The Direct Provision Report: A Missed Opportunity

DP ReportYou can find my preliminary analysis, including a full summary of the core recommendations from the McMahon Report on the Protection Process and Direct Provision System here. 

You can access the McMahon Report here.

From an initial reading and examination of this report, in my view, this is a report of two halves. One half of the report (Chapter 3 in particular) on the protection process and recommendations on the five-year grant of a form of residency status are clear and coherent. Clear recommendations are made as regards status determination and a substantial analysis of the rights of the child (along with other areas). That is not to say that the narrative of the McMahon Report in Chapter 3 is not without its issues (but I will leave this for another day). Throughout Chapter 4 and Chapter 5, highly qualified language and significant caveats infects the totality of recommendations on direct provision accommodation and ancillary supports.

Human Rights Obligations and Direct Provision Accommodation and Supports

From my initial reading of the report, there appears to be two unequivocal recommendations that may impact on those currently in direct provision, who are not resident in the centres for five years: an increase in direct provision allowance and the provision of a locker for each individual adult in direct provision accommodation centres. All other recommendations are subject to significant caveats as regards contractual obligations and implementation restricted in so far as reasonably practicable. For over 15 years, report after report has emphasised the significant violations of human rights that occur on a daily basis for those subject to direct provision accommodation and supports. The McMahon Report, while recommending an increase in direct provision allowance, does not recommend the payment of child benefit to those seeking protection in Ireland.

In my preliminary analysis (available here, pp. 19-26), I argue that the Working Group should have taken into account Ireland’s international obligations, in particular the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child. By not doing so, the McMahon Report entrenches the notion that asylum and protection seekers are less than human, deserving of only the most highly qualified rights in highly institutionalised settings.

Embedding Institutional Living in Direct Provision (see further, pp. 26-31, here)

The recommendations on living conditions and ancillary supports leave much to be desired. The solution to greater protection of protection seekers lies in neither in law nor in strategic litigation. While these are important in achieving broader aims and seeking to use law to promote human rights; only a fundamental re-evaluation of society’s approach to protection seekers in Ireland will result in the recognition of, what Arendt terms, “the right to have rights.” To date law and administration, and now the McMahon Report, will be used to justify exclusion, separation and distancing of protection seekers from Irish society and placing people in the direct provision system. Until there is more fundamental societal introspection, on “the rights of others”, institutionalised and impoverished living for protection seekers will continue. The significant controls over living conditions, eating arrangements’, near total supervision of the parental role, are relatively unchallenged by the McMahon Report. While there are some soft recommendations “in so far as practicable, and subject to any contractual obligations” as regards family living quarters, allocation of rooms to single applicants, possibility for individual or communal cooking, no other societal group has such enforced supervision of intimate aspects of daily lives. Public support for political action in limiting social rights of protection seekers have seen the most restrictive and punitive forms of control utilised within social welfare provision in the modern era.

The EU and the 25th anniversary of the UN Migrant Workers Convention

IJELWe are delighted to welcome this guest blog by Alan Desmond. This blog first appeared on

As we approach the 25th anniversary of the UN International Convention on the Protection of the Rights of All Migrant Workers and Members of Their Families (ICMW), Migrants Matter, a group of postgraduate students and young professionals concerned with the treatment of migrants in Europe, is calling on Dimitris Avramopoulos, the EU Commissioner for Migration, Home Affairs and Citizenship, to support ratification of the ICMW by EU Member States.

Adopted by the UN General Assembly on 18 December 1990, the ICMW is one of the ten core international human rights instruments. It is similar to some of the other core human rights treaties like the Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC) in that it takes the rights set out in the two treaties of general application, the ICCPR and the ICESCR, and codifies and elaborates on them in relation to a particularly vulnerable category of persons, in this case migrant workers and members of their families. What distinguishes the ICMW from the other core instruments is that it is the only one of the ten which has not yet been signed or ratified by any of the 28 EU Member States. Continue reading

Ashers Bakery Loses "Gay Cake" Discrimination Case

gay_cake_reuters-640x480In the spring of 2014 efforts to enact same-sex marriage legislation in the Northern Ireland Assembly suffered another setback. Undeterred, QueerSpace, a support group for the LGBT community in Northern Ireland, celebrated its 16th anniversary with an event pushing for reform of the law. Gareth Lee, a volunteer at QueerSpace, ordered a cake for the party bearing the slogan “Support Gay Marriage” from Ashers Bakery. When his order was subsequently rejected and his money returned on the basis that the message offended against the religious beliefs of the bakery owners, the McArthur family, these seemingly innocuous facts exploded into the “Gay Cake” case which has gripped public debate in Northern Ireland for the last year. Continue reading

Marriage equality: The end of the world as we know it?

We are pleased to welcome this guest post from Professor Donncha O’Connell, Head of the School of Law at NUI Galway.

Voting no to marriage equality will have as much effect on surrogacy and other forms of assisted human reproduction as voting no to divorce had on rates of marriage breakdown and voting yes to an abortion ban had on the numbers of abortions obtained by Irish women in the UK. Opponents of progressive social change seem to have scant regard for effectiveness in relation to the things that they oppose and, in this country, they have form. Continue reading

Childbirth, Choice and the Courts: The 8th Amendment and More.

Article 40.3.3 of the Constitution reads: ‘The State acknowledges the right to life of the unborn and, with due regard to the equal right to life of the mother, guarantees in its laws to respect, and, as far as practicable, by its laws to defend and vindicate that right.’  We typically think of this as an Article designed to prohibit abortion, while forgetting that the text of the provision is not  so limited. In Roche v. Roche the judges of the Supreme Court came to differing views about its application outside the abortion context. There are two approaches. We may focus on the language, which is sufficiently broad to regulate all pregnancies, and not only those which it is immediately sought to terminate by abortion (see the judgment of Murray CJ). Alternatively, we remember that there are specific reasons why this provision is in the Constitution in the first place – that it was sought to copper-fasten the existing statutory prohibition on abortion –  and do not permit it to regulate all pregnancies (see the judgments of Denham J, Geoghegan J, and also the decisions in AG v. X and Baby O, cited by Hardiman J. in his Roche judgment).  I think the latter is the better reading of the authorities, but the more expansive reading has tremendous force. For example in P.P. v. HSE, the Amendment was invoked by the High Court in a case in which it was sought to withdraw somatic care from a brain-dead pregnant woman. We know, also, from the June 2013 report into the case of Savita Halappanavar (and from the testimony of other women in the wake of that case) that the Amendment was considered binding in day-to-day practice in the management of inevitable miscarriage.

