A child is born. God Bless the Child. And give the child rights, under the constitution. And watch as some very primitive forces rear their ugly heads in opposition, in defence of the constitutionally-protected, near-sanctified entity, the Irish Family.

Once the rights of a child are taken seriously, given constitutional protection, and backed up with well-resourced advocates, then, by extension, the rights of non-children do become less absolute. In particular, the behaviour and motives of heterosexual couples, parents, will go under the spotlight, as never before.
Gay and lesbian couples nearly always have to go through a process of conscious deliberation and planning to become parents; pregnancy is rarely an accident. Often, they have to endure a rigorous process of third-party scrutiny and evaluation, if Artificial Insemination by donor or adoption is the chosen route to parenthood. Whatever issues children raised by same-sex couples have, (and no upbringing is perfect, it just has to be good enough), one of the most pernicious, that of being/feeling unwanted, is rarely visited upon them.
Those who have children by more traditional means bathe in a near-mystical glow of legal protection in Ireland, as if the act of heterosexual sex were somehow magical and sacred. One only has to have grown up gay in a society where homosexual sex was criminal, and considered to be evidence of a grave moral and psychiatric disorder, to experience first-hand the preposterously privileged position that heterosexual sex holds in our culture. If the sex results in pregnancy, the actors involved in those occasions are, automatically, deemed to be responsible parents, and nothing else is required of them, until the progeny is sent to school by the age of six. (For of course, all Irish pregnancies go full-term, God willing).
Usually, most young parents have lots of advice and support from extended family and friends. But, legally, heterosexuals are granted the most extraordinary licence to exercise one of society’s most important responsibilities, that of raising children, without ever having to learn the basics of parenting, without ever having to prove that they are responsible or capable enough.
Now I understand why a “driving test” for heterosexual would-be parents to test their parenting skills would meet with outrage, but it’s what we put would-be adoptive parents through, and rightly so. If we are truly interested in upholding the rights of a child to a good enough upbringing, we are going to have to ask ourselves some very awkward questions.
The problem with grossly dysfunctional families is that they are usually fiercely loyal to each other, no matter how cruel and abusive the circumstances have been for them growing up; because family is all they have, and all they know. By the time social workers have been brought in to deal with traumatised and/or violent children, it is too late, the lessons will have to wait till the next generation. In such situations, it really is up to the education system to begin the process of healing; it’s why remedial teachers are so vital in preventing social exclusion, and halting the rot.
Ideally, parenting skills should be taught at school, before kids become parents. To begin with, from a psychotherapeutic perspective, I’d be happy enough if 12/13 year-old kids were encouraged to watch programmes such as Supernanny (or, a poor second choice, its less in-depth American show, Nanny 911) and to discuss them afterwards in class. It’s not rocket science, good parenting, but unfortunately if you’re stuck in bad parenting patterns, you’re often the last to know it, and the kids can get blamed and scapegoated.
There is no perfect solution to the problem of children being brought up in abusive, poor or unhealthy environments, because once the state begins to take an interest in how children are being raised at home, where it matters, then the agents of the state wield enormous, invasive power, that can destroy families, besmirch reputations, and cause immeasurable grief and distress to those for whom the measures are designed to protect – the children themselves.
Once a family attracts attention from children’s rights workers, I can’t imagine that the procedure for the family to clear their name would be anything but harrowing, intrusive and humiliating, involving psychological assessments of everyone involved. All it takes is one angry teenager to tell a tall tale to a social worker, and months of frightening investigations could be set in motion.
The notion of the sanctity of family life is still powerful in 21st Century Ireland – the current children’s minister Brian Lenihan, when asked recently about research undertaken into teenage perspectives on the age of consent, admitted that the Netherlands had admirably low levels of adolescent pregnancies and sexually transmitted diseases. Disgracefully, however, he shied away from saying that we should follow their example, because the Dutch health and sex education model involves frank and non-judgmental discussion about sex. Lenihan murmured something about how important Irish tradition was in these matters, about respecting the rights of parents – in other words, he is willing to sacrifice the sexual and emotional health of children at the altar of the Irish family, because the one thing that children need most – information – is denied them.
It’s over 50 years since Noel Browne’s Mother and Child scheme bit the dust, a modest enough proposal to ensure that Ireland’s notoriously high infant mortality rates were tackled, through free medical care and health education. The combined forces of the Irish medical profession and the Catholic hierarchy worked to ensure that the measure was defeated. The state could not be seen to interfere/meddle with the constitutionally protected family unit.
The same argument still holds sway today, at least in Brian Lenihan’s mind. I doubt that this government will have the balls to come up with a meaningful amendment to the constitution, that guarantees the health and wellbeing of children. If it does, then I will be happy to vote for it, and watch with interest as the ripples spread through society. Ultimately, it will be a good thing – but there will, along the way, be a lot of tears before bedtime.
It is odd that Christianity’s Holy Family started without sex. Perhaps that’s been the problem all along. But it’s not the child’s fault. He didn’t turn out so bad in the end.
Have a good Christmas.