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Grayson Perry: The rise and fall of Default Man

How did the straight, white, middle-class Default Man take control of our society – and how can he be dethroned?

Attack of the clones: Default Man is so entrenched in society that he is “like a Death Star hiding behind the moon”. Artwork by Grayson Perry

Grayson Perry's guest-edited issue of the New Statesman is on sale on Thursday 9 October. Visit newstatesman.com/subscribe to get a copy

Paddle your canoe up the River Thames and you will come round the bend and see a forest of huge totems jutting into the sky. Great shiny monoliths in various phallic shapes, they are the wondrous cultural artefacts of a remarkable tribe. We all know someone from this powerful tribe but we very rarely, if ever, ascribe their power to the fact that they have a particular tribal identity.

I think this tribe, a small minority of our native population, needs closer examination. In the UK, its members probably make up about 10 per cent of the population (see infographic below); globally, probably less than 1 per cent. In a phrase used more often in association with Operation Yewtree, they are among us and hide in plain sight.

They dominate the upper echelons of our society, imposing, unconsciously or otherwise, their values and preferences on the rest of the population. With their colourful textile phalluses hanging round their necks, they make up an overwhelming majority in government, in boardrooms and also in the media.

They are, of course, white, middle-class, heterosexual men, usually middle-aged. And every component of that description has historically played a part in making this tribe a group that punches far, far above its weight. I have struggled to find a name for this identity that will trip off the tongue, or that doesn’t clutter the page with unpronounceable acronyms such as WMCMAHM. “The White Blob” was a strong contender but in the end I opted to call him Default Man. I like the word “default”, for not only does it mean “the result of not making an active choice”, but two of its synonyms are “failure to pay” and “evasion”, which seems incredibly appropriate, considering the group I wish to talk about.

Today, in politically correct 21st-century Britain, you might think things would have changed but somehow the Great White Male has thrived and continues to colonise the high-status, high-earning, high-power roles (93 per cent of executive directors in the UK are white men; 77 per cent of parliament is male). The Great White Male’s combination of good education, manners, charm, confidence and sexual attractiveness (or “money”, as I like to call it) means he has a strong grip on the keys to power. Of course, the main reason he has those qualities in the first place is what he is, not what he has achieved. John Scalzi, in his blog Whatever, thought that being a straight white male was like playing the computer game called Life with the difficulty setting on “Easy”. If you are a Default Man you look like power.

I must confess that I qualify in many ways to be a Default Man myself but I feel that by coming from a working-class background and being an artist and a transvestite, I have enough cultural distance from the towers of power. I have space to turn round and get a fairly good look at the edifice.

In the course of making my documentary series about identity, Who Are You?, for Channel 4, the identity I found hardest to talk about, the most elusive, was Default Man’s. Somehow, his world-view, his take on society, now so overlaps with the dominant narrative that it is like a Death Star hiding behind the moon. We cannot unpick his thoughts and feelings from the “proper, right-thinking” attitudes of our society. It is like in the past, when people who spoke in cut-glass, RP, BBC tones would insist they did not have an accent, only northerners and poor people had one of those. We live and breathe in a Default Male world: no wonder he succeeds, for much of our society operates on his terms.

Chris Huhne (60, Westminster, PPE Mag­dalen, self-destructively heterosexual), the Default Man we chose to interview for our series, pooh-poohed any suggestion when asked if he benefited from membership or if he represented this group. Lone Default Man will never admit to, or be fully aware of, the tribal advantages of his identity. They are, naturally, full subscribers to that glorious capitalist project, they are individuals!

This adherence to being individuals is the nub of the matter. Being “individual” means that if they achieve something good, it is down to their own efforts. They got the job because they are brilliant, not because they are a Default Man, and they are also presumed more competent by other Default Men. If they do something bad it is also down to the individual and not to do with their gender, race or class. If a Default Man commits a crime it is not because fraud or sexual harassment, say, are endemic in his tribe (coughs), it is because he is a wrong ’un. If a Default Man gets emotional it is because he is a “passionate” individual, whereas if he were a woman it would often be blamed on her sex.

When we talk of identity, we often think of groups such as black Muslim lesbians in wheelchairs. This is because identity only seems to become an issue when it is challenged or under threat. Our classic Default Man is rarely under existential threat; consequently, his identity remains unexamined. It ambles along blithely, never having to stand up for its rights or to defend its homeland.

When talking about identity groups, the word “community” often crops up. The working class, gay people, black people or Muslims are always represented by a “community leader”. We rarely, if ever, hear of the white middle-class community. “Communities” are defined in the eye of Default Man. Community seems to be a euphemism for the vulnerable lower orders. Community is “other”. Communities usually seem to be embattled, separate from society. “Society” is what Default Man belongs to.