It is still not clear what the legal consequences of the more expansive reading have been for Irish maternity care, particularly in cases where there is disagreement between a woman and her doctors as to how her pregnancy should be managed. The National Consent Policy says:

The consent of a pregnant woman is required for all health and social care interventions.   However, because of the constitutional provisions on the right to life of the “unborn”, there is significant legal uncertainty regarding the extent of a pregnant woman’s right to refuse treatment in circumstances in which the refusal would put the life of a viable foetus at serious risk. In such circumstances, legal advice should be sought as to whether an application to the High Court is necessary.

There has been very little guidance from the courts. I would instinctively argue that no 8th Amendment issue should arise in cases where a competent woman wishes to make a healthcare decision which her doctors feel is unwise, but which does not place the foetus’ life at risk. We tend to forget that the unborn has only one right – the right to be born alive. In Baby O, the Supreme Court rejected the notion that the right to life of the unborn encompassed a right to be born safely, or a right of access to medical treatment to ensure the child, once born survives infancy. Nevertheless, where the risk to the foetus is a risk to its future health, for example, it is unclear whether a woman’s decision could be overridden. There is conflicting unreported High Court authority on this point, in cases of HIV positive pregnant women, as reported by Katherine Wade in this earlier blog-post.

It is certainly true that a barrister acting on behalf of the HSE in seeking to compel a woman to submit to unwanted medical treatment will find it easier to make their case if they can suggest that the woman’s preferred course of treatment places the foetus’ life at risk. In getting to that point, cases are likely to turn on expert evidence. The level of risk required to invoke the right to life of the unborn may be quite low – for example in the 2010 case of Mother A, the relevant risk was of occurrence of uterine rupture during vaginal birth after C-section.  The risk of death of the foetus due to uterine rupture in such births is generally accepted to be small, and could not be analogised to the certainty of death involved in an abortion, for example.

We do not have any direct reported judgments in cases where the court has been satisfied that the foetus’ life was placed at risk by a pregnant woman’s medical decision. However, we can guess at how they are decided. Following PP v. HSE, it can be said that the unborn has the right to all practicable medical intervention – even deeply invasive intervention –  necessary to facilitate its being born alive. ‘Practicable’ here means treatment which is neither futile nor contrary to the ‘best interests’ of the unborn – treatment which is not at the outer reaches of medical best practice. It is difficult to say what points a pregnant woman could advance to argue that she should not be subjected to deeply invasive treatment to secure the right to life of the unborn, or that she should be allowed to choose less damaging treatment which poses a greater risk to the foetus’ life. The best evidence that we have of the kinds of arguments which might be made comes from newspaper reports in the Mother A  case. A dispute arose between a pregnant woman and Waterford Regional Hospital when she refused to consent to a C-section, preferring a natural birth. The hospital argued that the woman’s pregnancy was so far along that her refusal was jeopardising the life of the unborn.The High Court had been asked to grant an order compelling the C-section, but the woman relented. In argument, Eileen Barrington SC for the hospital had argued that the relevant ‘clash of rights’ was between the woman’s right to refuse treatment and the right to life of the unborn. Assuming this case  has not been misreported, the argument suggests that the woman has constitutional rights which must be taken into account in ‘maternal-foetal conflict’ cases, even if her own life is not placed at risk by the pregnancy. We can guess that a similar set of arguments was advanced in Ms. Y’s case in the High Court, when it was sought to subject her to an unwanted C-section (apparently one of the permissible modes of responding to a woman’s request for termination of a pregnancy under the PLDPA). It might be that the ‘Mother A’ argument is heartening because it may leave room to discuss and elaborate upon others of women’s rights than the basic right to life, but it is difficult to build on this observation without further information. ( P.P. v. HSE  is of very little use on this point because, at the time the decision was made, P was already brain dead and, in the court’s view, had no remaining interests except in respect of  ‘the feelings of grief and respect’ which others associated with her body.)

If the 8th Amendment were repealed tomorrow, what effect would it have on the maternity care system? Not every case in which a woman’s preferences are overridden by the HSE is strictly an 8th case, or a maternal-foetal conflict case. We often talk about the ‘chilling effects’ which the 8th has on women’s access to abortion – doctors imagine some inchoate risk of prosecution and so do not provide legally mandated abortion services. We could argue that there is a parallel ‘chilling effect’ in terms of women’s choices around childbirth – HSE personnel imagine a constitutional duty to restrain meaningful forms of maternal choice, lest the foetus be placed at even the smallest risk. This imagined constitutional duty is, of course, a product of vernacular and not direct judicial interpretation. But even if the 8th were removed, some worrying structures would remain in Irish healthcare law, which may owe some of their origins to the 8th but are supported by other independent rationales. I will outline them briefly.

The first concerns the regulation of home births, challenged in Teehan v. HSE.  There are two main sites of regulation; a Memorandum of Understanding, or contract, between self-employed midwives and the HSE, and the Nurses and Midwives Act. The Memorandum provides that the HSE will not provide indemnity cover midwives who attend a home birth where the woman has previously had a C-section. The indemnity is a key site of control of independent midwives and women who prefer home birth, as the recent Philomena Canning case demonstrates. The Act provides in s.40 (not yet implemented) that a midwife who provides any service without insurance shall be subject to criminal penalties. In Teehan, O’Malley J. held that the HSE has extremely wide discretion in determining which maternity services to provide; as the party accepting the risk, it was for the HSE to decide which risks to insure. This is an interesting decision because O’Malley J. privileges institutional needs over individual choice without very much analysis. She dismisses the invocation of Article 8 ECHR via Ternovskycharacterising it as a decision about legal uncertainty, rather than as a more expansive decision about the mother’s entitlement to ‘a legal and institutional environment that enables her choice, except where other rights render necessary the restriction thereof. For the Court, the right to choice in matters of child delivery includes the legal certainty that the choice is lawful and not subject to sanctions, directly or indirectly’. She made no comment on s.40 of the Act because it was not yet in force – though arguably this is the kind of sanction which at least falls to be justified under Ternovsky.

The second is apparent in the negligence action in  Hamilton v. HSE.  In this case, Ms. Hamilton argued that a midwife had negligently broken her waters,  leading to a very traumatic birth by emergency C-section, with long-lasting psychological consequences.  The case, like all negligence cases, turns on judicial assessment of conflicting expert evidence. The court’s function is ‘merely to decide whether the course of treatment followed, on the evidence, complied with the careful conduct of a medical practitioner of like specialisation and skill to that professed by the defendant’, and not to determine whether best practice was followed. In part, that was why Ms. Hamilton’s action failed. However, there is an interesting section in which Ryan J. responds to the plaintiff’s contention that the midwife broke her waters without first seeking consent; whether Ms. Hamilton was assaulted. Paragraph 16 is instructive:

Mr Buckley challenged the plaintiff’s evidence that she was not told or warned about the ARM and that the midwife had simply carried out the procedure without preamble. Midwife Kelliher gave evidence that she had discussed the procedure with the plaintiff, she had with her the amnihook and had to get the plaintiff’s co-operation as to the position she was in for the procedure to be carried out. Mrs Hamilton would have seen the hook and would have known what was going to happen because of the sheet that was put under her in bed. Since, on the evidence, this was a routine procedure that Ms Kelliher was carrying out for the purpose of diagnosis to see if her fear of foetal distress was justified or not, it does seem strange that she would not have mentioned to the patient what she was going to do and have obtained her consent. The very fact that it was so routine suggests that the midwife would have done so. I am satisfied that the probability is that Midwife Kelliher obtained the plaintiff’s consent and informed her about the ARM that she was going to perform.

