Racism exists here, too, and it’s a stain on our national character
ELEVEN days ago, George Floyd was approached on a Minneapolis street by four policemen who arrested him on suspicion of passing a counterfeit $20 bill at a shop. One of them, Derek Chauvin, knelt on Floyd’s neck for a full nine minutes, despite Floyd’s repeated cries that he couldn’t breathe. At 59 years of age, he was heard asking for his Mama, but by the time paramedics reached him, he was dead from asphyxia.
All four police officers now have been fired. Chauvin has been indicted on a charge of second-degree murder, while his three colleagues face lesser but still serious charges.
Widely shared footage of the incident has led to protests and riots in the US every day since, with president Donald Trump fanning the flames of division rather than attempting to heal the deep fissures in US society.
The wider world is horrified by all this. Demonstrations have taken place everywhere from Brazil to New Zealand. Here, thousands marched in Dublin and convened outside the US embassy in Ballsbridge. It is easy to understand their zeal, because the video made it seem more tangible and real than literally thousands of other such cases over the course of decades. Police brutality against black Americans is nothing new, and even a black president made little headway in changing the insidious conditions that prompt it. So while I have a great deal in common with those who took to Dublin’s streets, I’m also angry with them, for two reasons.
Breach
The first is the obvious breach of the Covid-19 lockdown ban on large gatherings. Many wore masks but many did not, and while they were spaced well apart during the march, at the embassy there was no evidence of social distancing. At a time when families are longing to be reunited, it felt like a slap in the face. No matter how much merit there was in the cause, there was no justification for such a blatant disregard for public health here at home.
What was more troubling was the second reason for my ire. Where have these people been when it comes to protesting against racism on our own doorstep? People often tell me, in all seriousness, that Ireland is not racist. Funny, that, because this time last year, a direct provision centre opened in the Courtown Hotel not far from where I live. On Facebook, there was febrile activity. In one group, the stark warning was that children would be raped. One woman who spotted the new arrivals simply posted: ‘It makes me sick looking at them.’ Looking at them. It took my breath away, because if that isn’t racism at its most naked, most ignorant and most abhorrent, then I don’t know what is. It highlighted a fundamental problem. Understanding requires education, but bias comes naturally, and we have not done very much at all to educate people on direct provision.
It is, whether we like it or not, a stain on our national character, an affront to the decency on which we, often smugly, pride ourselves. We are, though, very slow to realise the mistakes we made, only for scandal to envelop us decades later – think mother and baby homes, false adoptions, and the sexual abuse of children by those in authority. At present, there are 7,700 people dependent on the International Protection Accommodation Service. They live in dedicated direct provision centres, in hotels acquired for the purpose, in B&Bs and in isolation centres because of the Covid-19 crisis.
When the case numbers started to rise back in March, many were moved from Dublin without first being tested. One such group found themselves in the Skellig Star Hotel in Cahirciveen in Co. Kerry, where more than 20 later tested positive for the virus.
Locals, understandably perturbed (and, it must be said, in a majority of cases expressing concern for the people in the centre rather than a knee-jerk fear of strangers) were addressed directly by Justice Minister Charlie Flanagan. In an open letter in The Kerryman newspaper, he apologised to them for the fact that the centre was opened so readily and without consultation. Only the next morning, when interviewed on RTÉ Radio 1, did he apologise to the residents of the hotel, even though they were the ones living in close proximity who effectively had been exposed to a grave threat to their very lives.
When direct provision was started in 2000, it was envisaged that people would clear the system within six months. Instead, many lived in those conditions for years before their applications for asylum were granted. They receive €38.80 a week to spend as they see fit, with a further €29.80 per child, and this is often bandied about by opponents as proof they’re on some sort of gravy train.
Staggeringly, Taoiseach Leo Varadkar, when challenged yesterday after he condemned the lack of leadership in the US following George Floyd’s killing, appeared to reiterate this. ‘Direct provision ultimately is a service offered by the State,’ he said. ‘It is not compulsory and it is not a form of detention. It is a service provided by the State and they are provided with free accommodation, food, heat, light, healthcare and education, and also some spending money. It is not the same thing as a man being killed by the police.’
Rotten
Now, call me old-fashioned, but ‘not the same thing as a man being killed by the police’ is a very low foothold on the moral mountain. He also said he did not believe the direct provision system fuelled racism. Well, I point you back to the Facebook groups I was reading a year ago; I can assure him it does.
There are many in direct provision who want to play their part – three Albanians in my local centre have been making PPE for frontline staff for weeks now.
So, yes, march for George Floyd when conditions are right – but maybe march, too, against the injustice of shifting older people from hospitals to care homes with the consequent tragedy we have witnessed. Maybe march against the entire rotten direct provision system, rather than allowing all the protests to be stoked by the far right.
And maybe, above all, expect our Taoiseach to show the very leadership he calls for across the Atlantic, rather than pretending our policies somehow are less shameful because we’re only holding people, especially children, back from realising their potential, and not holding them down by the neck.