Category Archives: current affairs

In Memory of Veronica Guerin

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‘This is Irish journalism’s darkest day. For the first time, a journalist has been murdered for daring to write about our criminal underworld and daring to chronicle the lives of the brutal people who inhabit it.’ (Aengus Fanning, Irish Independent, 27 June 1996)

It has been twenty years since Sunday Independent journalist and mother of one, Veronica Guerin, was gunned down and brutally murdered on the Naas Road. Even though I never knew her, I think about her on her anniversary every year, and as an aspiring journalist I find myself asking the same question: was Veronica’s murder, described by the late Aengus Fanning as ‘an attack on democracy’, an act of bravery or sheer naivety on Veronica’s part?

I was twelve years old when the news of Veronica’s murder was reported on the six-one news on the 26 June 1996. I remember how my mother put her hand to her mouth and my father shook his head in disbelief. Even though I had no real interest yet in the nitty-gritty of Ireland’s politics, I knew that this shooting was significant. The images of the bloodied, smashed up car will stay ingrained in my mind forever. It was the first time that I’d ever heard of a journalist being targeted in such a brutal way, and the first time I’d considered that being a female journalist could be dangerous.

Two years later I would sit up way past my bedtime to watch a documentary detailing the extent of the drug problem in Dublin. I saw images of people shooting up in broad daylight, some who had committed petty crimes in order to fund their addiction. Some of them were in their early teens just as I was. This was my first introduction to what the sordid world of heroin and cocaine addiction looked like: needles everywhere, people sitting in their own excrement, so high on drugs that they barely knew what day it was.

Drug addiction and supply were still widespread problems, even after Veronica’s murder, but at least the problem had been thrown into the consciousness of the public who could no longer hide behind the predictability of their everyday lives.

Veronica was not merely a journalist, she was also a wife and mother. Bringing a child into the world is a great responsibility and protecting them from evil is an even greater one.   I’m a chicken. My writing is important, but I wouldn’t be willing to risk the safety of my child over it. But ironically, Veronica was most likely thinking of her son and trying to ensure that he wouldn’t grow up in the same horrible culture. Sadly, in trying to protect her son, Veronica became the target of three shootings (one through a window at home, one gunshot wound to her leg and the fatal shooting through the window of her car on the Naas road).

Indeed, there is much debate as to whether her actions were heroic or plain ridiculous. Emily O’Reilly, writer of Veronica Guerin: The Life and Death of a Crime Reporter was accused by many critics as deliberately setting out to sully Veronica’s name in the name of professional jealousy. In her book O’Reilly challenges everything that we know and believe about Veronica. She says that Veronica lied about her age in order to be  accepted into the Ogra Fianna Fail, and points out how she was accused of fabrication when reporting on the Bishop Comiskey Case. In addition, Veronica is depicted as being selfish, putting her career before the safety of her child. She continued to write despite being repeatedly targeted by gang members, even after John Gilligan *allegedly* threatened to rape and kill her son.

However Cate Blanchett, who played Veronica Guerin in the movie of the same title, says that such criticism of Veronica is too harsh, and in an interview she pointed out that being ‘a female journalist, the questions of her as a wife and a mother [such as] ‘how could she do this’ were asked in a way that wouldn’t be asked of a man.’

Veronica is now dead twenty years, and her husband Graham Turley observed in a recent interview with the Irish Mirror (published on 8 May, written by Blaithnaid Murphy) that: ‘Twenty years down the road we are back to stage one. It is getting to the stage where there is literally a shooting on the streets every day of the week.’ Drug abuse in Dublin City centre has again reached an all-time high to the point where the provision of safe injection centres and the legalisation of cannabis are slowly creeping onto the political agenda. Despite Veronica’s efforts, there is more focus on the petty criminals rather than the drug dealers who are undoubtedly profiting massively from the sale of these drugs.

So, if this is the case, was Veronica’s death in vain, or more to the point, did she bring about her own fate by playing with fire? I don’t think so, to be honest. If we really believe that it was partly Veronica’s own fault that she was murdered, we essentially exonerate her murderers of full responsibility for their crimes. Unfortunately, we live in Ireland where we typically try to understand the motives of those who break the law. On the whole, we try to see the best in people, including those who commit such despicable crimes.

