Go on, do the decent thing
Just because I am of voting age I have been officially handed the means of curtailing or granting new freedoms to the lives of some of my fellow citizens. I am not responsible for these people in any way. They are adults, just like me, living out their adult lives the best way they can with the hand they have been dealt.
I have been given power that I have not earned and I don’t deserve. It’s appalling; just because I am over eighteen I am inexplicably entitled to have a say in how some of my fellow citizens should conduct their family arrangements. What gives me the right to do that? Nothing that I can think of. Passing my driving test gave me full authority to navigate any class of road in Ireland. Of course, I’ll be pulled up by the traffic police for showing poor judgement by, for example, speeding, not wearing a seat belt or speaking on my mobile phone. I don’t have to pass any test to vote in the marriage equality referendum. My judgement can be skewed, biased, prejudiced or twisted but there is no moral or ethical x-ray machine at the entrance to every polling station. There is no shortage of moral police though, muddying the waters by turning a simple and just request into something that will destroy the family unit. I am being forced to vote on something that is none of my business. I am mortified that I have been given this audacious power.
The singsong chorus will spontaneously reply, “That’s democracy!” But sometimes even democracy can be undemocratic, or unfair at any rate. My fear is that many people who will vote in this referendum have not informed themselves adequately on this important issue and will take the lazy option of allowing themselves to be swayed by those who ‘know best.’ I am astounded at the amount of air time many of these random ‘commentators’ who ‘know best’ are being given. They are being facilitated by our national broadcaster to make or break a most personal aspect of other peoples’ lives.
Of course, I will do the decent thing and vote Yes to marriage equality, but I am not clapping myself on the back for doing the decent thing; that would be repugnant, wouldn’t it? Lesbian and gay couples are being put in an impossible situation - forced to throw themselves on the mercy of strangers, strangers like me – hoping that enough of us will tick the box in their favour and grant them the very basic right of being allowed to get married.
I did not have to depend on the good will of my fellow citizens of voting age in 1991 when I married the man I wanted to spend my life with. I am frankly embarrassed that my own personal prejudices and beliefs could potentially interfere with the personal civil rights of other adults. Advocates of same sex marriage have to pit themselves against people who ‘know best’ in television head to heads to explain why they should be afforded a basic human right. A little over twenty days is more than enough time for this debate to shape up to a traditional bullfight. The media is twiddling with the nobs; playing to the gallery with stock characters from central casting. My fear is that this will become a very dirty war before May 22nd; there is far too much time left for rotten red herrings to pollute the waters of democracy. But maybe the ferment that hangs in the air will be too strong for ordinary, decent people to ignore.
In bullfighting parlance, the querencia is the spot in the ring to which the threatened bull repeatedly returns to in the absence of any other bright ideas. This return to the querencia becomes a boring and predictable tactic, finally making it easy for the matador to kill the bull. While I am not for one moment suggesting the spilling of blood on Primetime or Tonight with Vincent Brown, I am wondering how long the No campaign can keep trotting out the same non-reasons for voting No. Their querencia is setting itself up for an intellectual trouncing.
The Chicken Littles of the No campaign are running out of reasons why the sky will fall in if the Yes vote prevails. The cliques of Henny Pennies, Ducky Luckies, Goosey Loosies, and Turkey Lurkies who unquestioningly follow the Chicken Littles will join them, running around in circles, building up enough steam to cook themselves, feathers and all.
Children need loving adults to mind them and care for them; take an interest in them, and encourage them; fight their corner and cheer them on; feed, clothe and educate them; teach them manners, compassion and social intelligence through example; that’s all they need– loving adults. The age, gender, sexual orientation, hair colour, or physical ability of these loving adults is immaterial.