Given Ireland’s recent history of maternal deaths, there would be something to be said for forensic judicial attention to the extent to which labouring women’s voices are heard in maternity hospitals. AIMS’ recent research found that ‘while 67% of women [surveyed] agreed that basic consent had been sought during labour and birth, 52% of those surveyed did not receive information on potential implications to have or not have tests, procedures, treatments to assist with their decisions, and only 50% felt able to make an informed refusal during their labour and baby’s birth’. Consent requirements are an essential protection for women’s autonomy and must be taken seriously.

Both of these cases speak to a subordination of women’s autonomy to other concerns. The demands of insurance, and a reluctance to take the requirements of consent seriously, may provide a shield for defensive (some might say aggressive) maternal medicine long after the ‘de-constitutionalisation’ of pregnancy.

For further information see the Association for Improvements in Maternity Services (AIMS).

Guest Post: 20 years after Beijing: let’s take a few steps back.

We are pleased to welcome this guest post from Leonard Taylor, who is a PhD candidate at the Irish Centre for Human Rights, NUI Galway. His research topic is on Catholicism and human rights.  You can contact him l.taylor3[at] 

This post is in response to Aoife O’Donoghue’s article [20 Years after Beijing: Taking a few steps back? Mar 11, 2015].

The number of people identifying as Catholic leaped from an estimated 291 million in 1910 to nearly 1.1 billion as of 2010 [link]. The Catholic Church sees itself as a necessary actor in the political sphere [Gaudium et Spes § 76]. Certainly, interest in the activity of Catholicism as a global actor has peaked in part response to a time we identify with a resurgence of religion. Understanding some of the history of women in Catholicism that goes beyond the basic binary opposition is important particularly where there is a view of the Holy See (and Catholic Church) as, as Aoife O’Donoghue remark in her recent post, ‘a powerful voice against women’s substantive equality when it is completely dominated by one sex and one view of the role of women should be a serious issue for the UN’. It would appear to highlight and identify the Holy See as problematic or creating rollback for women’s rights with singular responsibility for the watering down of the UN Commission on the Status of Women Declaration but this tends to blur the broader picture of the relationship between women’s rights and Catholicism. Continue reading

Health, Gender-Based Violence and the Right to Reparations in Ireland.

I do not accept the Deputy’s comment that the Government is neither sympathetic nor decent in respect of the work it does here. As pointed out with regard to the Magdalen laundries, Priory Hall and many other sensitive serious issues the Government has been sympathetic and decent.

Enda Kenny, May 2014.

Redress is in the news again. The long-awaited Redress for Women Resident in Certain Institutions Bill will be debated in the Dail next week. Justice for Magdalenes Research have condemned the Bill for ignoring Mr. Justice John Quirke’s recommendation that the women receive the equivalent of a HAA medical card. ((For a very clear explanation of the difference between what the government is promising and what Quirke recommended, see Maeve O’Rourke here. See here for an especially patronising response to these concerns from the Taoiseach, suggesting that the state’s primary concern is to protect women from fraudulent ‘angel healers’)) At the end of January, the first of many symphysiotomy cases comes on for hearing in the High Court. Meanwhile, the Harding Clarke redress scheme is clearly stalling badly, judging by its own progress reports. Progress on the Magdalenes redress scheme is similarly sluggish.  Neither redress scheme has drawn much praise (see here and here). But now it appears that the government is unwilling even to fulfil the limited promises it made to victims.

In 2011, UNCAT said that the state must “ensure that all victims [of the Magdalene Laundries] obtain redress and have an enforceable right to compensation, including the means for as full rehabilitation as possible.” Last summer, the UNHRC held that the state must “provide the survivors of symphysiotomy with an effective remedy for the damage sustained, including fair and adequate compensation and rehabilitation, on an individualized basis.” How do we understand the state’s current lacklustre responses to these obligations?

We already know that the state’s agents are willing to install, and vigorously police, essentially arbitrary distinctions between classes of citizen who have a claim to financial reparation for historical injury. A recent example is the State Claims Agency’s high-handed disregard for Louise O’Keeffe and another 135 adults who were sexually abused in primary schools before 1991. Others are written into the terms of reference of the inquiry into the mother and baby homes, which exclude both the Magdalene laundries, and private illegal adoptions from investigation. The state’s treatment of these issues is at an early stage. Indeed, it is not yet clear whether the mother and baby homes investigation will lead to a programme of redress, financial or otherwise. But the experiences of women who have applied to the state for redress gives us a sense of what awaits these groups in the future.

There has been almost no academic examination of the operation of established Irish redress mechanisms, or of the suite of practices which are already being used to minimise the redress paid to survivors of historical abuse. Such studies are badly needed. However, at the moment, we can clearly see that the state is undermining access to redress for both the Magdalene women and survivors of symphysiotomy and is using parallel techniques to do so.

Improper reliance on records which are untrustworthy or difficult to access:  Women who have applied to the Magdalenes redress scheme have reported difficulties in establishing their length of stay. The size of a woman’s redress payment under the scheme is based on how long she was in a laundry. The relevant records are held by the religious orders. In 58% of cases, according to the McAleese report itself, the date of exit was not recorded. In other cases, women’s own testimony as to their length of stay is contradicted by the religious orders’ records, often by a matter of some years. In such cases, the government says that it will explore records held by other departments. So far, it is not clear whether a woman’s own word – for instance in a sworn affadavit – will do. Some women will be required to submit to an interview – which presents clear difficulties for those who cannot travel, who still live the religious orders who ran the Magdalene Laundry where they were first incarcerated, or who otherwise lack capacity. If a woman disagrees with the provisional assessment of her length of stay, she is expected to request that her claim be reassessed by ‘an officer of a higher grade’ within the Restorative Justice Implementation Unit at the Department of Justice, whose decision can then be appealed to the Ombudsman. The state makes a minimal contribution to her legal fees.

The symphysiotomy redress scheme is, at least, overseen by a judge but both schemes are driven by bureaucratic, paper-based assessment. So, the same issues arise in relation to symphysiotomy. In order to apply for a payment of 100,000 euro under the symphysiotomy redress scheme, women must show that they suffered various injuries as a result of the procedure, and that the injuries continued for more than 3 years after the symphysiotomy was performed.  To demonstrate that temporal and causal link, the women must be able to provide records which date from the time of the symphysiotomy, including GP records. The Minister for Health believes that the women’s symphysiotomy-related disabilities are evident from looking at them, but that is not the sort of test the scheme applies.