In news stories such as the alleged “Trojan Horse” plot in Birmingham schools and the recent child-abuse scandal in Rotherham, the central involvement of an ethnic or faith “community” skews the attitudes of police, social services and the media. The Muslim or Pakistani heritage of those accused becomes the focus. I’m not saying that faith and ethnic groups don’t have their particular problems but the recipe for such trouble is made up of more than one spicy, foreign ingredient. I would say it involves more than a few handfuls of common-or-garden education/class issues, poor mental health and, of course, the essential ingredient in nearly all nasty or violent problems, men. Yeah, men – bit like them Default Men but without suits on.

In her essay “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema”, published in 1975, Laura Mulvey coined the term “the male gaze”. She was writing about how the gaze of the movie camera reflected the heterosexual male viewpoint of the directors (a viewpoint very much still with us, considering that only 9 per cent of the top 250 Hollywood films in 2012 were directed by women and only 2 per cent of the cinematographers were female).

The Default Male gaze does not just dominate cinema, it looks down on society like the eye on Sauron’s tower in The Lord of the Rings. Every other identity group is “othered” by it. It is the gaze of the expensively nondescript corporate leader watching consumers adorn themselves with his company’s products the better to get his attention.

Default Man feels he is the reference point from which all other values and cultures are judged. Default Man is the zero longitude of identities.

He has forged a society very much in his own image, to the point where now much of what other groups think and feel is the same. They take on the attitudes of Default Man because they are the attitudes of our elders, our education, our government, our media. If Default Men approve of something it must be good, and if they disapprove it must be bad, so people end up hating themselves, because their internalised Default Man is berating them for being female, gay, black, silly or wild.

I often hear women approvingly describe themselves or other women as feisty. Feisty, I feel, has sexist implications, as if standing up for yourself was exceptional in a woman. It sounds like a word that a raffish Lothario would use about a difficult conquest.

I once gave a talk on kinky sex and during the questions afterwards a gay woman floated an interesting thought: “Is the legalising of gay marriage an attempt to neutralise the otherness of homosexuals?” she asked. Was the subversive alternative being neutered by allowing gays to marry and ape a hetero lifestyle? Many gay people might have enjoyed their dangerous outsider status. Had Default Man implanted a desire to be just like him?

Is the fact that we think like Default Man the reason why a black female Doctor Who has not happened, that it might seem “wrong” or clunky? In my experience, when I go to the doctor I am more likely to see a non-white woman than a Default Man.

It is difficult to tweezer out the effect of Default Man on our culture, so ingrained is it after centuries of their rules. A friend was once on a flight from Egypt. As it came in to land at Heathrow he looked down at the rows of mock-Tudor stockbroker-belt houses in west London. Pointing them out, he said to the Egyptian man sitting next to him: “Oh well, back to boring old England.” The Egyptian replied, “Ah, but to me this is very exotic.” And he was right. To much of the world the Default Englishman is a funny foreign folk icon, with his bowler hat, his Savile Row suit and Hugh Grant accent, living like Reggie Perrin in one of those polite suburban semis. All the same, his tribal costume and rituals have probably clothed and informed the global power elite more than any other culture. Leaders wear his clothes, talk his language and subscribe to some version of his model of how society “should be”.

When I was at art college in the late Seventies/early Eighties, one of the slogans the feminists used was: “Objectivity is Male Subjectivity.” This brilliantly encapsulates how male power nestles in our very language, exerting influence at the most fundamental level. Men, especially Default Men, have put forward their biased, highly emotional views as somehow “rational”, more considered, more “calm down, dear”. Women and “exotic” minorities are framed as “passionate” or “emotional” as if they, the Default Men, had this unique ability to somehow look round the side of that most interior lens, the lens that is always distorted by our feelings. Default Man somehow had a dispassionate, empirical, objective vision of the world as a birthright, and everyone else was at the mercy of turbulent, uncontrolled feelings. That, of course, explained why the “others” often held views that were at such odds with their supposedly cool, analytic vision of the world.

Recently, footage of the UN spokesman Chris Gunness breaking down in tears as he spoke of the horrors occurring in Gaza went viral. It was newsworthy because reporters and such spokespeople are supposed to be dispassionate and impartial. To show such feelings was to be “unprofessional”. And lo! The inherited mental health issues of Default Man are cast as a necessity for serious employment.

I think Default Man should be made aware of the costs and increasing obsolescence of this trait, celebrated as “a stiff upper lip”. This habit of denying, recasting or suppressing emotion may give him the veneer of “professionalism” but, as David Hume put it: “Reason is a slave of the passions.” To be unaware of or unwilling to examine feelings means those feelings have free rein to influence behaviour unconsciously. Unchecked, they can motivate Default Man covertly, unacknowledged, often wreaking havoc. Even if rooted in long-past events in the deep unconscious, these emotions still fester, churning in the dark at the bottom of the well. Who knows what unconscious, screwed-up “personal journeys” are being played out on the nation by emotionally illiterate Default Men?

