Stand up for the love rights of gays and of people who have disabilities

FULL equality for gay, lesbian, and transgender people has been described as the last civil and human rights campaign. I support that proposition.

We will have a referendum, probably next year, to enable gay people to be married. I hope to participate in the campaign for a ‘yes’ vote.

All of this raises fear, of course, and we’ve seen ample evidence of that in the last couple of weeks. Fear and homophobia are a lethal mix. And, naturally, it’s not helped by stupidity.

The dumb and insensitive interview by the former rugby player, and now pundit, Neil Francis, to the effect that gay people have no interest in sport, just as he has no interest in ballet, is a classic example of that stupidity.

My own hope is that the gay community has the support of all of us, in their search for equality. But I’m putting out a call to them, now.

I want the gay community to support a much smaller human and civil rights campaign.

It’s every bit as important as their campaign. Of course it is — because equality is indivisible. We’re either all equal or none of us is.

But this campaign doesn’t require a referendum. It doesn’t need a national debate. It won’t require much time of radio and television. All it requires is the political commitment to pass a simple piece of legislation to end an injustice.

That injustice was highlighted by an absolutely brilliant programme on RTÉ One last night — Somebody to Love. It was a sensitive and moving portrayal of the dilemma often faced by people who have a disability when they fall in love.

That dilemma — in terms of the attitudes of official Ireland — was powerfully expressed by Sarah and JP Fitzgerald. They both have cerebral palsy, and a range of physical disabilities. That doesn’t stop them having a sense of humour, or being able to enjoy life to the full. It didn’t stop a deeply romantic courtship, and it didn’t stop them becoming the parents of a beautiful little girl.

Neither did it stop them being approached by a stranger when they were in hospital for the birth of their baby — a stranger who challenged their right to have a child at all, because they both have visible disabilities.

And it didn’t stop the system striking fear into Sarah’s heart that her baby could be taken from her, at any minute, by social workers who refused to believe in her capacity.

Sarah said on Somebody to Love that she has had to go through months of being afraid to bond with her own baby because of that worry.

Watching the programme, I wondered about the hundreds of babies and children in Ireland who live in fear and neglect each year, because of the acute shortage of social workers who can intervene early and in a supportive way.

How the system finds the time to make an obviously loving couple live in fear baffles me.

The programme also dealt with what Ciara Staunton described as her “final loss”. Ciara lost the use of her body, from the chest down, in a car accident — the car was being driven by her then boyfriend. Some time later, he told her that he could no longer deal with the wheelchair that is now her constant companion. Ciara is alone, rebuilding life and new relationships.

She, and her friend, Deirdre, know only too well how easy it is to be condescended to and patronised — even made invisible — by the presence of a wheelchair. I fell in love with Deirdre, her boyfriend said, when I stopped seeing the chair, and started seeing Deirdre. “Dee,” he said, “is just Dee.”

JP, Sarah, Ciara and Deirdre are extraordinary people. But sometimes they are the prisoners of our attitudes. When you hear their stories, you realise, once again, how little we’ve moved on. People with disabilities are still to blame for their disabilities. They still have to be stopped from doing what the rest of us regard as a basic right.

But at least they’re not criminalised. I hope everyone who watched the programme last night was pulled up short by one simple sentence — “in Ireland, it’s still illegal for people with an intellectual disability to have sex with one another”.

The programme featured the struggles of a number of people (including my daughter) to maintain a loving and romantic relationship. They were all people full of personality and fun — and no small amount of talent. They all have intellectual disabilities.

Because they have intellectual disabilities, Section 5 of the 1993 Criminal Law (Sexual Offences) Act outlaws any act of sex for them outside marriage. It was designed as a protection — to protect people with an intellectual disability from exploitation.

Ironically, that’s the same act that goes into history for decriminalising homosexuality.

But Section 5 is clumsily worded. A sexual act involving a person who has an intellectual disability clearly includes any sexual act between two people who have an intellectual disability. No matter how old they are, no matter how loving and stable the relationship, no matter how consensual the act, it’s still illegal.

And that has an immensely chilling effect on everything. If you watched the programme, you’ll have seen the Blue Teapot Theatre company’s challenge to the law. Their play, Sanctuary, (most of the cast have intellectual disabilities) is about that simple thing — a romantic date, in a hotel, a date that is destroyed by the law of the land. It brilliantly demonstrates the absurdity — and the cruelty — of the law.

THE law, as it stands, has other chilling effects, too. Many (though by no means all) service providers recognise the right of the people who use their services to fulfilling adult relationships, but the duty of care imposed by the law prevents them from being fully supportive.

And the makers of last night’s immensely powerful documentary also ran into some problems when the families of some of the participants withdrew consent to any discussion about sexuality — even though the participants were adults.

The Law Reform Commission has published detailed proposals to reform the law, to reflect the adult rights of people who have intellectual disabilities. They’ve even helpfully written a Bill to enable the Oireachtas to extend equality in human relationships to everyone. It’s a 12-section Bill that runs to less than three pages, and explains clearly the principles of consent.

But the Oireachtas seems to be in no hurry.

That’s why we may (and I hope we will) pass a referendum next year to enable gay people to marry, but we could still be sitting on a simple piece of legislation — the kind of legislation that can be passed in the wink of an eye — that would decriminalise people with an intellectual disability.

How ironic, and shameful, would that be?