Article 41 is being touted as an article of faith, but whose faith in what is now a multi-faith and non- faith country? The No campaign defines heterosexual marriage as the bedrock of civilisation, the cohesive material that holds everything together and prevents society from crumbling into a hedonistic mash up. How come then, so many of these bedrock marriages turned a blind eye to child abuse? How come women’s refuges are still full of wives and children of heterosexual men who are forced to flee from their homes to escape relentless physical beatings or psychological control and manipulation? How come some parents in heterosexual marriages think it’s all right to have ‘a bit on the side’? How come Irish pubs are full of Irish men who would rather spend money and time on pints than on their children? I cannot answer any of these questions, but I think I can justifiably ask them if heterosexual marriages are being lionised as the only workable arrangement.
I am satisfied that lots of marriage and parental arrangements are workable and I do not feel that my arrangement is threatened in any way by this. Just because something has always been doesn’t make it right. Just because a bunch of middle-aged men perpetuated an age-old custom in our constitution (with the imprimatur of another bunch of middle-aged, celibate men) in isolationist, misogynistic, church ridden 1930’s Ireland does not make it right. Remember, this is also the constitution that prevented married women from working. Many age-old customs have been consigned to the bin of history; the kind of customs, accepted as perfectly reasonable in their day, that did not deem me worth educating, having a career, having the vote or allowed to open a bank account without the permission of my husband. Imagine though, there are people alive in Ireland today who are old enough to remember some of these age old customs. I hope they consider the feelings of their grandchildren and great grandchildren when they vote on May 22nd.
Have we not left Ireland of the half door and the geansaí to be laughed at on Reeling in the Years? Aren’t we all grown up now, laden down with 2:1 degrees, burnt property deals, four-wheel drives (albeit aging), hot tubs extraneous to requirements, smarty-pants telephony and kitchens with ‘islands’ no less. Aren’t we sophisticated, secure and confident enough; big enough, even, to do the decent thing on May 22nd? Although on this occasion an unwelcome responsibility, the decent thing for me to do is to apologise to my lesbian and gay fellow citizens because I have to use my ‘democratic’ vote to extend to them the full benefits of marriage; and since I can’t apologise to everyone personally, I will do it magnificently with one stroke of the pen.
Copyright Berni Dwan May 10th 2015
Just because I am of voting age I have been officially handed the means of curtailing or granting new freedoms to the lives of some of my fellow citizens. I am not responsible for these people in any way. They are adults, just like me, living out their adult lives the best way they can with the hand they have been dealt.
I have been given power that I have not earned and I don’t deserve. It’s appalling; just because I am over eighteen I am inexplicably entitled to have a say in how some of my fellow citizens should conduct their family arrangements. What gives me the right to do that? Nothing that I can think of. Passing my driving test gave me full authority to navigate any class of road in Ireland. Of course, I’ll be pulled up by the traffic police for showing poor judgement by, for example, speeding, not wearing a seat belt or speaking on my mobile phone. I don’t have to pass any test to vote in the marriage equality referendum. My judgement can be skewed, biased, prejudiced or twisted but there is no moral or ethical x-ray machine at the entrance to every polling station. There is no shortage of moral police though, muddying the waters by turning a simple and just request into something that will destroy the family unit. I am being forced to vote on something that is none of my business. I am mortified that I have been given this audacious power.
The singsong chorus will spontaneously reply, “That’s democracy!” But sometimes even democracy can be undemocratic, or unfair at any rate. My fear is that many people who will vote in this referendum have not informed themselves adequately on this important issue and will take the lazy option of allowing themselves to be swayed by those who ‘know best.’ I am astounded at the amount of air time many of these random ‘commentators’ who ‘know best’ are being given. They are being facilitated by our national broadcaster to make or break a most personal aspect of other peoples’ lives.
Of course, I will do the decent thing and vote Yes to marriage equality, but I am not clapping myself on the back for doing the decent thing; that would be repugnant, wouldn’t it? Lesbian and gay couples are being put in an impossible situation - forced to throw themselves on the mercy of strangers, strangers like me – hoping that enough of us will tick the box in their favour and grant them the very basic right of being allowed to get married.