True, Veronica Guerin may not have been perfect, but at the end of the day, she was the victim of the greatest crime there is – murder. Her methods may have been invasive and unorthodox, but she was still trying to do her job. Perhaps she did take on more than she could handle, but she paid the ultimate price. And her legacy will live on through her family, her articles, television documentaries and films, reminding us that drugs will always be a problem in Irish society unless we find a way to disempower drug barons and provide proper rehabilitation options for recovering addicts.

If Veronica’s life and death has taught us anything, it should be that the efforts of one person really do matter, and that if we join together and create a unified front progress, however slow, will eventually follow. But this won’t ever happen if we sit back and do nothing.

RIP Veronica, and thank you for trying to make our country a better place for children like yours and mine.

Show me what you’re worth

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Value and worth are based on  all sorts of things. There’s material value, namely, the kind of house you own, the kind of car you drive, the balance on your bank account. There’s emotional value, which I think means your support network, the people who are still there when you’re being whingy and clingy and annoying. In today’s fast-paced world, value is obviously placed on the person who can perform the most tasks within a set time frame. Words to describe this person might include dynamic, motivated, driven, dedicated.

From the cradle to the grave, it seems as if life can feel like a great big competition. Babies’ weight and height are constantly compared. From the moment our children start school, there are art competitions, handwriting competitions, sports days. Although our job as parents is to teach our kids that they can only do their best, somewhere along the these kids learn that it’s important to be the best, it’s important to win. Just today, my three and a half year old daughter came home, devastated because she didn’t win a game of musical chairs at playschool. She’s learning that sometimes she loses, that she can’t win all of the time. This is something that I as a parent must teach her, and yet, I can empathise with her. I know what it’s like to lose in a world where winning seems so important.

As the loyal followers of my blog will know (hi dad!) I’m on a six month career break at the moment, and although I am enjoying it, it’s hard as well. We are born into a society where we are taught from an early age that having the best job, the highest paying job is something we should aspire to. As a person with a disability, our narratives are quite different. First we are born, and most of the time our parents are told not to expect too much. If we live past  a week or two, that in itself would be a remarkable achievement. Our parents don’t love us objectively, however; to them, we are everything. They push us through the system, ignoring the derogatory comments, challenging the lack of educational supports, tolerating being called delusional and stubborn. They don’t accept that their children are not worthy of equal treatment, and in turn, as we grow older, we must continually challenge the system too, proving ourselves to be capable, autonomous individuals.

Historically, man’s worth has always been connected with their physical and intellectual strength. During the Stone Age, people with physical impairments were often left to die. During the Christian era, people with disabilities were viewed as objects of pity, as charity cases. Then of course Charles Darwin came up with his riveting ‘survival of the fittest’ theory, a notion that Hitler took very literally as he carried out ‘assessments’ on people with disabilities, where he decided whether people could live or die based on their physical and mental capabilities. Granted, Hitler was a lunatic – few would dispute that – but in spite of how controversial his plan of creating the perfect human race was, sometimes it feels that we haven’t moved far from the idea of equating somebody’s worth with what someone can physically do.

When I was in college studying feminism, we used to discuss something called ‘the virgin/whore dichotomy’. Basically, it was this notion that women were either one or the other, and that in failing to live up to the  ideal of  the perfect virginal woman, they were imperfect, damaged, inferior. I often feel that when a story is told in the media about disability, the subject is either portrayed as being super-inspirational or vulnerable. You know the stories I’m on about (I’ve  written some and been the subject of others), they normally go along the lines of ‘Despite being in a wheelchair and taking ten tablets a day, Joe has managed to learn Chinese and Computer programming,’ or ‘Because of the cutbacks to her Personal Assistant Service, Emma may not be  able to enjoy living independently in her own home for too much longer.’  Stories like the latter are often the only way to highlight how the recession has affected people with disabilities. We sacrifice our  dignity in order to get our point across. And I believe this should not be necessary.

People with disabilities have much to offer society, and they are worth far more than a paltry €30 on a Jobbridge Scheme. All the new plans to create jobs for people with disabilities are laughable because many of us don’t want to be segregated from the main workforce. All we want is equality, which is not the ability to do as much as our peers, but to be recognised as useful, productive members of society.  Hopefully the UN Convention on Human Rights for People with Disabilities will be ratified next year, even as a tokenistic gesture that everyone should have equal rights.

