MARY CARR
THE online war over abortion claimed its first prize exactly a month ago when Fine Gael’s Barry Walsh resigned from his party’s National Executive. The Pro-Life activist with a propensity for tweeting insults about leading female politicians, particularly those he considers Pro-Choice, came a cropper after Kate O’Connell took exception to being called a ‘bitch’, and brought him to the attention of the party hierarchy.
Walsh stepped down amid a self-pitying howl about ‘trial by media’ , set his Twitter to private and the febrile atmosphere of the twittersphere was one cruel and misogynistic contributor less.
If only cleaning up the internet was that simple. Unlike most keyboard warriors who spill random taunts and extremist nonsense on Facebook and Twitter, Walsh had something to lose – a coveted place at his party’s top table – because of his online activity.
But his case is still a harbinger of the vicious hysteria and hate-mongering we may expect from Pro-Life and ProChoice zealots now that the Oireachtas committee on the Eighth Amendment has made its report.
The battle to sway the middle ground may not cause the internet to explode in flames until the Taoiseach confirms a referendum date.
But its power to amplify fringe opinion, to spread spiteful rumour and half-truths, to create hate figures out of mere buffoons may be one of the defining characteristics of the next referendum.
The role of the internet in the Brexit vote and in President Trump’s election has been scrutinised for evidence of outside influence by hostile powers or big business. Billionaire George Soros’s controversial funding of Amnesty’s curious crusade to Repeal the Eighth may be a red flag for foreign interference here.
What’s more likely, however, is that the social media platforms available to everyone with an axe to grind will reduce the bitter divisiveness of the 1983 amendment to child’s play.
Back then, aside from the admittedly influential pulpit, the crude art of proselytising was restricted to media debates, protest marches or vigils at the GPO in Dublin, where a small army of eccentric evangelists dispersed blood-curdling images of aborted foetuses and rosary beads.
But throw the internet into the mix and it’s like the Wild West.
Another feature of this referendum is the reversal of the rival sides’ authority.
In the 80s the Pro-Life campaign commanded the moral high ground. The nauseating sanctimony of its leading lights made its weaker adversaries seem like beacons of reason and tolerance.
Today it’s the champions of Repeal who display a self-righteous rigid morality.
The backlash against Mattie McGrath’s crass comment about the fat lady singing shows the eagerness of the PC police to stamp out any loose talk.
The holier-than-thou chorus of condemnation cast McGrath as a misunderstood underdog, not an altogether unfavourable billing in a deeply divisive debate.
Both he and Ronán Mullen perhaps intentionally cut forlorn figures during the Dáil hearings. Their air of persecution might win them the pity, if not the favour, of voters. On top of that the committee’s recommendation of unrestricted abortion up to 12 weeks is a departure from the ‘exceptional cases’ that enjoy the support of moderate opinion.
The Pro-Life campaign will seek to persuade voters that this is effectively abortion on demand while the Repealers will frame it as a human right.
The clash of values is as emotive as ever, but it’s wishful thinking to assume that this time it will be resolved by dispassionate medical and legal evidence.
It’s more likely that the case for and against is made through glib soundbites, death threats, nastiness and sniffy condescension, especially in the vast echo chamber of the web.