I did not have to depend on the good will of my fellow citizens of voting age in 1991 when I married the man I wanted to spend my life with. I am frankly embarrassed that my own personal prejudices and beliefs could potentially interfere with the personal civil rights of other adults. Advocates of same sex marriage have to pit themselves against people who ‘know best’ in television head to heads to explain why they should be afforded a basic human right. A little over twenty days is more than enough time for this debate to shape up to a traditional bullfight. The media is twiddling with the nobs; playing to the gallery with stock characters from central casting. My fear is that this will become a very dirty war before May 22nd; there is far too much time left for rotten red herrings to pollute the waters of democracy. But maybe the ferment that hangs in the air will be too strong for ordinary, decent people to ignore.
In bullfighting parlance, the querencia is the spot in the ring to which the threatened bull repeatedly returns to in the absence of any other bright ideas. This return to the querencia becomes a boring and predictable tactic, finally making it easy for the matador to kill the bull. While I am not for one moment suggesting the spilling of blood on Primetime or Tonight with Vincent Brown, I am wondering how long the No campaign can keep trotting out the same non-reasons for voting No. Their querencia is setting itself up for an intellectual trouncing.
The Chicken Littles of the No campaign are running out of reasons why the sky will fall in if the Yes vote prevails. The cliques of Henny Pennies, Ducky Luckies, Goosey Loosies, and Turkey Lurkies who unquestioningly follow the Chicken Littles will join them, running around in circles, building up enough steam to cook themselves, feathers and all.
Children need loving adults to mind them and care for them; take an interest in them, and encourage them; fight their corner and cheer them on; feed, clothe and educate them; teach them manners, compassion and social intelligence through example; that’s all they need– loving adults. The age, gender, sexual orientation, hair colour, or physical ability of these loving adults is immaterial.
Article 41 is being touted as an article of faith, but whose faith in what is now a multi-faith and non- faith country? The No campaign defines heterosexual marriage as the bedrock of civilisation, the cohesive material that holds everything together and prevents society from crumbling into a hedonistic mash up. How come then, so many of these bedrock marriages turned a blind eye to child abuse? How come women’s refuges are still full of wives and children of heterosexual men who are forced to flee from their homes to escape relentless physical beatings or psychological control and manipulation? How come some parents in heterosexual marriages think it’s all right to have ‘a bit on the side’? How come Irish pubs are full of Irish men who would rather spend money and time on pints than on their children? I cannot answer any of these questions, but I think I can justifiably ask them if heterosexual marriages are being lionised as the only workable arrangement.
I am satisfied that lots of marriage and parental arrangements are workable and I do not feel that my arrangement is threatened in any way by this. Just because something has always been doesn’t make it right. Just because a bunch of middle-aged men perpetuated an age-old custom in our constitution (with the imprimatur of another bunch of middle-aged, celibate men) in isolationist, misogynistic, church ridden 1930’s Ireland does not make it right. Remember, this is also the constitution that prevented married women from working. Many age-old customs have been consigned to the bin of history; the kind of customs, accepted as perfectly reasonable in their day, that did not deem me worth educating, having a career, having the vote or allowed to open a bank account without the permission of my husband. Imagine though, there are people alive in Ireland today who are old enough to remember some of these age old customs. I hope they consider the feelings of their grandchildren and great grandchildren when they vote on May 22nd.
Have we not left Ireland of the half door and the geansaí to be laughed at on Reeling in the Years? Aren’t we all grown up now, laden down with 2:1 degrees, burnt property deals, four-wheel drives (albeit aging), hot tubs extraneous to requirements, smarty-pants telephony and kitchens with ‘islands’ no less. Aren’t we sophisticated, secure and confident enough; big enough, even, to do the decent thing on May 22nd? Although on this occasion an unwelcome responsibility, the decent thing for me to do is to apologise to my lesbian and gay fellow citizens because I have to use my ‘democratic’ vote to extend to them the full benefits of marriage; and since I can’t apologise to everyone personally, I will do it magnificently with one stroke of the pen.
Copyright Berni Dwan May 10th 2015
