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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Just face it, being a parent will never be cool

Traditional parenting terms are being rejected in favour of trendier versions, but it doesn't change the grunt-like nature of the work.

My children call me various things. Mummy. Mum. Poo-Head. One thing they have never called me is mama. This is only to be expected, for I am not cool.

Last year Elisa Strauss reported on the rise of white, middle-class mothers in the US using the term “mama” as “an identity marker, a phrase of distinction, and a way to label the self and designate the group.” Mamas aren’t like mummies or mums (or indeed poo-heads). They’re hip. They’re modern. They’re out there “widen[ing] the horizons of ‘mother,’ without giving up on a mother identity altogether.” And now it’s the turn of the dads.

According to the Daily Beast, the hipster fathers of Brooklyn are asking their children to refer to them as papa. According to one of those interviewed, Justin Underwood, the word “dad” is simply too “bland and drab”:

“There’s no excitement to it, and I feel like the word papa nowadays has so many meanings. We live in an age when fathers are more in touch with their feminine sides and are all right with playing dress-up and putting on makeup with their daughters.”

Underwood describes “dad” as antiquated, whereas “papa” is an “open-minded, liberal term, like dad with a twist” (but evidently not a twist so far that one might consider putting on makeup with one’s sons).

Each to their own, I suppose. Personally I always associate the word “papa” with “Smurf” or “Lazarou.” It does not sound particularly hip to me. Similarly “mama” is a word I cannot hear without thinking of “Bohemian Rhapsody”, hence never without a follow-up “ooo-oo-oo-ooh!” Then again, as a mummy I probably have no idea what I am talking about. If other people think these words are trendy, no doubt they are.

Nonetheless, I am dubious about the potential of such words to transform parenting relationships and identities. In 1975’s Of Woman Born, Adrienne Rich describes how she used to look at her own mother and think “I too shall marry, have children – but not like her. I shall find a way of doing it all differently.” It is, I think, a common sentiment. Rejecting mummy or daddy as an identity, if not as an individual, can feel much the same as rejecting the politics that surrounds gender and parenting. The papas interviewed by The Daily Beast are self-styled feminists, whose hands-on parenting style they wish to differentiate from that of their own fathers. But does a change of title really do that? And even if it does, isn’t this a rather individualistic approach to social change?

There is a part of me that can’t help wondering whether the growing popularity of mama and papa amongst privileged social groups reflects a current preference for changing titles rather than social realities, especially as far as gendered labour is concerned. When I’m changing a nappy, it doesn’t matter at all whether I’m known as Mummy, Mama or God Almighty. I’m still up to my elbows in shit (yes, my baby son is that prolific).

The desire to be known as Papa or Mama lays bare the delusions of new parents. It doesn’t even matter if these titles are cool now. They won’t be soon enough because they’ll be associated with people who do parenting. Because like it or not, parenting is not an identity. It is not something you are, but a position you occupy and a job you do.

I once considered not being called mummy. My partner and I did, briefly, look at the “just get your children to call you by your actual name” approach. On paper it seemed to make sense. If to my sons I am Victoria rather than mummy, then surely they’ll see me as an individual, right? Ha. In practice it felt cold, as though I was trying to set some kind of arbitrary distance between us. And perhaps, as far as my sons are concerned, I shouldn’t be just another person. It is my fault they came into this vale of tears. I owe them, if not anyone else, some degree of non-personhood, a willingness to do things for them that I would not do for others. What I am to them – mummy, mum, mama, whatever one calls it – is not a thing that can be rebranded. It will never be cool because the grunt work of caring never is.

It is not that I do not think we need to change the way in which we parent, but this cannot be achieved by hipster trendsetting alone. Changing how we parent involves changing our most fundamental assumptions about what care work is and how we value the people who do it. And this is change that needs to include all people, even those who go by the old-fashioned titles of mum and dad.

Ultimately, any attempt to remarket parenting as a cool identity smacks of that desperate craving for reinvention that having children instils in a person. The moment you have children you have bumped yourself up the generational ladder. You are no longer the end of your family line. You are – god forbid – at risk of turning into your own parents, the ones who fuck you up, no matter what they do. But you, too, will fuck them up, regardless of whether you do it under the name of daddy, dad or papa. Accept it. Move on (also, you are mortal. Get over it).

Parenting will never be cool. Indeed, humanity will never be cool. We’re all going to get older, more decrepit, closer to death. This is true regardless of whether you do or don’t have kids – but if you do you will always have younger people on hand to remind you of this miserable fact.

Your children might, if you are lucky, grow to respect you, but as far as they are concerned you are the past.  No amount of rebranding is going to solve that. This doesn’t mean we can’t change the way we parent. But as with so much else where gender is concerned, it’s a matter for boring old deeds, not fashionable words.

 

 

 

Glosswitch is a feminist mother of three who works in publishing.