We are worth so much to society, and now it’s time for us to be more vocal and construct our own narratives. There is no  need to feel small and insignificant. Shout loud. Make sure your voice is heard. Don’t let people  make you think that your issues don’t matter because they’re only perceived to affect a small number of people.

We deserve equality, in spite of our limitations. We are worth  nothing less.

Budget 2016: What money can’t buy.

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In less than 24 hours, we as a nation will be picking at the bones of Budget 2016, due to be announced today. I’m sure as always spending increases and cuts will be debated all over the internet. It’s depressing to think of the citizens of this country glued to the TV and Radio, waiting to hear if the Government is going to be generous this year after seven years of cutbacks that have left many families struggling to pay their bills. But as we all know, election time is coming, so I’ve no doubt that serious attempts will be made to dupe the masses into thinking that this  government really cares about the average Joe. I doubt it. Many of us are still struggling to keep our head above water, and the homeless crisis is starting to spiral out of control. And for people with disabilities- well – many of us seem to be stuck in some sort of twisted time warp.

In recent months, there has been some much-deserved focus on the problem of people with disabilities being stuck in outdated institutions, where they are mere recipients of basic care. Many of these people are cut off from their local communities, and have little choice over their everyday lives. Every new HIQA scandal is a reminder that the current model of service provision isn’t working. About 8,000 people, 1,000 of which are under twenty-seven, are now living in residential institutions. I cannot imagine having spent my twenties in a hospital-like setting. I spent my twenties partying my way through college, getting work experience and going on holidays abroad. I chose to get married and have a child.  I live in my own home. As a thirty-one year old woman, I am doing well for myself. As a thirty-one year old woman with a disability, I am living a dream that some of my peers cannot yet access. And it’s not right.

A few weeks ago a man who I have known and respected for ten years, veteran disability activist Martin Naughton, staged a three-day protest outside the Dail and was joined by many colleagues and friends. He urged for this government not to spend €450 million on maintaining and building new residential institutions for people with disabilities and instead  to allow access to individualised payments that would enable us to choose the services we need to live equally and independently. Predictably, the protest ended on a disappointing note, with no concrete commitments made to improving service provision for people with disabilities. According to the group of protestors named the People with Disabilities group, more than 68% of service users are currently dissatisfied with services provided to them. They claim this is because the people who use these services are chiefly recipients of them and do not direct them themselves.

Let me ask you a question – who is more knowledgeable on what I need, me, or a team of medical experts who have had their noses in books for the last six years? Each and every person with a disability knows what they need, and what they don’t need. Every day government money is being wasted on organisations and institutions who claim to know what’s best for us. When you have the privilege of working in the disability sector for over ten years, you see first hand the effects of the cutbacks that were made during the recession. I’ve seen high dependency clients’ hours being cut to the bare minimum, often to take them out of bed in the morning and put them back in the evening. I’ve seen people having to fundraise in order  to have their houses adapted after acquiring disability because the Housing Adaptation Grant is no longer available. I’ve read stories where people are forced to choose between heating and food. Medical Card revocation, stopping the mobility allowance… I could go on and on.

I followed the response to Martin Naughton’s protest on social media and online papers, and of all the comments left on thejournal.ie, Suzy Byrne managed to clearly articulate the crux of the matter. She wrote: ‘We don’t need celebrities patting us on the head – all they usually do is turn up to rattle buckets for us and get pictures in paper. Same with most politicians – this is the problem – disability is not seen as a human rights issue but one of charity. And too many able bodied people benefit from this in terms of jobs and wages and status in society.’ Every year, after the pre-budget submissions and the announcement of the budget itself, there is silence. The media’s focus on people with disabilities tends to involve the words ‘triumph over adversity’ or ‘inspirational’ or ‘vulnerable.’ These articles tend to also use words ‘brave’, ‘courageous’ and ‘heroic’. There is nothing heroic about having a disability, but trying to push past condescending bullshit and trying to perceived as equals who have so much to offer this country is heroic indeed.

