As William Butler Yeats turns 150, an exhibition at the Hugh Lane is a little like having the poet as a tour guide
You would hardly know it was three days to Bloomsday. The middle of June in Dublin is usually infused with Joycean events and readings and articles, but this year, the face in the arts pages, banners and posters is not James Joyce but W.B. Yeats. Fair enough, though. Tuesday might be the annual celebration of Joyce’s masterwork, but today would have been Yeats’ 150th birthday.
I admit I’m not hugely knowledgeable on either. I’ve read and reread Portrait of the Artist… and Dubliners, but dipped no more than a toe in the “snotgreen… scrotumtightening sea” of Ulysses. I’m fine with the fact that I’ll die without attempting Finnegan’s Wake. The Yeats poems I know best are still the ones we studied at school – Sailing to Byzantium, September 1913 and When You are Old – and even though I loved mythology as a kid, I sometimes find his mythological and spiritualist allusions a little too cerebral for my tastes. For me, Yeats dealt more with the grandiose – with idealism and politics and nationalism – whereas Joyce was more rooted in mundane and intimate humanity, and it might be for that reason that I feel more of an affinity with Joyce’s writings.
That said, an accidental encounter with Yeats this week was a disarmingly intimate and personal one. Continue reading →
Even before the marriage equality referendum, the Yes campaign had already raised the status of LGBT people in Irish society for good
After casting my vote for marriage equality last week, I took off at dawn on Saturday to spend a few days with my godson and his parents. Other than a few snatched moments of internet access, I had little connection to what was happening at home. But I talked with my friends about what was happening, about what I hoped and what I feared might happen. I told my godson’s father about how I was worried the vote would be a lot closer than the polls showed, that a silent No vote could hold sway. He said something that gave me some hope. He said that even if it came to the worst, even if it was a No, it wouldn’t be a No for long. Eventually, he predicted, equality would come, because something amazing had already happened and Irish society had already changed.
I knew he was right. I’d seen that change. We’ve all see it. Over the last few months, Ireland’s LGBT community has come out en masse – with all the uncertain and nerve-wracking courage and bravery that must take – come out to ask for acceptance. Not tolerance – a distinction made brilliantly by American activist Ash Beckham – but acceptance, to be inclusively treated as equal citizens in Irish society. There was no ignoring or denying the scale of that movement: Yes or No on the day, the closet door was open for good.
The freedoms of real people and real families are at stake in Ireland’s marriage referendum. We must put the facts before the fears when we vote.
My nephew Alejandro is nine. He doesn’t like to be left out of the loop. He could be watching TV, reading or playing video games but if he catches so much as a whisper in an adult conversation, he’ll drop everything and demand “What?” To which he’s usually told: “It’s adult stuff.” A couple of weeks ago, however, he started to suspect that some adult stuff was about kids – when he saw a poster on a lamppost that read Children deserve a mother and father. This time, when he asked, his mother decided to let him in.
“It’s about whether gay people should be allowed to get married,” she told him.
“Oh my god!” he gasped, horrified.
Priming herself for a ‘talk’, my sister tentatively asked what the matter was.
“That’s ridiculous!” he answered. “Why would that even be a question?”
Nonplussed, she said: “Do you think they should be able to get married?”
“Of course!” he replied. “If they love each other, why can’t they?”
For Alejandro, and probably most people, love is instinctively an essential element for marriage. For many others, it is instinctive to think of marriage as ‘husband+wife’. For Mothers and Fathers Matter, the organisation who put up that poster, family instinctively means ‘husband+wife+children’. Our own instincts may be all well and good, but when we make decisions that affect others, we need to rely on our reason as well as our instincts. We need to consider the facts and the realities.
Alejandro and his sister have a mother and father who have been married for over ten years. By the No campaign’s formula, this should be the ideal family situation. But their reality is far from ideal and always has been. The ins and outs aren’t important here – the point is that there is no ideal family situation. Every family is different, and those rigid and simplistic generalisations about what a family should be and what every child deserves don’t reflect the myriad realities of real people’s lives.
