Whatever the referendum result will be, it is likely that the Repeal anthology will still be discussed afterwards because, far from being a circumstantial text, it is a testament of how reproductive rights gradually became a central feature in Irish public debate and writings.
The panel discussion was meant to bring together Una Mullally and three other contributors: the poet Elaine Feeney, the poet and playwright Emmet Kirwan and the author and comedian Tara Flynn. However, it was cancelled on April 27th by Dublin City Council, the organizer of IFLD, purportedly because such an event was “specific” to the referendum. Even though “The Question of the Eighth” has been rescheduled as a stand-alone event (next Monday in Smock Alley Theatre), it does not change the fact that the decision by the DDC was based on a misreading, or even on an utter lack of reading, of the book.
Whereas a quick glance at the cover of the anthology might lead to the impression that it deals only with the question that will be asked to Irish citizens on May 25th, reading carefully its twenty chapters proves that the scope of Mullally’s anthology is far larger and that the book illuminates several aspects on what it means to be a woman in Ireland, nowadays as well as in the past. A supplemental proof that this book is unspecific can be found in the fact that some of its pieces do not even evoke directly the issue of abortion.
As evidenced by its title, the poem ‘Laundry’ by Mary Coll reflects on the burdensome legacy of Magdalen asylums. Similarly, ‘History lesson’ by Elaine Feeney seeks to intertwine the personal experience of the author, a narrative of the fight for reproductive rights, and a long-term account of the place of Irish women in their society. In a lighter tone, the chapter ‘What is a woman’ by Aisling Bea looks like a written and hilarious comedy sketch aimed at debunking stereotypes about “Women”, not as a legal dissertation or a political analysis of the Eighth Amendment. In Sineád Gleeson’s short novel ‘Infinite for now’, the protagonist’s abortion is almost inadvertently mentioned and does not constitute the beginning or the end of that intense story.
There’s no point in denying that Repeal the 8th is a highly political book and Martin Colthorpe, the programmer of the festival, explained that it was its very topicality that made it worth being debated in public. Some texts, especially the essay ‘We will win because we have truth and right on our side’ (penned by the executive director of Amnesty International Ireland) read like as a mix between a manifesto and an electoral strategy treaty. However, Dublin City Council’s ban of the event demonstrates that the very nature of the book and the intricate links that exist between art and politics were perhaps not fully grasped by its arts officer.
Indeed, saying that it is too political to discuss Repeal the 8th in a festival amounts to reduce this important and all-encompassing book to a mere collection of “Yes” tracts. It overlooks the literary quality and power of the book, plus the fact that half of the texts edited by Mullally were not specifically commissioned for the book. They existed years before the referendum. Whatever the referendum result will be, it is likely that the Repeal anthology will still be discussed afterwards because, far from being a circumstantial text, it is a testament of how reproductive rights gradually became a central feature in Irish public debate and writings.
Furthermore, implying that Repeal the 8th is only a piece of “Yes!” propaganda is utterly unfair to the extent that the book is far from being an unqualified eulogy of the Repeal Campaign. In her essay, the journalist Siobhán Fenton begins by stating: “The Repeal Movement has long been plagued by a Northern Irish blind spot within the campaign”. The columnist Kitty Holland regrets that the campaign to repeal the eighth has tended to consider reproductive rights as a “women’s issue” whereas it is, according to her, before all “an essentially human, and in Ireland, class issue”. Nell McCafferty is not as convinced as other contributors by the pro-choice marches and does not shy away from expressing some doubts about the demonstrations she partook in: “The thrust of current feminist shouts, particularly from the young, is almost exclusively on abortion, abortion and abortion to the exclusion of almost all else”. Welcoming these different voices in the anthology testifies to its double status: a “rallying call” of course, but also a honest “reflection” on the Repeal Campaign, its glories and its faults.
Given the level of intensity and violence that the “No!” campaign has now reached, it is ironic that a pro-choice ticketed literary event could have been presented as a serious threat to serene public debate. Given the number of adamant canvassers from the two sides taking the streets of Dublin these days, it is weird to hope that a festival will remain apolitical, just because it was organized by the ‘neutral’ Dublin City Council. A week before the referendum, few discourses and actions are likely to remain apolitical. It does not mean that they boil down to propaganda.
Propaganda never comes with self-analysis and self-criticism. It does not put together conflicting narratives and despises multi-layered discourses. Equating Repeal the 8th with propaganda is therefore only the proof that it might be worth taking a closer look to this remarkable and enduring book.
