Over 100,000 Irish citizens protested against proposed water changes. Photo: Peter Muhly/AFP/Getty
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How water became everything in Ireland

Patience with austerity has run out, and Irish people are pushing back against the Irish Water debacle.

Ireland is feeling emotional. After six years of benign cooperation with a tough austerity regime, one subject became a tipping point late last year. That issue? Water.

Last November – receiving meagre attention in the UK – over 100,000 Irish citizens marched through the streets of their towns and cities, protesting against proposed water charges. “Enough is enough,” was the message delivered with aplomb. “We can’t pay any more.”

Just a few months earlier, an ironically portentous article had appeared on the Guardian. “Why has the Irish response to the financial crisis been so peaceful?”, the subheading asked. It then attempted to find answers: because we feel partially to blame for the crisis, because we remember violence and don’t want it repeated, because so many young people emigrated.

As it turned out, Irish people had been quite angry for some time – and not with themselves, but with bankers, financial regulators and policymakers.

Since 2009, almost half a million people have left the country. Public services have been cut across the board, with the introduction of a variety of additional taxes including the Universal Social Charge (payable on incomes over just €4,004 in 2011) and the new Local Property Tax, payable on all residential properties since 2013.

New semi-state Irish Water – an epic PR disaster from start to finish – will be remembered as the straw that finally broke the camel’s back.

On reflection, it is hard to believe that Irish Water wasn’t specifically designed with the intention of mobilising the Irish population. Part of the EU-IMF bailout agreement, it landed – with a thud – on public consciousness last January, when its chief executive admitted that it had already spent €50m on consultants.

This was followed by a controversy involving the organisation’s collection of PPS digits (akin to National Insurance numbers) and outrage over a proposed bonus scheme structure for its employees.

The main issue though, was that no one was clear exactly how much they would have to pay. Indeed, the pricing model has changed so often that the Irish Times’ long-suffering consumer affairs correspondent has produced five Q&As – and counting – on the topic so far.

In a sudden manner reminiscent of the 2011 London riots, it all came to a head on a day in mid-November. Surrounded by angry protesters, Tánaiste (Deputy Prime Minister) Joan Burton found herself trapped in a car in Jobstown, Dublin for almost three hours. She described the events nervously as having “parallels with fascism”.

Perhaps if the whole situation hadn’t been handled so shambolically, more people would have been willing to pay the charges. The original plan to charge separately for each adult household member appeared nonsensical and money-grabbing. And the costs were to affect everyone – including the most vulnerable – at a time when the economy was finally on an upwards slope.

The “conservation” argument used by the government has also become redundant. Although the installation of water meters was to be completed by January, half a million are yet to be installed. The necessary flat rates – guaranteed until 2019 – mean that it will now generally be far cheaper to pay them than to use your meter (if you have even one yet).

Of course, it’s worth noting that in the majority of European countries – including the UK since Thatcher – water is a paid-for service. After November’s nationwide protests, the Irish government backtracked to the point where Ireland’s charges will now be some of the lowest in Europe, at €160 for a two-adult household (factoring in a “water conservation grant” for pre-registering).

But regardless of how far rates have been slashed, a level of hostility towards Irish Water as an organisation is likely to remain. There are suspicions it will eventually be fully privatised, although this government has vowed that will “never” happen and that it would necessitate a referendum.

Water, essential to life, is a highly emotive issue and should have been handled with far greater care. One need only look to bankrupt Detroit, where water supplies have been disconnected in their thousands, to see why the Irish nation might be nervous of paying directly for the privilege.

Ultimately though, the Irish Water debacle has been a lesson in two major areas: first, in how not to set up a commercial semi-state company. The second, and more positive, is in the very real power of the people to influence policy. While the long-term political effects will not be seen until the 2016 election, one fact remains clear: the Irish may be used to enduring hardship, but push them far enough and they will always fight back.

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The government must demand that Iran release Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe

Iran's imprisonment of my constituent breaches the Convention on the Rights of the Child.

I grew up with a very paranoid mother. She had tragically lost members of her family as a teenager and, as a result, she is extremely fearful when it came to her children. I used to laugh at her growing up – I indulged it but often scoffed at her constant need to hear from us.

A few days ago, I was in Parliament as normal. My husband, his parents and our baby daughter were all in Parliament. This rare occasion had come about due to my mother in law’s birthday – I thought it would be a treat for her to lunch in the Mother of Parliaments!

The division bells rang half way through our meal and I left them to vote, grabbing my phone of the table. “See you in ten minutes!” I told them. I didn’t see them for more than five hours.

The minute the doors bolted and the Deputy Speaker announced that we were indefinitely being kept safe in the chamber, all I could think about was my daughter. In my heart of hearts, I knew she was safe. She was surrounded by people who loved her and would protect her even more ferociously than I ever could.

But try explaining that to a paranoid mother. Those five hours felt like an eternity. In my head, I imagined she was crying for me and that I couldn’t be there for her while the building we were in was under attack. In reality, I later found out she had been happily singing Twinkle Twinkle little star and showing off her latest crawl.

That sense of helplessness and desperate impatience is hard to describe. I counted down the minutes until I could see her, as my imagination ran away with me. In those 5 hours, I started thinking more and more about my constituent Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe.

Here I was, temporarily locked in the Parliamentary chamber, surrounded by friends and colleagues and door keepers who were doing all they could to keep me safe. I knew I was going to be let out eventually and that I would be reunited with my daughter and husband within hours.

Nazanin has been detained in the notorious Evin prison in Iran for nearly a year. She only gets an occasional supervised visit with her two-year-old daughter Gabriella. She’s missed Christmas with Gabriella, she missed Gabriella’s second birthday and no doubt she will be missing Mother’s Day with Gabriella.

But it’s not just the big occasions, it’s the everyday developments when Gabriella learns a new song, discovers a new story, makes a new friend. Those are the important milestones that my mother never missed with me and the ones I want to make sure I don’t miss with my daughter.

Unfortunately, Nazanin is just one of many examples to choose from. Globally there are more than half a million women in prison serving a sentence following conviction, or are awaiting trial. Many of these women are mothers who have been separated from their children for years.

In 2010, the United Nations General Assembly unanimously adopted the Bangkok Rules - the first international instrument to explicitly address the different needs that female prisoners have. It was also the first instrument to outline safeguards for the children of imprisoned mothers.

The Bangkok Rules apply to all women prisoners throughout all stages of the criminal justice system, including before sentencing and after release. However, Nazanin’s case has seen a wilful flouting of the rules at each and every stage.

Rule 23 states that ‘Disciplinary sanctions for women prisoners shall not include a prohibition of family contact, especially with children’. Tell that to her daughter, Gabriella, who has barely seen her mother for the best part of a year.

Rule 26 adds that women prisoners’ contact with their families shall be facilitated by all reasonable means, especially for those detained in prisons located far from their homes. Tell that to her husband, Richard, who in almost a year has only spoken to his wife via a few calls monitored by the Iranian Revolutionary Guard.

Iran has ratified the Convention on the Rights of the Child and supported the Bangkok Rules, yet it is breaching both with its treatment of Nazanin. It is therefore incumbent upon our government to take the formal step of calling for Nazanin's release - it is staggering they have not yet done so.

As I pass the window displays in shops for Mother’s Day, most of the cards have messages centred around ‘making your mother happy’. If there’s one mother I’d like to make happy this year, it’s Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe.

Tulip Siddiq is Labour MP for Hampstead and Kilburn