And that’s why we need the Government to listen to us, the experts of disability and spend the money (paid by us, the taxpayers – even those who don’t work buy goods and services) the way that we see fit in order to enable us to be truly equal citizens in this country, worthy of dignity and self -respect, not merely rattling coins in charity buckets. All we want is equality, and this is something money can’t buy.

Oh, and if Enda could deliver on his promise to ratify the United Nations Convention of the Rights of People with Disabilities, that’d be just peachy.

Equality for all

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It’s the night before the Marriage Referendum. I’ve read articles and stories from both sides and I’m ready, as the slogan urges us, to vote Yes for equality. But being who I am, I can’t turn off my thoughts about the word ‘equality’ and what it means in 2015. And here’s why.

I know that I use this blog to prattle on and on about the importance of disability rights. I am aware of how one-dimensional some of my posts may seem to those of you who know that I am more than my disability and am proud to know Sarah (this isn’t directed at any dads in particular by the way). But here’s the thing: despite being periodically frustrated by my limitations, I have embraced who I am. I know that I try to be understanding, accepting and tolerant of all others, simply because that’s how I expect to be treated, even though it is not always the case. I laugh off the insults, the condescension, the ignorance because at the end of the day, it shouldn’t really matter what people think of me. I am who I am, regardless of the labels people throw at me.

Over the last few months I have listened, watched and read arguments in favour of, and opposing same-sex marriage. You haven’t been able to avoid it unless you live under a rock; it was even on the front page of the Tullamore Tribune this week. Politicians, celebrities and ordinary citizens talking about which way they are voting in the Same-sex marriage referendum. People sharing their experiences of what it’s like to be gay in twenty-first century Ireland. It’s amazing how this referendum has forced people to face such a taboo subject head-on. To examine what it means for people living in shame of who they are. To explore people’s anxieties and deconstruct their misconceptions. To hear both sides argue their cases so passionately.

Ireland has progressed so much, people say. But allowing same-sex marriage won’t stop homophobia or hate crime. And although so much has been done to ensure that Ireland is becoming a more accepting and understanding society, I have to admit I still don’t feel it.

In the last two weeks two separate incidents involving people with disabilities made the headlines. The first was a man who was left on a train when the ramp was not provided to let him off the train. He was let off twenty minutes later, and he commented that never before had his disability made him feel so vulnerable. The second one was a woman who was denied access to a Dublin Bus because a buggy was occupying the wheelchair area. One wheelchair space for fifty-odd seats seems a bit discriminatory anyway. These are not isolated incidents, as I know only too well from working in the disability sector; everyone has a story to tell about public transport in Ireland.

How can Ireland be viewed as being progressive if there are still people in society who cannot even access basic services such as transport? Why are we still highlighting the same issues over and over again?

I thought I was being paranoid, so I decided to do some actual research. According to a report by the National Disability Authority in 2011 on attitudes towards people with disabilities, the number of people who believed that ‘it is society that disables people’ fell from 62% strongly agreeing and agreeing in 2006 to 57% in 2011. Not a significant drop, but a drop nonetheless. Furthermore, there was a decrease in the number of people who think that people with disabilities should be treated more favourably in certain circumstances (i.e. when their disabilities prevent them from doing things that a person without a disability could do) from 80% in 2006 to 68% in 2011.

It occurs to me as I read these statistics that the changes in the attitudes of those who partook in the study may be due to the onset of the recession. Since 2008, funding that was once earmarked for disability services has been restricted and the needs of people with disabilities have had to be prioritised. Every year disability organisations make pre-budget submissions, outlining how further cuts will have devastating consequences for their clients. When you have a disability, you become costly; a report launched by Inclusion Ireland in September 2014 estimates that the extra cost of disability is roughly €207 per week. That’s not even provided through our (means-tested) disability allowance. And because of this people with disabilities are more likely to live in poverty; many are caught in a welfare trap, afraid to move into employment in case they lose their secondary benefits such as medical cards and travel passes, and consequently they are either seen as spongers or dependent on the state.

How is this equality?

Tomorrow’s same-sex marriage referendum will come and go, and whatever the outcome, one thing is for certain: this referendum has given so many people a platform on which to relate their personal experiences, voice their opinions, and persuade the people around them of the merits and disadvantages of same-sex marriage. Giving the Irish people the opportunity to vote for same-sex marriage empowers the people and puts the potential of equality for same-sex couples in their hands.

