Ninety-nine random strangers, a North Dublin hotel and a lot of cups of tea and coffee – not exactly the stuff of political revolution.
Yet little more than a year later, it appears that an unlikely assemblage of housewives, students, ex-teachers, truck drivers and others has brought Ireland to the brink of radical change to its abortion laws.
They met as a Citizens’ Assembly at the end of 2016, a mix of pro-lifers, pro-choicers and undecideds whose views broadly reflected opinions in the wider Irish population.
In all, it took five weekends. But at the end of it, they voted for change. In doing so, they did not just pave the way for an abortion referendum in May, details of which were announced today. They showed the world what democrats can do with a little imagination.
In a world in which democracy desperately needs revitalisation and new ideas, innovators point to Ireland. They see the move to randomly select a jury to thrash out the issue before a public vote as a breakthrough moment.
“Many people were concerned this would be a can-kicking exercise; that proved not to be the case,” says Colm O’Gorman, the executive director of Amnesty International Ireland.
A referendum was scarcely imaginable when the idea of an assembly was first mooted in 2016.
Back then, few politicians dared even raise the subject of a public vote, let alone voice support for abortion rights. To do so risked electoral oblivion, or so the conventional logic went. As a result, Irish women faced the perpetuation of some of Europe’s most restrictive abortion laws, under which at least 170,000 women travelled abroad for abortions in the years since 1980, mainly to England and often in secret.
The citizens’ assembly helped break the deadlock.
“I think this issue, in Ireland, could never have gotten to the point we’re at today, were it not for the citizens’ assembly,” says Fine Gael’s deputy, Kate O’Connell. “I think we would have been years getting there, if we ever got there.”
During five weekends of meetings over five months, much of it broadcast live on the internet, the jury of 99 citizens broke open taboos around sex and women’s reproductive health. Passionate speeches in favour of and against liberalising abortion laws were heard, including from medical, legal and ethical experts. They also witnessed audio testimonies by women who had faced crisis pregnancies.
O’Connell has her own story of a crisis pregnancy. She faced the prospect of having to abort her 20-week foetus due to a potentially fatal abnormality, an illegal act in Ireland. After tests, and consulting with medics among friends and family, the pharmacist carried her pregnancy to term. Her child, a now healthy boy, will turn eight in September. Many Irish women would have struggled to find the advice she got.
“There is huge value in people telling their stories,” O’Connell says despite the sometimes brutal responses she and others have endured by going public.
A majority of assembly members ultimately recommended amending the Irish constitution to allow lawmakers to address the issue of abortion access. Almost two-thirds also recommended legalising abortion without restriction up to certain gestation limits. An all-party parliamentary committee charged with considering the work of the citizens’ assembly subsequently recommended legal abortion without restriction up to 12 weeks of pregnancy.
Proponents of citizens’ assemblies highlight their use of random selection to create representative samples of any given society. That contrasts with narrower, more elite gatherings of elected representatives. Supporters also vaunt the deliberative process that is cultivated, with members responding to what is presented and listening to others’ responses. That diversity of views, so often missing in elected parliaments, helps deepen collective understanding. Participants feel less pressure as there are no elections, and this in turn improves the quality of their decisions.
In Ireland’s case, voters can access all the assembly submissions and recommendations before casting their ballots next May.
Assembly participants certainly seem delighted to have taken part. Of more than half a dozen consulted, chosen from those who agreed to speak to the media, all were hugely positive.
“I’m almost sad it’s coming to an end. It’s been a life-changing experience for me,” said Liz Connell Jones, 63, a retired teacher and mother-of-two from Wexford, southeast Ireland.
She doubted she would have ever considered abortion herself but was pleased the assembly recommended reform. “I look back to my mother’s generation, my mother had 11 children, she never had a choice. She didn’t want to have 11 children, she even said it wasn’t right that women had to have children as they did.”
While Ireland prepares for its referendum, and likely a rancorous campaign, others look to what is already won. For Oliver Escobar, a lecturer in public policy at Edinburgh University and the co-director of What Works Scotland, Ireland’s effort was singular and significant.
“It’s quite a milestone in the field of democratic innovations. This is the first time this has been part of everyday politics,” he says. Elements of representative, deliberative and direct democracy came together via parliament, the citizens’ assembly and referendum.
“When these things are combined, you have a democratic system that’s more powerful.”
You can view a short documentary about the Irish citizens’ assembly by following this link. Patrick Chalmers will discuss the assembly at events in Edinburgh and Glasgow this week.
This article is part of a series on possible solutions to some of the world’s most stubborn problems. What else should we cover? Email us at theupside@theguardian.com
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