“A current medical report based upon a subjective history of events as you tell them to a doctor is unlikely to be sufficient evidence to satisfy the requirements of 1B of the Scheme. Objective evidence showing medical investigations or treatment over the years attributable to the surgical symphysiotomy will be required.”

Many women did not approach a doctor for years because of the traumatic effects of the surgery. Others did not obtain, at the time, appropriate treatment or referrals which would indicate the types of injury which qualify for redress under the scheme. Some women’s GPs have since died, and they are being asked to trace records from other specialists, hospitals and pharmacists. In order to apply for any redress payment at all, of course, women must be able to identify the hospital where they underwent the procedure, and the date when it was performed. This is another hurdle. In December, a cache of unpublished records relating to the performance of symphysiotomy in three major maternity hospitals was released, but women are still experiencing difficulties in obtaining their individual files.

The state is, of course, aware of these problems. In a recent progress report, those administering the Symphysiotomy Payments Scheme admit that most of the 568 applications received by the scheme closing date were not accompanied by the required records. It is inevitable that, like the Magdalenes scheme, this scheme will need to alter its expectations if the very large number of outstanding applications can be properly processed.

In sum, both redress schemes require ill, elderly, and in some cases very vulnerable women to navigate inadequate systems of record keeping, and the burden of proof is firmly on them.

Closing off other avenues to recompense: Both the Magdalene and symphysiotomy redress schemes require the women to waive any future legal claims against the state (and in the case of symphysiotomy against a raft of other private parties). State-funded hospitals are, of course, defending symphysiotomy claims with astonishing energy, leading to unnecessary delays in cases’ coming on for hearing, and perhaps discouraging women who  would otherwise insist on their right to access the courts.  Justice for Magdalenes Research has argued that the waivers are on shaky ground now, because they were signed on the understanding that the state would make very particular provision for the women. If the state’s position has now substantially changed, the women may have claims in legitimate expectation, or may be able to revive other substantive legal claims by setting the waiver aside. Members of Survivors of Symphysiotomy are bringing a batch of civil claims to court in the coming year (though, as I have written before, the redress scheme is designed to back them into a corner and persuade them to give the claims up).

Inadequate investigation of wrong-doing: We have been over this point – about the inadequacy  of the McAleese and Walsh reports – many times before. Neither report was designed to establish liability, both reports ignored available routes to survivor testimony, and advocacy groups have repeatedly expressed disquiet about the ways in which both reports have downplayed the seriousness of the harms which women suffered. Justice for Magdalenes Research have been working on an alternative study which contradicts key findings of the McAleese report, while Survivors of Symphysiotomy look to the courts, and possibly other fora to produce better individualised narratives of the ‘truth’ of the practice. Women have also given important testimony to (largely foreign) media outlets such as the GuardianAl Jazeera and the BBC. The investigations left the state with too much room for manoeuvre, because they do not attribute real responsibility to anyone. Both redress schemes are ex gratia, and this leaves payments especially vulnerable to ‘claw-back’. The State can present itself as ‘looking after the women’ rather than as obliged to atone, and to compel others to atone, in concrete terms, for specific wrong-doing. It can present itself as ‘facing up to the past‘ when its systems of redress often serve to compound the harm women have already survived.

Hostile administration of the schemes: All of the above points to the establishment of schemes which are essentially hostile to women’s claims. But there is more. I have already written about the state’s use of unreasonable time limits to manage would-be applicants to the symphysiotomy redress scheme, by putting both them and their legal advisors under pressure. (The Minister for Health says that these time limits were put in place to help the women to come to a resolution quickly…) It has also repeatedly deployed Patient Focus – a HSE-funded group which has a very poor relationship with the majority of survivors of symphysiotomy – to make statements downplaying women’s valid criticisms of the scheme. Many women will require professional and familial support to engage with either scheme. In that context, some will be vulnerable to exploitation. Justice for Magdalenes Research have also noted that the forthcoming Bill does not make proper provision for women who still live with the laundry orders, and whose decision-making capacity is in question, to have proper advocacy support. These tweets from last week’s Justice for Magdalenes Research press conference speak to women’s sense of disappointment and exclusion. I imagine many members of Survivors of Symphysiotomy would identify with them.

After the 8th. #repealthe8th

#AbortionPillTrain Film from Whackala on Vimeo.

Tomorrow, Clare Daly’s Bill to Repeal the Eighth Amendment will be debated in the Dail. A rally to support the Bill will begin outside the Dail at 7pm. Daly’s Bill is interesting because it proposes replacing the 8th Amendment with a new provision which would provide explicit protection for the constitutional right of bodily integrity. Bodily integrity is, of course, a limited negative right. It is a right of non-interference. Arguably, the constitution would also benefit from the inclusion of a positive right to self-determination, particularly in matters of medical treatment. We could think much harder about how we have failed to vindicate that right in the years since it was enumerated in Ryan v. Attorney General. But, as it stands, the Bill still makes an impressive rhetorical move in a context in which abortion is inevitably ‘constitutionalised’ to some degree. It takes a provision which was has repeatedly been interpreted – by courts, Attorneys General, doctors and public servants – to mean that women’s constitutional rights must be subordinated to the right of the foetus to be born, and replaces it with an explicit commitment to the bodily integrity of born persons.

Clare Daly’s Bill is politically useful because it gestures towards a new approach to the rights of pregnant persons in Ireland. With the 8th gone – whether that is in 2 years or 10 – the entire legal landscape changes. It is not only that it becomes possible to regulate abortion and maternity care differently, but that the primary legal justification for draconian abortion legislation – in particular for criminal legislation – falls away. This distinction – between what is possible and what is required – is very important. It means that the state will now be required – as a matter of constitutional, European and international law – to justify the architecture of interference, coercion and containment which has built up around the abortion issue for decades. The government would need to show that every legal interference with women’s rights to life, health, bodily integrity, conscience and freedom from inhuman and degrading treatment (i) fulfilled some legitimate public aim and (ii) was proportionate to the achievement of that aim. Proportionality is the new watchword here. Unflinching uncaring absolutism is no longer permissible. The burden of proof shifts from women to the state and it shifts hard. If the state wants to recreate some form of protection for ‘unborn life’ it has no constitutional excuse for doing so.