Imagine, this time tomorrow, the right to marry your partner regardless of gender could be a reality.

Maybe, one day, equality for people with disabilities could be a given, too. But in order to achieve this, we need to be more vocal, more visible. We need to make sure that our voices are always heard. Not just around election time but every single day. Only when true equality exists should we fall silent.

PS Yes Equality!

Safety in an unsafe world

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Today, the sad news broke that 24 year old Karen Buckley was found dead after a three day search. At the time of writing this blog, a man has been arrested for her murder. Karen’s disappearance and subsequent death has saddened everybody: people who are in their twenties who know only too well that they are not immune from her fate; parents who worry about their children who have left the nest and are living in all corners of the world; parents of younger children such as myself despair at how we have brought our children into a world that is so dangerous that we become suspicious of our neighbours and sometimes even those we love.

I was talking to my aunt about this degeneration of modern society, how the world has somehow descended into utter chaos, a world where nobody bats an eyelid at reading about murders, rape, kidnapping, muggings. ‘I find it very sad and disheartening that Ali is growing up in such a horrible world where people don’t give a crap about who they hurt. Drugs and violence everywhere. Things are so much different nowadays.’ My aunt, having one or two more years’ life experience behind her than I do, smiled and said, ‘We have seen the atrocities of Northern Ireland, the muggings and the drug wars have raged on for decades. The only difference is that you now have a child. And when you have a child, the world seems to be a much scarier place, because you suddenly have to protect your child from it.’ These words came to mind as I read the news this morning.

Twenty-four is so young. I try and cast my mind back to what I was like in my twenties. I remember with more than a pang of guilt how I arrogantly screened my mum’s calls because we had fallen out over something trivial, and I didn’t care if she was worried. As a mum now, I’ve no doubt that she was sick with worry. What if something had happened to you? she’d said angrily, her face white from sleepless nights. ‘But nothing did, I’m fine, would you calm the fuck down’ was how I responded to her ‘ridiculous outbursts’. Yeah, I’m really not nice when someone tells me what to do.

As a college student, I went out on the town at every opportunity. I remember being in Blackpool and singing the Irish national anthem at the top of my lungs outside the most British pub I could find (I strongly believe my speech impairment saved my life that night. Incidentally – true story- a man was seriously injured in a fight a couple of yards from the pub, a few hours later. We were so lucky. And so stupid). I remember going to Mojos in Mullingar with a friend and walking/getting a lift on her knee through Mullingar while blind drunk, wading through the throngs leaving the nightclubs. Both of us were probably wearing short skirts at the time. And yet, if we had been attacked, would we have been blamed because we were in short skirts? Or because we had disabilities? Would it have been our fault?

My dad follows this blog (often he’s the only one to leave comments here – hi dad *waves*) and he is probably furious at me for being so reckless and irresponsible. It’s a wonder how he gets any sleep. I’ve tucked my baby up in bed and although I will get up a few times during the night to check her (as you do), I’m reasonably confident she will be okay and not wander off anywhere. When she was younger, we baby-proofed the house, and we put everything sharp/dangerous out of reach and hid washing and dishwasher tablets. Now she is more independent, making friends and slowly moving away from the protective bubble wrap I envelop her in. I have to trust when I leave her with others, such as friends and family, that she will be safe. And I’ve always found that so difficult, but that’s more my problem than anyone else’s. It’s hard sometimes to believe that I’m the same person as that twenty-four year old I described above. How I’ve become so cynical, so untrusting, so guarded in everything I say and do (except for this blog of course).

I would like to end this blog entry with this thought. Karen Buckley (who I don’t know and have never met) did not ask for her fate, and neither did anybody else who may have experienced a similar fate. People, young and old, make mistakes, act foolishly, do things that they regret, but nobody deserves to be murdered or hurt for making these mistakes. There will probably never be a world where there will be no need to tell our children ‘Don’t trust strangers. Don’t walk alone or you will get hurt. Always tell somebody about your whereabouts.’ Whatever happened to Karen was not her fault, and we must remember that. Only by exonerating the victim of any responsibility can we ensure that we create a safer world for others, and especially our children.

