This Article is From May 24, 2015

3 Decades After Galvanizing Hate Crime, Ireland's Gays Hail Vote

3 Decades After Galvanizing Hate Crime, Ireland's Gays Hail Vote

File Photo: Gay marriage supporters. (Reuters Photo)

Dublin, Ireland: Many of the young voters so pivotal to the successful campaign to legalize same-sex marriage in Ireland were not even born when the country's version of New York's Stonewall Riots occurred. In 1982, Declan Flynn, a 31-year-old homosexual, was kicked and beaten to death with sticks by a gang of four youths in Fairview Park in Dublin's north inner city.

His assailants admitted they had attacked him because they had been "queer bashing." The leniency of their sentences - between one and five years, all suspended - was the catalyst for the first widespread demonstration for gay rights.

More than 30 years later, the heinous crime that produced a movement also led to a singular distinction for Ireland: It became the only country to legalize same-sex marriage by popular vote.

Ireland's paradigm shift from quasi theocracy to gay rights beacon has not happened by accident. It is the result of a calculated campaign for equality by gay activists and the coincidental decline of the Roman Catholic Church.

"Commentators just don't seem to have grasped that this has been the culmination of a 10-year campaign to change attitudes in this country," said Colm O'Gorman, chief executive of Amnesty International-Ireland and a leading gay rights campaigner.

"We stuck to our single message that this was about equality. We were determined not to get involved in vitriol or mudslinging and that this campaign would be joyful and positive."

O'Gorman also said that the series of clerical pedophile scandals hastened the end of the Catholic Church hegemony over social affairs.

"There is no doubt the political and moral authority of the church was fatally undermined and this had a huge impact: It no longer had the sense of entitlement to direct people how to think and act."

The veteran gay rights campaigner David Norris remembers Declan Flynn as a "shy, decent young man." He recalls the crime and how the revulsion it engendered was compounded by the judge's refusal to jail the four, who ranged in age from 14 to 19.

Afterward, about 900 people marched to the park to protest the crime and the sentence. Some 33 years later, Norris, who is now a government senator, was at Dublin Castle along with thousands of others celebrating Ireland's transformation.

It took 16 years of legal battles before Norris ultimately succeeded in decriminalizing homosexuality in 1993, and only after the Irish government had been dragged before the European Court of Human Rights.

The next major step toward the successful referendum came in 2003 when a lesbian couple, Catherine Zappone and her partner, Ann Louise Gilligan, began a legal action to force the state to recognize the marriage vows they had taken three years earlier in Canada. Despite legal reversals, the case galvanized support for same-sex marriage, putting it on the agenda for the first time.

"Initially, we were a small determined group, but we grew to be a large determined group," O'Gorman said.

In Dublin Castle on Saturday, Zappone and Gilligan were met with rousing cheers. Zappone said the result had robbed the couple of their day in court, but it was a loss they were more than happy to bear.

"People say it has happened in such a short time, but it feels like forever," she said. "We would have loved to have been vindicated by the Irish Supreme Court, but this win has been even sweeter, no doubt about that - I'd have settled for this any day."

After weeks of speculation about a "silent no" vote, the size of the eventual margin - nearly 2 to 1 - took even the most optimistic yes supporters by surprise. After the surprising election results in Britain this month, few people trusted opinion polls that showed 70 to 30 in favor.

"Our door-to-door canvasses were reflecting the polls, so we were hopeful of their accuracy, and we were also confident about the existence of a 'silent yes' too, which had gone unreported," said Brian Sheehan, co-director of the Yes Equality campaign who coordinated the strategic drive for constitutional change.

Yes Equality ran a campaign of military precision. They set up a network of support groups around the country, combining a grass-roots movement with the latest social media techniques to turn the once implausible into a landslide.

A registration drive brought in more than 100,000 new voters since November, tens of thousands of doors were knocked on, extensive leafleting campaigns took place and posters were ubiquitous.

A series of powerful, emotional videos went viral and helped bridge a perceived gap between generations.

"We also married online with offline, using campaigns such as 'go ask your granny' to vote, which really did work when it came to engagement," Sheehan said. "Above all, we knew we needed to engage straight people, too, with a message that was about hope, tolerance, fairness and the kind of Ireland they and their children would want to live in."

In 2012, the government set up the Constitutional Convention to recommend changes designed to bring the 1937 constitution more up to date. Yes Equality lobbied hard for a specific amendment on same-sex marriage.

When the official result was announced, there were tears of joy and sadness at Dublin Castle. Many noted the absence of men like Declan Flynn and so many others who could not be there to see the day.
 
© 2015, The New York Times News Service
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