Last month, my friend Annemarie Ní Churreáin wrote an excellent article in which she delved into Ireland’s rich cultural history of family and parenthood. What she portrayed was a reality much more profound and dynamic than such shallow stereotypes. In one passage, she compares the instinctive assumption of the No campaign’s slogan with the more nuanced reality:
“Children benefit from the balance that mothers and fathers bring to parenting” say the anti-marriage equality group Mothers and Fathers Matter. This claim is not in dispute. Children also benefit from love, security, social acceptance and information. There is an endless list of things that benefit children. No parent is super-human and no-one can provide every single possible benefit, but the beauty and reality of families is that each parent can, regardless of gender or sexuality, bring to the task of child-rearing their own unique recipe of benefits. This recipe makes a family uniquely special.
In my own extended family, there are many unique and different family set-ups. We have single-parent families, some with only a mother, some with only a father. We have separated families, widowed families, remarried families and childless families. None of them are any less a family for not conforming to the generic formula that The Iona Institute and Mothers & Fathers Matter call “irreplaceable”. All these families have the very same legal and constitutional protections, entitlements and rights. For all their variety and diversity, what they have in common is love and commitment. Whatever shape their particular framework takes, that much is essential.
That same love and commitment were no less evident when Amnesty International’s Colm O’Gorman spoke of his relationship with his partner of 16 years and their two children. When his daughter Safia wrote of her feelings about her parents, it was hard to deny that this was a familial relationship much like any other, where “my parents cook, clean, do laundry, listen to me moan about school, help me with homework and encourage me throughout my exams, just like any other parent”. But her parents are not heterosexual and so they are not entitled to formalise and safeguard that familial relationship with civil marriage. They are not entitled to the rights, opportunities and protections that families of all other shapes and makeups can avail of. The constitution does not consider them a family. Not because the children don’t have a mother. Not because they are not biologically related to their parents. Solely because the two parents are gay. Is that right or just? Is it in the children’s best interests?
Regardless of the outcome of Friday’s referendum, many children will continue to be raised by LGBT parents in Ireland. If groups like Iona and Mothers and Fathers Matter truly believe the married family unit to be in the best interests of children, wouldn’t it be better for those children if their parents could be married? Not just civil-partnered – which another deeply callous poster declares should be good enough – but married, with the protections and opportunities that civil partnership neglects to provide to LGBT couples and families.
Because, for all its claims, the No campaign knows as well as the Yes campaign that that’s not really what this referendum is about. The wording of the proposed amendment is clear and it is specific – ‘Marriage may be contracted in accordance with law by two persons without distinction as to their sex.’ That is it and that is all. It is solely about civil, non-religious marriage and sexuality.
However, ever since the so-called Pantigate incident, Iona and Mothers and Fathers Matter have studiously avoided talking about sexuality – presumably for fear of being labelled as homophobic. Instead, they have doggedly dragged the debate off-track with tangential speculations about same-sex marriage being bad for children – even after their claims have been conclusively refuted by the experts. Moreover, despite this unswerving focus on children, the No campaign is just as opposed to same-sex marriage even if there are no children involved. Why? Because that is not really the issue.
When we go to the polls on Friday, we all need to stay on-track. We need to focus only on what we are being asked – should a couple’s sexuality should bar them from the same legal and constitutional recognition and protection as other couples? There may indeed be a link between marriage and parenthood but they are not mutually dependent, and it is misleading to treat them as such. Children are complementary to a marriage; they are not essential for marriage. Even if the debunked claims about adoption, surrogacy or parenting abilities were valid, that still would not justify denying all same-sex couples the right to a civil marriage, just because of speculations about what a fraction of those couples may or may not choose to do in the future. That is the implication of a No vote, and that is neither fair nor just.
That is not to suggest that anybody thinking of voting No is inherently a bad person. I don’t doubt that there are many people with honest concerns, people who, with the best intentions, are wary of voting Yes, because of traditional beliefs or because of fears propagated by the No campaign. We often have an instinctive fear of change, of breaking with the tried-and-trusted past, afraid that we might regret our actions. That wariness and instinct is not necessarily a bad thing – so long as we we are wise enough to not act on instinct alone. We need to weigh our instincts against the facts and the realities to find out if they are well-founded or not.
