Caught off guard
Here’s a bit of advice for you; if you ever need to tell someone some bad news, do it when they’re busy. Accidentally broke your mother’s favourite ornament? Tell her when she’s knee-deep in spuds on a Sunday afternoon. Forgot to make reservations for that romantic dinner on the night of your anniversary? Break the news early in the morning when the kids are going demented and there’s burnt toast flying everywhere. Somehow, inexplicably, slept with your best mate’s ex? Let him know at half-time in your local Sunday league match – but only if he’s on the same team as you.
I’ve adhered to this tactic for years now, and it’s never let me down. Sure, the injured party will digest the news eventually, and they’ll come looking for you when they do. But by landing it on them when their plate is already full to overflowing you can minimise the damage. They’re already annoyed, already stressed, one more piece of bad news isn’t going to make things worse. Best of all, when they recall your bombshell later on it won’t have the same negative connotations it would have had if you’d told them when they were feeling all happy and cheerful.
There are other variants on this theme; the old good news, bad news, two-punch combo comes in handy from time to time, and there’s plenty to be said for the ‘I sat on your rabbit and killed it but here’s a lovely bottle of wine to console yourself’ method of confession. But none trump the crafty reveal during a family funeral, that deft disclosure as you head out the door for work, the shockwave carefully administered in the middle of the night when they wake up to go to the toilet. That’s how you get away with things, how you turn potentially fatal nuggets of news into harmless, irrelevant mutterings which will be forgotten about in a day or two.
Yet, as talented a diplomat as I am, I must doff my cap to the true masters, those who make the telling of bad news seem like a fairy tale, one where all the king’s horses and all the king’s men are able to put Humpty back together again. I am, of course, talking about our government. They’re the real heroes here, their exploits make my efforts seem pitiful by comparison. In truth it’s not just our government, all governments do this, find ways to soften bad news, to butter up unsuspecting constituents before ruining their lives with tax hikes, social protection cuts, and arcane property charges.
But ours is uniquely gifted in this regard. It likes to toy with our emotions, play us for fools, beckon us forth with a seductive smile and then kick us in the balls with a nine-inch stiletto. On this occasion it hasn’t been quite that harsh, just a bit devious if anything. It’s simply released an otherwise headline-grabbing legislation into the ether at a time when a similar proposal is hoovering up all the media coverage. While every man and his dog argues over the validity of the Eighth Amendment, whether it needs to be changed, kept as it is, or ripped up completely, the Government gently approved Health Minister, Simon Harris’s Assisted Human Reproduction Bill.
Coincidence? Don’t be so naïve. This was expertly timed, released at such a date as to garner as little attention as possible, so that it can percolate in our preoccupied minds before being made official sometime next year. And that will be no bad thing. Like any country we have thousands of people unable to conceive by natural means, who have either spent small fortunes in pursuit of parenthood or consigned themselves to a life of childlessness. This new Bill will provide State funding for fertility treatment and outline the conditions under which procedures such as surrogacy can be performed. It will also lead to extensive research being undertaken in the field of assisted reproductive technology. In short, it will provide support, both financial and emotional, for those heading down what is often a long and lonely road.
But, as ever, there’s plenty of small print, finer details to make one sit up and take note. Much of these centre round the things that won’t be allowed, the actions deemed illegal under this heavily-regulated legislation. Those found guilty of commercial surrogacy; advertising to seek a surrogate or to act as one; face a €100,000 fine or five years in prison. And if you want to get around that law by heading abroad, to one of the many countries where commercial surrogacy is legal, you won’t be able to request assistance from your local solicitor as they will be prohibited from offering advice on the subject.
It’s clear that Simon Harris wants to avoid the intricate legal issues surrounding the parentage and guardianship of babies born to surrogate mothers, hoping that by putting such punitive measures in place we will avoid the ‘open market’ scenario seen in poorer nations where fertile women are bid upon and traded like something out of The Handmaid’s Tale. But does the Minister really think there’s a proliferation of women out there waiting to hire out their wombs, free of charge? It’s inevitable that people will find ways around this system and that, regardless of Minister Harris’s best intentions, money will change hands and people will be paid to carry someone else’s child, whether in this country or another.
Once that child is born however, it will be passed to its expectant mother and father, the surrogate, having done her job, no longer required. And the same goes for those who donate eggs or sperm. As soon as they make their deposit they surrender all rights to the person who avails of their generosity. It takes a special kind of person to do that, to hand over your essence in the knowledge that it could help create a life, a life that you will never be part of. But an adult can make that decision, can judge how it is likely to impact upon them in years to come, a child can’t.
And this brings us back to our main course; the Eighth Amendment. Is there not a delicious irony in the fact that a Bill depriving a child the right to know where it came from, will be passed just months before we go to the polls to decide on the rights of those who may never be born? It makes you wonder why we’re being asked to vote at all, and whether all this rancour could have been completely avoided. Given that our government is clearly comfortable making decisions like this on our behalf, why not save us all the hassle, not to mention a few million quid, and figure out what to do with the Eighth all by itself. But no, that’d be too much like hard work.
A friend in need is a friend indeed
How many close friends do you have? I mean, really close friends, as in the kind of people you’d trust with your life? Your answer will depend on your age, but if you’ve got any more than a half-dozen consider yourself lucky. Now ask yourself this, how far would you be willing to go to defend their honour? What would it take for you to say, “enough is enough” and cut them loose?
Personally, it would take a lot for me to do that, to end the handful of friendships that I’ve maintained for the best part of twenty years. However, if one of my best friends committed a crime as despicable, as heinous, as that of Tom Humphries, I would struggle to stand up for them, either in a court of law or in a bar-room brawl. But remarkably Humphries has two friends who were willing to defend the indefensible, to make a case for a man who coldly and clinically duped a teenage girl into believing he cared for her, and then assaulted her, stealing both her dignity and her childhood.
However, despite their gross stupidity, I don’t think it’s fair to penalise either David Walsh or Donal Og Cusack for their roles in Humphries’ trial. Both acted within the law and, whether we like it or not, were entitled to provide character references for a person with whom they clearly have a close bond. Cusack has since stepped down from his role within the Clare hurling management team and his position on the board of Sport Ireland, but the feeling is that he jumped before he was pushed. Walsh, for his part, not only continues to write for the Sunday Times, but also remains unequivocal in his support of Humphries. I hope he’s allowed to work unimpeded, but I also hope, for his sake, that he now distances himself from a man who shouldn’t be on anyone’s list of friends.