What should new abortion legislation look like after the 8th? Note that I say ‘should’, not ‘could’. If it were up to me, Ireland would adopt legislation something like that of Victoria.  In Victoria, the abortion legislation simply provides that ‘a doctor may perform an abortion on a woman who is not more than 24 weeks pregnant’. After 24 weeks, ‘a doctor may perform an abortion on a woman who is more than 24 weeks pregnant if he or she reasonably believes that the abortion is appropriate in all the circumstances.’ ‘Circumstances’ there includes ‘all relevant medical circumstances, and … the woman’s current and future physical, psychological and social circumstances.’ If I had my way, Irish women could continue to use ‘the abortion pill’ as they do already, but they could get the pills easily, on prescription from their pharmacist, at an accessible price, with access to compassionate medical advice if they needed it and with no taint of legally-grounded stigma. We would not only remove the unworkable criminal prohibition on self-induced abortions – a prohibition which the DPP will not enforce – but we would allow women to deal with their own medical needs safely in their own homes.

I think a law like that is possible in Ireland after the 8th Amendment, and I would devote a great deal of time and energy to arguing for it if I thought it had any hope of attracting political support. But I know it doesn’t, at least in the current party political system. I accept that political distrust of women’s decision-making runs deep. I accept that, in Ireland as in so many other countries, we assume that it is for women to bear the burdens of pregnancy even when these become dark and terrible, and that we think that a woman should only be relieved of those burdens if she really truly deserves it. I know that the Irish approach to abortion law will be a law of prohibition with some exceptions, until we find new kinds of people to make the laws.

In this context, we fall back on legal duty – on the established watchword ‘proportionality’. Proportionality is guaranteed a starring role in post-8th litigation – whether in a post-referendum challenge to the PLDPA2013, in an Article 26 reference of new abortion legislation to the Supreme Court, or in some other forum.  In Attorney General v. X Walsh J. used the word ‘mercy’. ‘Proportionality’ provides women with a little more breathing space than that. It says to the state: ‘watch where you’re standing, not too hard, don’t destroy her’. Proportionality tells the state that in selecting  its exceptions it cannot ride roughshod over women’s rights. And it tells the state that once it has selected its exceptions and it implements its policy of ensuring that only the deserving can access an abortion, those women able to meet the test must be supported in accessing the healthcare they need. That access cannot be neglected or indirectly undermined or outright thwarted, whether in the direct context of accessing abortion,  in the workings of appeals panels, in the provision of public health services or in any of the other myriad sets of norms, practices and regulations into which the 8th has sunk its teeth. If you have a legal right to access an abortion, you must be enabled to access it.

On this reading, we need to ask new questions of Irish abortion law. In the wake of the Ms. Y case, there seemed to be some emerging public agreement that Ireland should pass abortion law to meet the minimum standards required by international human rights law i.e. the law should make some provision for abortion in cases of rape, incest, fatal foetal abnormality and risk to the life or serious risk to the health of the pregnant person. (The Labour Party has been at this position since its Wrynn Report of 2003). But a proportionality analysis requires more than picking the grounds. It requires us to think carefully about how the grounds would be framed in law and about how they would be put into practice. We need to pay attention to:

  • Stigmatising threshold tests for access to abortion: Decriminalisation is important and removing criminal sanctions would open up a range of possibilities for access to abortion. But the official grounds for access to abortion will matter. In a context in which abortion is decriminalised, there is a real danger that law’s stigmatising functions will shift elsewhere. If a ‘rape ground’ is included in a new Irish abortion law, access to abortion must not be made conditional on reporting the rape to the police or other offers of the criminal justice system. It must not be made conditional on some special medical examination. Disclosing the rape must be enough.  If some extra threshold test is required, it is because the law does not trust women and we think that their dishonesty can be exposed by the right experts.  Neither can the law distinguish between grades of sexual assault entitling women to an abortion. Similarly – and this was a debate which dogged the PLDPA – it cannot impose additional burdens on women who are mentally rather than physically ill. To do so is to play, again, into representations of women as deceitful and dangerous. It may be that, if we cannot guarantee that these grounds will be drafted or administered appropriately, it would be better not to have them at all and to make abortion available under more general ‘universally applicable’ health grounds instead. Women cannot be expected to go to court to contest discriminatory administration of the abortion legislation. It must be ‘stigma-proofed’ to begin with.
  • Beyond risk to life: It should be clear by now, following the death of Savita Halappanavar, that the existing ‘risk to life’ ground for access to abortion has been defined too narrowly.  A ‘health ground’ is necessary to cover cases in which. although the woman’s health is clearly very poor and the pregnancy worsens her condition, it cannot be said that her life is yet at risk.  Even with a health ground in situ, the law must avoid reproducing the risk of conservative interpretation in another place. This is a very real risk – even if doctors would no longer run the risk of criminalisation for ‘getting it wrong’. Any health ground should not be drawn so tightly that it is inaccessible to all but those whose life is ‘almost but not quite’ in danger, while other very ill women are left to travel even though their health is clearly compromised by the pregnancy, or their condition interacts with their social and economic circumstances in harmful ways.
  • Live birth: There will, inevitably, be demands for the law to impose a threshold or thresholds – whether time-based or otherwise – after which it will be  impossible to access an abortion. Rigorous scrutiny of existing medical practice is required at this juncture, even though these sorts of provisions will affect only a tiny minority of cases.
    • First, we must consider how the thresholds are defined. ‘Viability’ sounds good,  but what does delivering a baby at 24 weeks’ pregnancy look like?  ‘Fatal’ foetal anomaly has often been used to describe one of the key sorts of context in which abortion is necessary and permissible in the late second trimester or afterwards, but it is a similarly slippery term. We should be cautious about writing a provision into law which ensures that some women who would currently be advised to travel to Liverpool Women’s Hospital  for a termination can receive treatment at home, while others are left in the lurch.
    • Second, we must consider what happens to woman where these thresholds are not met – as for instance where a woman’s pregnancy is considered viable but the pregnancy poses a risk to her life. What does it mean to say that doctors would have an obligation to ‘preserve’ the life of a ‘viable’ foetus in this context? Consider Ms. Y’s case. Might a woman be detained and required to submit to medical treatment designed to prolong her pregnancy until it were safer for a baby to be born? Might she be subjected to an unwanted induction or C-section?  Can these interventions be considered a proportionate interference with her constitutional and other rights? Given how little reported case law we have to direct doctors or judges in the context, what sorts of statutory protection can we expect? How might protection for the foetus in this context bleed into other areas of medical care?
  • Medical power:  We need to think about what it is like for a woman to assert her right to an abortion against a conservative or reluctant doctor, or a hospital ethics board. Not all of those who will be involved in administering any new abortion laws are pro-choice….to put it mildly, and the PLDPA made no efforts to engage with this issue, much less regulate it. In designing, for instance, conscientious objection provisions, or statutory provisions determining whether a woman’s access to an abortion should be ‘certified’ or ‘authorised’ by a doctor, or in scrutinising potential conservative proposals designed to delay or inhibit abortion access, we need to think  very carefully about how power circulates in medical decision-making contexts. There are three kinds of questions here:
    • How can women be supported to make informed decisions, and to assert their wishes, in difficult medical contexts? How can law alleviate likely sources of coercion, undue influence and distress?
    • How can the state ensure that necessary medical services are made available, even if a large number of doctors are in practice unwilling to provide them? To what extent will we ultimately be relying on private clinics to establish bases here?
    • How does Irish medical practice around ‘preserving unborn life’ compare to practice in other jurisdictions? How does it impact upon maternal and abortion care? What do medical experts in jurisdictions which have adopted human rights compliant abortion law think of our approach?
  • Those who must travel: We must be cautious about proposals for law reform which do little more than take a few dozen women off the plane to England. If the ‘grounds’ for abortion are drawn narrowly, or administered narrowly in ways which undermine women’s rights or reproduce existing fear and stigma, then travel will remain a necessity (and the existing constitutional protections for it must remain in force). The majority of women make their abortion decision very early in pregnancy – if it were not for the many costs associated with travel, we could expect that most Irish women would terminate their pregnancies before 12 weeks. We know that the requirement to travel has profound discriminatory effects, particularly for impoverished women or women living in direct provision. To my mind the danger of expulsion of women through conservative interpretation of any new abortion law is the strongest argument for a legalised period of abortion ‘without grounds’, accessible where the woman requests it, and where it is clear that she is giving informed consent to the procedure. This sort of arrangement is the law in Germany, Hungary,  and in Spain and Portugal – countries with a Catholic heritage whose laws recognise the sanctity of unborn life. Perhaps the best hope – if we insist on running the risk of ‘window dressing’ legislation which changes very little – is that the efforts of campaigners in Northern Ireland will mean that soon, our women won’t have to travel too far. As a first step, the Information Act should be repealed, to enable pregnancy counsellors  and campaigners to do their utmost to assist women in this position.