Is Ireland Ready to Address the Issue of Assisted Suicide?

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** This is a trigger warning. Please do not  read if you are triggered by the subject of Assisted Suicide **

 

Brittany Maynard from California was diagnosed with a Stage Four inoperable brain tumour in January 2014. Faced with the prospect of losing all cognitive function, Maynard moved from California to Oregon to avail of assisted suicide laws. Her death was announced on 2 November, mere hours after she announced that she had decided to postpone the original date 1 November. A fervent campaigner for the ‘Dying With Dignity’ movement in the US, Maynard’s death has once again forced us to examine the stance of assisted suicide in Ireland: is it ever acceptable to end your own life, or to ask a loved one to assist you in doing so?

The Oxford English Dictionary defines assisted suicide as ‘the suicide of a patient suffering from an incurable disease, effected by the taking of lethal drugs provided by a doctor for this purpose.’ Policymakers in the UK are on the verge of passing a law (the Assisted Dying Bill) that would allow those who assist a loved ones’ suicide to be granted immunity from prosecution. In Ireland, however, assisted suicide is still illegal under the Criminal Law Suicide Act. Although the act decriminalised suicide in 1993, abetting a suicide carries a punishment of approximately fourteen years in prison.

This controversial topic was explored in 2013 when the Supreme Court denied Marie Fleming, whose MS caused her constant pain and suffering, the right to end her life with the help of her partner Tom Curran. Fleming had argued that not being able to enlist help in taking her own life was in breach of her human rights, but according to the ruling, the Constitution acknowledges the right to life, but not the right to die. Also, had Tom Curran assisted his partner in committing suicide, he would not be immune from prosecution. Although Fleming died peacefully in her sleep on 21 December 2013, this was coincidental; it was still not the death of her choosing.

Fleming’s high-profile case forced Ireland to confront the prospect of assisted suicide, a subject which has gained much media attention in both the UK and Ireland in the last two years. On 17 October 2014, veteran presenter Gay Byrne, speaking about the proposed UK Assisted Dying Bill to Stephen Nolan on BBC Ulster, said: ‘My dread would be that I would lie a long time in awful pain and disability. I’d rather it happened very, very quickly’. Byrne is not the first Irish celebrity to openly share his views on the subject of assisted suicide; in 2013, Derek Mooney stated that he wants to take his own life if his health deteriorates in old age, and because he is afraid of loneliness.

The attention given by the Irish media to assisted suicide has been intensified by plans to legalise it in the UK. In May 2014, British chat show hosts Richard Madeley and Judy Finnegan revealed that they have made plans to assist each other’s suicide should the need arise. On 13 May 2014, Madeley told The Guardian ‘If Judy was ill and in illogical pain, I wouldn’t give a tuppenny if there was a risk of being prosecuted. I’d do what was right for my wife.’

This exact scenario was played out in Coronation Street last year, when the character of Hayley Cropper had a brain tumour, which failed to respond to chemo. She decided that she wanted to end her life on her own terms, much to the bewilderment of her husband Roy, who adored her. It was this love that enabled him to assist Hayley in her dying wish, even though Roy consequently suffered from anguish and despair long after her death. While Hayley was passionate about the right to die, Roy was insistent that his wife’s life should end naturally, which is representative of how emotive the subject of assisted suicide can be.

Furthermore, the history and circumstances surrounding assisted suicide means that the issue is complicated and will always be surrounded in controversy. Mooney’s reasons for contemplating assisted suicide are potentially damaging to the psyche of our society. Many of us have had to watch an elderly relative or friend suffer from dementia or Alzheimer’s and die a painful death. Often, it may seem like the kinder option to ‘put them out of their misery’.

However, it is difficult to forget that, less than a century ago, the Nazi regime ordered the involuntary euthanasia of thousands of children and later adults with disabilities across Europe during the Second World War. Those against the ‘right to die’ movement, which often include disability activists and supporters of rights for the elderly, worry that promoting the right to die will shift the focus from the provision of proper support services and palliative care, and start a descent down a ‘slippery slope’ that could be difficult to come back from. Dutch ethicist and former euthanasia supporter Theo Boer argues that ‘euthanasia is on the way to becoming a “default” way of dying for cancer patients’ and observes that doctors may come under pressure to grant access to lethal drugs on the basis of being ‘aged, lonely or bereaved’.