My worry is that – in the privacy of the polling booth – wary instinct might trump the reality, that nebulous notions of the ideal family might trump the actual situations of real families, and that many people who do honestly believe in equality may nevertheless vote against it. If the referendum were to be defeated on false pretenses, because of exaggeration, equivocation and misinformation, it would truly be a tragedy. My hope, however, is that – whatever our instincts – we will consider the real people, with all their diverse but equally valid realities, and we will vote out of reason and compassion and not just instinctive fear or unquestioned dogma.
Instincts are not absolute. They change and evolve with our environment, our society and our times. My nephew’s instinct is that committed couples who love each other should be allowed to marry, whatever their sexuality. My instincts at his age would have been very different, as the Ireland shaping those instincts was very different. Homosexuality was a still crime at that time, and the very notion of same-sex marriage would have been instinctively alien to me. Not that I was even aware there was such a thing as homosexuality at his age, and I was much older than he is now before I had anything like his thoughtful and empathetic understanding of it. Ireland has matured and opened up enormously since then, and it is all the better for it. Perhaps it is that openness that has influenced the instincts of kids like Alejandro and Safia O’Gorman to be more fluid and inclusive – instincts that are more closely aligned to the realities we find in our society.
It’s not just society and instincts that evolve like this. Marriage changes and evolves too. It always has and it always will – as Fintan O’Toole illustrates eloquently in today’s Irish Times. It is not – and never has been – the static, rigid institution the Iona Institute and others would have us believe. It is a social institution and as such, it has, can, will and must adapt with society. The Archbishop of Armagh, Eamon Martin, recently said that changing marriage is “not a trivial matter”. He is right in that: it is far from a trivial matter for people who are denied the protections and of civil marriage simply because they are not heterosexual. For those of us who are, it’s not trivial either. Why should our country deny our friends and certain members of our families the same rights it grants us, just because of the gender of who they love and commit to? Shaping our constitution to reflect our changing society so that it affords the same respect, recognition and security to all citizens is not trivial at all: it’s our duty.
This Friday, I hope we will do that duty. Please go and vote. Please vote with your head as well as your heart. Please vote Yes to a constitution that respects and protects the love and commitment of all couples and families equally. Everyone deserves that and LGBT couples and families deserve no less.
Check out this beautiful short film by Karla Healion in which different couples and parents reflect on what family and marriage means to them
This line from poet-farmer Peter Fallon, quoted at the close of the third session of Climate Conversations, captured the root of the climate crisis perfectly. It is a line that beautifully encompasses the imbalance of human acquisitiveness and the finite resources we draw on. The words “as if” illustrate the mistake in our thinking, in our assumption that our actions are without consequences. Whether that mistake is deliberate or accidental, the result of the plunder is the same, and the need to redress it just as urgent. It is what Peter Fallon’s poem goes on to call “the mandatory sentence/that became our task and duty.”
This session – The Sustainable Use of Our Land – highlighted the scale of the challenge for Ireland and the quandaries and dilemmas we will face in restructuring our own economy, in which agricultural food production plays such a huge role. Continue reading →
At the end of the inaugural meeting of Climate Conversations, the 300-strong audience in Dublin’s Liberty Hall were asked to write one word that summed up how they felt about the subject of climate change. Though there were many varying responses, frustration was the dominant sense.
In an excellent, stark and comprehensive article in today’s Guardian, Larry Elliot not only captures the root of that frustration, but also what is needed to overcome it. “Can we imagine a future that is cleaner, greener and sustainable,” he writes, “without abandoning the idea of growth and, thus, forcing living standards into decline?… It will be hellishly difficult, but it is just about feasible if we make the right choices – and start making them now.”