Proportionality is a difficult measure of legal protection. The key question is: ‘Proportionate to what?’ The legal idea here is that the state is restricting individuals’ agency in order to achieve some broader public goal. Proportionality can only do its work if public goals are defined reasonably. My worry is that, even at this point in Ireland’s recurring abortion debates, the goals of any abortion law have not been fully articulated. Bear in mind that in international fora this state has insisted, for decades now, that the current constitutional settlement reflects the nation’s ‘nuanced’ consensus on the legal protection of unborn life. In the domestic context, political actors hold up the patronising spectre of the conservative rural constituent who is incapable of critical thought (and whose worries just happen to overlap with those of the disproportionately powerful Iona Institute and, on a bad day, Youth Defence).  It may be that, in the abortion debates to come, this stunted incarnation of the public interest will remain in place, and remain the legal measure of women’s rights. In the context of the marriage equality referendum debates, we have seen strong state investment in efforts to transform popular perceptions of gay couples’ proper legal position. Whichever government finds itself in the position of legislating for the 8th, its duty is to lead in articulating new norms of honour, autonomy and support where pregnant women are concerned, or (more accurately) in giving those existing Irish norms space in public discourse.

What's (Still) Wrong with the Symphysiotomy Redress Scheme.

The closing date for applications to the symphysiotomy redress scheme is this Friday.  Assessment has already begun, some redress offers – a very small fraction of the total projected value of the scheme – have already been made and a very small number of those have been accepted. I have written before about the core problem which has dogged this scheme since it was first proposed – it is simply incompatible, in principle, with the requirements of international human rights law. In particular, these women have not been offered any adequate remedy for breaches of their European Convention rights by the Irish state. O’Keeffe v. Ireland confirms that ex gratia redress without an acknowledgement of state liability cannot be considered an adequate remedy. ((See also Romanov v. RussiaYeter v. Turkey))

Since the scheme was announced, less than a month ago, it has been roundly criticised by expert commentators including, most recently, Sir Nigel Rodley of the UNHRC. The devil is in the detail of the implementation. The time limit for application is unconscionable. Women had 20 working days to apply. This is the shortest time limit in the history of any state redress scheme: for example, the Residential Institutions Redress Board time limit was 3 years. The rudimentary progress reports published on the scheme website indicate that 70 women only received their application forms in the first week, because they requested them by telephone. The forms are, of course, available to download from the website, but the survivors of symphysiotomy are often very elderly and may not be computer literate.

Applications made after the deadline may be considered in ‘exceptional circumstances’, but in any case will not be considered if they are made after January 15 2015. ‘Exceptional circumstances’ is not defined within the terms of the scheme. It is worth noting that the same phrase affected the RIRB, and was interpreted in a very conservative fashion, to the particular detriment of applicants who took longer to apply  because they were socially isolated, had intellectual or psychiatric difficulties, or lived abroad. ((See AG v. RIRB [2012] IEHC 492 )) It is beyond doubt that some women who deserve, in principle, to have access to state redress will go without it because the government refuses to give them more time. 70 women have joined Survivors of Symphysiotomy since the UNHRC hearings in July and there may be others.  Two women recently brought a High Court challenge to the scheme because it was not clear that women with dementia could have a representative apply on their behalf.

The Department of Health said yesterday that 257 applications have already been made to the scheme. The progress reports give some indication of what is going on. It is not clear that the scheme can be considered a success. Certainly it is working very quickly. For example, in Week 1, 10 applications were made and 7 of these were assessed and offers made. Everything is moving so quickly, not only because the volume of applications was very low in the beginning, but because assessment is done entirely on paper and payments are not individualised. The sole question for the assessor is whether to put an applicant in one payment band or another, or none at all. There is no hearing, and no finding of liability. Some applications have been rejected, and there is no appeal from the assessor’s decision.

The fact that so many women have made an initial application  does not demonstrate that they are happy with this scheme or that they accept that it offers a better compensation package than they might obtain in court. On November 16, the majority of members of Survivors of Symphysiotomy (S.O.S.) voted overwhelmingly – not for the first time – to reject it. They have no obligation to accept any offer made under the scheme – they may yet withdraw.

The progress reports indicate that ‘a large number’ of the applications already received are awaiting  medical records from hospitals or the preparation of specialist medical reports. This sort of problem was to be expected. Some women, for example, do not have their records because hospitals had levied unaffordable charges to provide them, or had said they were unable to locate them. Access to particular records will make the difference between the minimum award of 50,000 euro and the higher award. Better consultation with Survivors of Symphysiotomy would have made this clear and the scheme could have been designed accordingly. There are about 400 survivors of symphysiotomy known to S.O.S. The women who have not yet made an application may be experiencing related difficulties. How many have the necessary support to travel for medical and legal appointments, gather hospital documentation and so on? It will be very interesting to hear about women’s experiences of compiling and submitting their applications.

The government insisted that most women would already have the necessary documentation available because they have been preparing to sue the relevant hospitals and the state. From the progress reports published, it is clear that this belief was mistaken.  The government envisaged a redress scheme which would be frankly parasitic on the very litigation it purports to protect women from.  Indeed the scheme allows the state to ‘buy’ the results of preparatory work for litigation by providing that solicitors who have already undertaken it will receive some fees and expenses. In a similar vein, the application form also asks applicants to submit copies of all legal pleadings and orders connected with their symphysiotomy.

