can Still Heal Its Own

By Simon Shaw

As someone who spent more than two decades in professional rugby, I have watched the
concussion litigation unfold with mixed emotions. Above all else, my thoughts are with
every former player and family living with the consequences of neurological illness.
Whatever side of the legal argument you sit on, there is no escaping the human reality
that many are facing incredibly difficult lives.

Those players have every right to seek answers, accountability and, where appropriate,
compensation. Access to justice is a fundamental principle. But I find myself wondering
whether, in pursuing justice through the courts, rugby is losing sight of something just
as important: the chance to care collectively for those who need help today.
The courts can determine liability. They cannot restore health.

No judgment, however significant, will reverse dementia, repair damaged brain tissue,
restore lost memories, or give families back the years they have spent caring for loved
ones. From a purely medical standpoint, litigation offers remarkably little. Even a
successful settlement cannot cure a progressive neurological disease.

What legal action has undoubtedly done is force uncomfortable conversations. It has
accelerated research, challenged complacency, and pushed governing bodies to
improve concussion protocols, return to play procedures, independent medical
oversight and player welfare. Future generations of players will almost certainly be
better protected because difficult questions were asked. That is a real legacy, and it
matters.

But I believe there is another side to this that deserves equal weight.

The longer these proceedings drag on, the greater the cost. Not just in legal fees, but in
division. Years of adversarial litigation create winners and losers, harden positions, and
eat up enormous financial and emotional resources. By the time the final appeals are
exhausted, many of the people this was meant to help may have waited years longer for
meaningful support.

The financial implications could be profound too. If the litigation ends in very substantial
damages, on top of years of legal costs on both sides, the cumulative impact on rugby
could be immense. Every pound spent fighting one another is a pound that isn’t going to
grassroots rugby, community clubs, youth development, women’s rugby, medical
research or direct player support.

None of that means former players should simply accept their circumstances. Far from
it. It simply raises the question of whether there’s a more constructive way through.
Horse racing offers an interesting example in the Injured Jockeys Fund. For decades it
has built world class centres providing rehabilitation, physiotherapy, psychological
support, career transition, welfare advice and practical help for injured jockeys and their
families. It is bigger than compensation. It is a lifelong commitment to the people who
made the sport possible.

Imagine if rugby had chosen a similar path.

Imagine if the resources already committed to litigation, by governing bodies, insurers
and claimant groups alike, had instead built the world’s leading rugby player welfare
foundation. A permanent institution for former players and their families, offering
neurological assessment, rehabilitation, mental health services, physiotherapy,
occupational therapy, financial advice, addiction support, family counselling, research
partnerships and long term care, regardless of whether someone won one cap or a
hundred.

Not a settlement fund. A living legacy. A centre built not around blame, but around
responsibility.

That model would never remove the need for accountability where mistakes have been
made. Nor should it. But accountability and compassion don’t have to sit in opposition to
one another. They can, and should, coexist.

Rugby has always prided itself on values that extend beyond the final whistle: respect,
integrity, solidarity, and looking after your teammates. Those values shouldn’t end the
moment a player’s career does.

The game owes a real debt to every generation that helped build it into what it is today.
That debt can’t be repaid through court judgments alone. It has to be repaid through
care that actually lasts.

Perhaps history will judge this litigation as a necessary catalyst for change. If it drives
better safety standards, better medical protocols and greater awareness of brain health,
future players will benefit.

But my hope is that rugby doesn’t stop there.

The greatest legacy of this painful chapter won’t be the size of any legal settlement. It
will be a lasting commitment that tells every player, past, present and future, that the
game will stand beside them for life.

Because while litigation may decide who was responsible yesterday, only unity will
decide how well we look after one another tomorrow