Assisted suicide has been legalised in five countries in the EU, including Switzerland, Belgium, Germany, Albania and Japan. Dignitas, an organisation based in Switzerland, performs voluntary euthanasia procedures, namely in the form of a lethal overdose, which induces a coma and, subsequently, death. Eight people have travelled from Ireland since 1998 to end their lives, one of which was in January 2014. Dignitas has been nicknamed a ‘suicide tourism destination’ by the media, and it is argued by many ‘right to die’ supporters that having to go abroad in order to avail of these services renders them inaccessible for those who are too far along in their illness to travel, or who simply cannot afford to do so.

It is interesting to note, however, that 70% of people who visit Dignitas clinics for an initial consultation never return to their clinics, which suggests that once faced with the reality of death, many people either change their minds or take their own lives. For many, it seems that the right to choose how and when they die may be more important than the ending of life itself.

Whether it is perceived as a religious, human rights or a medical issue, it is clear that the introduction of assisted suicide in Ireland is currently being explored, and it is an issue that will not magically disappear. Should this law ever be enacted, it is the responsibility of our lawmakers to ensure that safeguards are in place to prevent abuse. However, before we do this, we need to take it upon ourselves to ensure that our medical and community services are equipped to meet the needs of our elderly, disabled and ill citizens, so that assisted suicide can be offered in addition to, and not instead of, a comfortable quality of life.

Talkin’ bout a revolution (again)

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Election time has arrived again, and the atmosphere is almost electric. Posters on every pole, letterboxes crammed with manifestos, Facebook (and Twitter, I assume) home to pre-election scandal, the most recent being a van used for a candidate’s campaign parked illegally in an accessible parking space. This move caused outrage across social media sites this morning. Being a poet at heart, I saw this a metaphor for how far people with disabilities have yet to go in their quest for equality in Irish society.

Over the last five years, my profession has allowed me to explore and learn about the Independent Living Movement. I’ve studied the history of people with disabilities prior to the Movement and was physically sick after reading about the T4 Project which took place under Hitler’s reign during the Second World War. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this concept, I am talking about a scheme that Hitler himself devised where people with ‘incurable’ disabilities were institutionalised and later gassed or injected with a lethal substance (a ‘mercy death’).

The Independent Living Movement came almost twenty years later, coinciding with other human rights movements. I can imagine the excitement in the air as Ed Roberts, a young man and polio survivor, enlisted the assistance of an ‘attendant’ which enabled him to live away from home and attend university. He and a group of fellow ‘disabled students’ formed a group called the ‘Rolling Quads’ and they established the first Center for Independent Living in 1972. At this stage, the concept of somebody with a disability having control over the fundamental aspects of their everyday lives, such as deciding what time to get up in the morning, where to go, whether to work or pursue leisure activities was a foreign one.

And despite the Independent Living Movement arriving in Ireland in 1992, the physical and emotional freedom of people with disabilities is still in question.

We have to ask ourselves why, twenty-two years since the Personal Assistant Service was made available in Ireland, people in this country are forced to live in residential institutions and hospitals; why people who need the assistance to live independently live in fear of vital services being taking away; and how we got to a point where we say nothing in response to all the cutbacks in recent years in case we ‘rock the boat’, even though many people remain on a sinking ship, waiting to be rescued by a Government who caused us to sink in the first place.

It seems that Government is only interested in helping people with disabilities when times are good. Despite all the studies that have been conducted on the viability of the Personal Assistant Service, people are still living in institutions and hospitals, where they exercise little choice over their everyday routine. Having a disability is an expensive way of life, and yet medical cards are being revoked, housing grants are being refused and household allowances are almost non-existent. These cuts inhibit people with disabilities from participating fully in Irish society and ironically from contributing to society rather than sponging off the State.

So until we stand united and say ‘enough is enough – we want equality and guaranteed access to the services that will enable us to achieve it’, we as people with disabilities will always be vulnerable, passive recipients of services that are reliant on state funding. We need to ensure that in the future, we regain choice and control over our lives. The time for talking is now over; we need to speak louder with our actions.

Yet again.