The 20 day time limit, as the IHREC has noted, makes it very difficult for women to seek independent legal advice before submitting their application, especially if they are starting from scratch. A further 20 day time limit applies once an offer is made under the scheme.  A woman must sign a waiver to accept the offer, in which she agrees to discontinue any legal actions against the state or any of a raft of private parties, and agrees not to pursue any such claims in the future. The waiver is a waiver of constitutional and Convention rights. ((It also, of course, cements the state’s refusal to ensure the possibility of prompt, independent and thorough investigation into the wrong done to these women, by closing off the possibility of private litigation. This was not done in the Magdalene compensation scheme. The waiver is the functional equivalent of an amnesty law, and we know that laws of this kind can be held inconsistent with the duty under the ICCPR to ‘exercise due diligence to prevent, punish, investigate or redress the harm caused by such acts by private persons or entities’; see eg Case of Barrios Altos v. Peru. Judgment of March 14, 2001 ))  As such it is crucial that the woman waives voluntarily and with full understanding of the consequences. The pressurised time limit at play here should, accordingly, be a source of some concern. The initial 20 day time limit is crucial too. If a woman had three years in which to apply to the scheme, she might at least have more time to judge the progress of her civil claim and to weigh the associated risks and benefits against the possibilities of a redress payment. As things stand, the scheme is designed to deny her the opportunity for reasoned comparison. The requirement of acceptance within 20 days, similarly, is designed to kill litigation off at the earliest possible opportunity.

The State is the defendant in many of the upcoming High Court symphysiotomy actions. The first two will be heard early next year. So, when the State says that it is offering this scheme to spare women the burden of litigation, it is doing no more than claiming to protect these women from itself. Noreen Burns died last July while attempting to pursue her claim against Holles Street hospital, having been informed in terms reminiscent of the treatment of the late Brigid McCole, that the hospital would pursue her for costs. The ‘robust’ conduct of the defences in symphysiotomy cases has, so far, done the defendants little credit.

For now, the scheme trundles on. But this is not what proper redress looks like.

Law, disobedience and 'the abortion pill'. #abortionpilltrain

Earlier this week, a small number of women and men re-staged the ‘Contraceptive Train’ of 1971 as an ‘Abortion Pill Train’. A group organised by ROSA, Re(al)-Productive Health, Action for Choice and the Socialist Party travelled to Belfast, where they collected pills ordered from Women on Web and delivered to friends’ addresses in the North.  On return to Connolly Station in Dublin, 10 women took the pills in public, to demonstrate their safety, and explained their actions to the assembled crowd. The video above is by Paula Geraghty, there are some great photographs of the train journey here and video of the protest here. In going to the North, the train mimics a trip frequently undertaken by Irish women. Women on Web do not supply the pills directly to Ireland because the state has become so good at confiscating them. In order to obtain them, you must be able to provide an address in another jurisdiction, typically Northern Ireland, and arrange for them to be collected. No attempt was made to arrest those who travelled on the train, or to seize the pills, and there was no anti-abortion counter-protest.

The Guardian erroneously reported that the train collective had bought their pills from the Marie Stopes clinic, but they are not readily available for purchase in Northern Ireland. As Alliance for Choice remind us, women using them in Northern Ireland do so under the cloud of potential prosecution. Readers may remember that in March 2013 Alliance for Choice highlighted this position by publishing an open letter in which 100 women and men testified that they had used pills to induce an abortion themselves, or had helped someone else to do so.

The pills the train imported are used for early medical abortions. Their use is not a new phenomenon in Ireland. For further details on how they work, see here, here,  here and here.  Buying them is, of course, much cheaper than travelling abroad for a later abortion (though arranging to collect them from a Northern Irish address is not easy for everyone). This matters deeply when we consider how families are affected by the politics of austerity. But the pills are also more accessible precisely because they can be used in most cases without intensive medical supervision, in private. Regulatory regimes for their use vary significantly from jurisdiction to jurisdiction. However, in the UK, BPAS has been campaigning for some time for amendments to the existing abortion legislation to allow women to take them in their own homes rather than travelling repeatedly to a clinic. The majority of women who use pills procured from Women on Web are able to use them safely (see, for example, this story from The Examiner). The earlier they are used, the safer and more effective they are. However, complications are possible in rare cases even when they are used properly (leaving aside the issue of purchase from unscrupulous providers and use of inappropriate drugs). For example a very small minority of women – about 1% – may experience heavy bleeding requiring medical attention. The Ray D’Arcy show on Today FM recently broadcast a letter from a woman who had experienced two weeks of severe bleeding after inducing a miscarriage using misoprostol purchased in a pharmacy. ((Misoprostol is available from pharmacies in Ireland as a medicine for symptoms of rheumatoid arthritis. It is also used in Irish hospitals in the medical management of miscarriage. It can be used to terminate a pregnancy on its own but it is safer to use it with mifepristone, or RU 486. Mifepristone is a steroid which can be used to induce labour after foetal death in utero. Since 2003, special recording obligations  apply to its supply and administration in Ireland, and it is not available in ordinary pharmacies. )) Cases like this one do not demonstrate that the current criminal prohibition on use of the pills is justified. Neither do they show that an intensive regime of scrutiny and surveillance must be established before their use could be legalised in Ireland. Rather they demonstrate the importance of making medical assistance accessible to women in those cases where it becomes necessary. They also show up, yet again, the stress, denial of information, inhibition of access to medical treatment and outright emotional isolation which a regime of criminalisation imposes on women in need of abortions. As Mary Favier of Doctors for Choice has said, stigma means that women often delay visits to the doctor even where an abortion has resulted in complications. To accuse the abortion pill train protestors of ‘dangerous’ behaviour in taking the pills ignores the state-supported structures of stigma and neglect which amplify the very small risks inherent in taking these pills properly.

The abortion pill train is a collection of small illegal or quasi-legal acts which individual Irish women commit on a  regular basis. The protest not only breaks several of the abortion laws, but shows up the spaces in which they are already broken: in which they are porous, not enforced, practically or politically unenforceable, or just about surmountable if you have the resources, the courage, the knowledge and the time.

