It’s a supreme test of objectivity to be here in Ireland writing about the abortion referendum. Because the issue is so personal, so sensitive, I’d rather provide analysis than commentary – and having met the people canvassing for legalisation, I have to report that they are overwhelmingly decent.
I went with them to a working-class estate in south Dublin, where they seemed to get a friendly reception on the doorstep. Very friendly. Far friendlier than I’ve ever seen during an election in southern England. People actually came out of their doors to talk to the canvassers; you couldn’t get some of them to shut up.
At the end of the day, I interviewed one of the pro-choice activists on a patch of grass in the middle of the estate. Word got around and a crowd gathered. We were suddenly surrounded by children. They didn’t interfere, they just watched from the sidelines with their parents, who kept them in check with an occasional “Calm down, Conor” or “Behave yourself, Mary.”
And I felt so sad. This is what’s really at stake. Old Ireland still exists, clinging on by its fingertips. It’s not Catholic the way it once was: Mass attendance is way down. But these are friendly, lovely people living lives that in many cases are almost unchanged. The pro-choice canvassers said that the most influential anti-abortion locals, the ones they couldn’t persuade, were the “settled people”. The phrase meant old folks who had lived in the same area for a long-time – the Irish equivalent of those ancient admirals and retired plumbers who are supposed to have caused Brexit by their stubborn refusal to die.
Towards Britain, feelings are mixed. The pro-choicers resent English chauvinism, of course, but see us as “light years ahead”. There’s a palpable exhaustion, embarrassment even, with Old Ireland among young liberals. And yet, on that patch of grass, it looked rather idyllic. Like England was before it became obsessed with money and spiritually barren.
This is the bottom line: if you legalise abortion, the population will change. We abort around 180,000 babies every year in England. What do you think the effect is? Fewer poor people; shrunken communities. And the vanishing of the disabled, too. Ireland is full of disabled people, particularly those with Down’s, whose ubiquity here is a tragic reminder of what we in Britain sacrificed in the name of “choice”. If the pro-life side wins, it will partly be because their literature focuses overwhelmingly on the impact on anyone who isn’t “perfect” or “wanted”. That’s the creeping culture of death, and so many Irish voters appear to be willing it upon themselves.
Dare I say that the pro-choicers have one compelling argument? Abortion is already happening. Women are not prevented from travelling to Britain to get a termination, and some order abortifacient pills online. Therefore, for many liberals this vote is the last stagger over the finishing line, bringing Ireland into the 21st century.
Taoiseach Leo Varadkar talks about Ireland being “an island at the centre of the world”. He wants to make it like the rest of the world, by which he means the bits of the West he agrees with. Not only will Ireland’s distinct, Catholic ethic go, but so will the distinctive people it helped create. All that will be left is empty cots and silent streets.
There’s a story going around the internet that when the Boy Scouts of America dropped the “Boy” bit from its name, it lost 425,000 members overnight, as if 425,000 individual boys burned their scarfs. That’s rubbish; the truth is more interesting.
It’s the Mormon Church that has chosen to walk away, ending a 105-year partnership with the Scouts. The decision has been in the works for a decade and won’t take effect immediately. But it’s no surprise that conservatives are linking it to the Scouts admitting transgendered kids, gay adult leaders and even – yuck – some girls. The latter sounds to me like the utter death knell of the organisation. Boys join the Scouts in the expectation that they’ll be surrounded by other boys, doing mindlessly boyish things. Stick girls in and they’ll start flirting and washing.
Whatever the Mormons’ motivations (the church says it wants to develop separate but equally financed programmes for the sexes with a more spiritual dimension), the episode demonstrates their extraordinary numbers – one in five scouts, hence that 425,000 figure, and their ability to act as one body.
Why don’t we Catholics throw our collective weight around more? Perhaps because if our bishops tried, they fear the laity would simply ignore them and the last vestiges of clerical authority would vanish. That’s one reason why they’ve sat out of the abortion debate in Ireland. You don’t test a man’s loyalty when you suspect you’ve already lost it.
Thank heavens for Pope Francis, who doesn’t seem to care what the critics think. His bold intervention in the Alfie Evans case – on the side of parental rights – put so many of us cowardly Catholics to shame.
Tim Stanley is a journalist, historian and a Catholic Herald contributing editor
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