Climate Conversations – a series of discussions between trade unions, businesses, politicians, civil society and the public – sets out to discuss the right choices for Ireland. Continue reading →
As union staff at 109 Dunnes Stores branches go on strike today, the chain’s one-day online sale seems more than a little desperate. It comes across as a brazen attempt to keep people shopping without having to cross a picket line, without having to face the people who are affected by Dunnes’ contemptible working hours and practices. But it is also suggests the employer is rattled. They have good reason to be, given Dunnes workers’ history of civil rights activism.
Have a read of this account of a Dunnes worker, explaining why they have no choice but to strike and demonstrating that same spirit of solidarity. And if you come across the picketers today, show them some solidarity of your own and sign the petition.
I’m writing this to ask everyone working in Dunnes to support our strike this Thursday.
“I’ve never been one for getting really involved in the union, and never thought I’d be writing something like this or going on strike.
I’ve worked in Dunnes for 9 years, like most staff I’m on a 15 hour flexi contract. I’m the main earner in our house. My partner works for Dunnes aswell, but most weeks he only gets the 15 hours. We’ve a 2 year old daughter and she never wants for anything. I make sure of that. It means there’s weeks where me and Keith genuinely go hungry, or my Mam does a shop for us. It’s embarrassing. I’m a grown woman and I have a job. That job should give me enough money that I can afford to feed my family and pay my bills. On this contract I’m picking one…
Ours is clearly a pivotal generation. We have global communication and yet confrontation is more common than dialogue. – The Dalai Lama
You may have noticed that the world didn’t end last Friday, despite the confluence of a solar eclipse and the spring equinox. Doomsday predictions have a tendency to crop up around curious dates or rare celestial events, regardless of how many previous ones passed without incident. Still, when I was a child with a good Irish Catholic upbringing, those sort of predictions used to send me into paroxysms of panic. I truly expected the dread moment to arrive with four apocalyptic horsemen running rampant and Jesus dropping down on his cloud for the ultimate version of every spectacled schoolchild’s nightmare: picking teams – sheep from goats, wheat from chaff, saved from damned. But it all took quite an effort of the imagination, and that made them easier to forget day to day. Continue reading →
The departure of Books Upstairs from Dublin’s College Green is not at all as bad as I feared
Today is World Book Day and as I’ve mentioned before, I have something of an addiction for the things – although I’m far more successful at accumulating them than reading them. There are certain bookshops around Dublin I can’t pass without stepping into and too often, I can’t leave empty-handed. My guess is that I end up buying at least five books for every one I manage to read, but as Sydney Smith once put it, there’s “no furniture so charming as books.”
The New York Times recently quoted George Orwell as saying that a bookshop “is one of the few places where you can hang around for a long time without spending any money”, and it’s very true (I don’t always buy something). When I step into a good bookshop, I often get a giddy thrill, at once excited and daunted by the seemingly endless possibilities – excited by what I could read and daunted by what I’ll never manage to. Excited or daunted, whether I buy or don’t, a good bookshop is simply a wonderful place to be and to pass time. However, that Orwell quote appeared in an article entitled ‘Assessing the health of independent bookstores’ as an illustration of the enduring challenges of the independent bookshop to stay afloat. The article noted that over the past ten years more than one in three independent bookshops in the UK and Ireland have had to shut up shop, unable to compete with the large chains and online retailers.
The first thing that struck me about Granby Park was the smell. The warm earthy aroma of woodchip and mulch is something more connected with garden centres and countryside than with the heart of a capital city. The day before Granby Park opened I went down to the site to get a take a look at how it was coming together. Behind the decorated railings, volunteers in hi-vis vests were swarming around the site making the final preparations. And the air all around the park, all up Dominick Street, was filled with that sweet, slightly musty smell. Even before Granby Park opened, it was already changing the way I sensed the city.
A while back, I wrote about a book called “Slow Dublin” by Anto Howard, a handy little guide for taking a deeper, richer approach to life in Dublin by slowing down and taking in more of the city. “Live more, fret less”, the book’s cover exhorts, and in the introduction, Howard explains his approach:
“Adopting a slow approach to life is about arousing the senses, connecting with community… and in these hard-hit times it’s about pulling together, sharing a burden, sharing a hope and learning to live with less.”