  • Taking the pills: A woman who is not pregnant and consumes an abortifacient in Ireland commits no offence under the PLDPA 2013.  A pregnant woman successfully using the same pills to successfully terminate her pregnancy might be guilty of the offence of ‘intentional destruction of unborn human life’ under s. 22 of the Act. The heft of this new offence is  difficult to gauge. There is no doubt but that women using Women on Web’s services in Ireland may understand themselves to be staring down the barrel of 14 years in prison. In theory, an individual supplying these pills to a woman for the purposes of ending her pregnancy, or being reckless as to whether she might use them for that purpose, might also come within the scope of inchoate offences (attempt etc) under s.22.  There are significant evidentiary difficulties inherent in applying these sorts of offences to early medical abortion. A prosecution can only be brought at the instance of the DPP, who will not prosecute unless there is sufficient evidence to justify it, and if a prosecution is in the broader public interest.  In the face of suggestions from within his own party that the criminal penalty for this offence be reduced to 5 years, the Minister for Health in debating the Bill suggested that the maximum 14 year prison sentence provided for under the Act was intended for the ‘back street operator who was a recidivist carrying out dangerous procedures on vulnerable persons’ – we might speculate as to whether a woman performing an early medical abortion herself would ever receive such a sentence. That said, cases like those of Ms Y and Ms X demonstrate the risks of a certain kind of zeal in enforcing the letter of the law – we can imagine a woman being prosecuted for using pills for an early medical abortion, or being caught up in another’s prosecution. And that imaginary has its own effects.
  • Importing the pills: Both misoprostol and mifepristone are controlled drugs under the Medical Products Regulations 2003. Pills sent in the post are routinely seized on importation by the HPRA and Revenue and Customs – as noted already this programme of seizures has been effective enough to convince Women on Web to effectively cease direct supply to Ireland. The Revenue’s enforcement officers are empowered under the Customs Consolidation Act and the Irish Medicines Board Act 1995 to detain and ultimately seize and destroy them, just as they are empowered to seize medicines found on your person or in baggage at a border. A prosecution is unlikely to result from seizure of a single package. Bulk importation is another problem. In January 2011, Fang Huang was convicted in the District Court of importing mifepristone from China and supplying it to women from a Parnell St Supermarket. Very little information is available about the prosecution. She was fined €5,000 –  €500 for each of 10 charges. The Irish Medicines Board initiated the prosecution.
  • Advertising Women on Web/informing women on how to use the pills: In theory, speaking about, or advertising, or putting up stickers about Women on Web, or carrying a banner with their web address contravenes the Regulation of Information Act 1995. Offenders are liable to pay a fine of up to IR£1500.  Advertisement and public speaking are not the same as one-to-one counselling, which is much more tightly controlled by s. 5 of the Act. A  sticker or notice advertising Women on Web in a public place clearly breaches s.4 of the Act: in the terms of the legislation, this is acceptable because the passerby has not voluntarily sought the information out. Where the information is given at a public meeting, or in a television broadcast, the law is less clear. Under s.3 of the Act, it is permissible to provide ‘Act information’ in these contexts if two conditions are satisfied. First, the information must relate ‘only to services which are lawfully available in [a particular] place and to persons who, in providing them, are acting lawfully in that place’. The language of the Act pre-dates transnational online services like Women on Web or Women Help Women, which rely on co-operative networks of agents in several jurisdictions. It is difficult to tell how it applies – in what ‘place’ is the service ‘available’ if the pills are ordered online in Ireland, under the remote guidance of a doctor in Austria via a website hosted somewhere else, supplied from India and finally consumed in Ireland with the guidance of a telephone counsellor in the Netherlands? In 2010, Women on Web, responding to a challenge from the Irish government, obtained a ruling that remote supervision of abortion was not illegal in Austria. The second provision is more problematic in the context of the abortion pill train – the information cannot be accompanied by advocacy or promotion of termination of pregnancy. As always, invoking the Act in any kind of public speech context only serves to highlight the impossibility of enforcing it while maintaining the possibility of informed debate about abortion service provision. Again, we have to wonder whether the DPP could find that the public interest is served by prosecuting activists in this sort of case.

Naturally, there are political risks inherent in choosing law-breaking as a method of protest. In pursuing this kind of disobedience, the protest dares the state to act, or highlights the effects of its inaction. (Ruth Coppinger’s action as a TD -the only woman of three TDs who travelled- in taking the train and publicly taking the pill is particularly interesting in this respect.) There is the danger of drawing official attention to the methods which women and networks of activists such as Women on Web use to cope with the prevailing legal regime, of misleading women into thinking that the law is more easily circumvented than is actually the case, or of provoking conservative disapproval and backlash.

There is also still a sense of the scandalous in law-breaking. Some activists expressed discomfort with the choice of date for the protest – the train returned home a few hours before the vigils held to remember the death of Savita Halappanavar in October 2012. My own view is that there must be a place for both vigils and civil disobedience in abortion protest, particularly when we consider the ways in which the Irish law and politics of abortion have manipulated the deaths and suffering of ‘deserving’ women in order to silence ‘improper’ voices. But then, I write that with the comfort of distance.

It is only a little bit surprising to see sharp distinctions drawn between the contraceptive train and the abortion pill train. The action undertaken by 47 women from the IWLM seems comparatively uncontroversial now because the purchase of contraceptives was not illegal in Northern Ireland in 1971,  the IWLM never went as far as to demand abortion access, and in the end (though this was not revealed at the time) those who travelled bought aspirin instead of the contraceptive pill because they did not have prescriptions. Crucially, the train seems so far in the past, and the rightness of the action so obvious in hindsight that it has lost any controversial political bite. Even David Quinn can invoke the condom train now. Perhaps that is why we so readily remember the train, and forget, for example, Women on Waves’ visit to Dublin, or the Sister Ship (just to name transport-themed reproductive rights protests…). The original train was less tame than this public chooses to remember.  It was decades before access to contraception was fully liberalised in Ireland. The women in 1971 knew there would be a moment of confrontation with customs officers when they returned to Connolly, they worried about the possibility of arrest, and they had prepared tactics – including outright mockery of the customs officers – to adopt if they were challenged. June Levine in her memoir Sisters documents that each woman had been issued with a leaflet prepared in advance by Nell McCafferty and Mary Anderson – every woman was to be issued with a pill. They were to  declare their pill to the customs officers and then swallow it. It is instructive to remember that the contraceptive train in 1971 also sparked divisions with the Irish Women’s Liberation Movement. Nuala Fennell, more interested in institutional reform than in protest,  thought it was one in a series of counterproductive stunts ((June Levine, Sisters; Diarmuid Ferriter, Ambiguous Republic)) Mairin de Burca stayed at home to organise the welcome party, because she felt that it would be off-putting for rural women to see single women involved in importing contraceptives. Other single women travelled. ((Ann Stopper, Monday’s at Gaj’s; Mary Kenny, Something of Myself and Others)) On the train on the return journey to Dublin, June Levine writes, a common sentiment was; “Our mothers will kill us!”. ((June Levine, Sisters.)) The women chanted that the law was obsolete, but they also had to negotiate the costs of proving it, and they marched out into Connolly station to the tune of ‘We Shall Overcome’. Perhaps some day, we will see the abortion pill train invoked as the acceptable historical opposite of some new radical act of ‘attention-seeking’.