Being male and middle class and being from a generation that still valued the stiff upper lip means our Default Man is an ideal candidate for low emotional awareness. He sits in a gender/ class/age nexus marked “Unexploded Emotional Time Bomb”.

These people have been in charge of our world for a long time.

Things may be changing.
 

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Women are often stereotyped as the emotional ones, and men as rational. But, after the 2008 crash, the picture looked different, as Hanna Rosin wrote in an article in the Atlantic titled “The End of Men”:

Researchers have started looking into the relationship between testosterone and excessive risk, and wondering if groups of men, in some basic hormonal way, spur each other to make reckless decisions. The picture emerging is a mirror image of the traditional gender map: men and markets on the side of the irrational and overemotional, and women on the side of the cool and level-headed.

Over the centuries, empirical, clear thinking has become branded with the image of Default Men. They were the ones granted the opportunity, the education, the leisure, the power to put their thoughts out into the world. In people’s minds, what do professors look like? What do judges look like? What do leaders look like? The very aesthetic of seriousness has been monopolised by Default Man. Practically every person on the globe who wants to be taken seriously in politics, business and the media dresses up in some way like a Default Man, in a grey, western, two-piece business suit. Not for nothing is it referred to as “power dressing”. We’ve all seen those photo ops of world leaders: colour and pattern shriek out as anachronistic. Consequently, many women have adopted this armour of the unremarkable. Angela Merkel, the most powerful woman in the world, wears a predictable unfussy, feminised version of the male look. Hillary Clinton has adopted a similar style. Some businesswomen describe this need to tone down their feminine appearance as “taking on the third gender”.

Peter Jones on Dragons’ Den was once referred to as “eccentric” for wearing brightly coloured stripy socks. So rigid is the Default Man look that men’s suit fashions pivot on tiny changes of detail at a glacial pace. US politicians wear such a narrow version of the Default Man look that you rarely see one wearing a tie that is not plain or striped.

Suits you, sir: Grayson Perry as Default Man.
Photo: Kalpesh Lathigra/New Statesman

One tactic that men use to disguise their subjectively restricted clothing choices is the justification of spurious function. As if they need a watch that splits lap times and works 300 feet underwater, or a Himalayan mountaineer’s jacket for a walk in the park. The rufty-tufty army/hunter camouflage pattern is now to boys as pink is to girls. Curiously, I think the real function of the sober business suit is not to look smart but as camouflage. A person in a grey suit is invisible, in the way burglars often wear hi-vis jackets to pass as unremarkable “workmen”. The business suit is the uniform of those who do the looking, the appraising. It rebuffs comment by its sheer ubiquity. Many office workers loathe dress-down Fridays because they can no longer hide behind a suit. They might have to expose something of their messy selves through their “casual” clothes. Modern, overprofessionalised politicians, having spent too long in the besuited tribal compound, find casual dress very difficult to get right convincingly. David Cameron, while ruining Converse basketball shoes for the rest of us, never seemed to me as if he belonged in a pair.

When I am out and about in an eye-catching frock, men often remark to me, “Oh, I wish I could dress like you and did not have to wear a boring suit.” Have to! The male role is heavily policed from birth, by parents, peers and bosses. Politicians in particular are harshly kept in line by a media that seems to uphold more bizarrely rigid standards of conformity than those held by any citizen. Each component of the Default Male role – his gender, his class, his age and his sexuality – confines him to an ever narrower set of behaviours, until riding a bicycle or growing a beard, having messy hair or enjoying a pint are seen as ker-azy eccentricity. The fashionable members’ club Shoreditch House, the kind of place where “creatives” with two iPhones and three bicycles hang out, has a “No Suits” rule. How much of this is a pseudo-rebellious pose and how much is in recognition of the pernicious effect of the overgrown schoolboy’s uniform, I do not know.

I dwell on the suit because I feel it exemplifies how the upholders of Default Male values hide in plain sight. Imagine if, by democratic decree, the business suit was banned, like certain items of Islamic dress have been banned in some countries. Default Men would flounder and complain that they were not being treated with “respect”.

The most pervasive aspect of the Default Man identity is that it masquerades very efficiently as “normal” – and “normal”, along with “natural”, is a dangerous word, often at the root of hateful prejudice. As Sherrie Bourg Carter, author of High-Octane Women, writes:

Women in today’s workforce . . . are experiencing a much more camouflaged foe – second-generation gender biases . . . “work cultures and practices that appear neutral and natural on their face”, yet they reflect masculine values and life situations of men.

Personally, working in the arts, I do not often encounter Default Man en masse, but when I do it is a shock. I occasionally get invited to formal dinners in the City of London and on arrival, I am met, in my lurid cocktail dress, with a sea of dinner jackets; perhaps harshly, my expectations of a satisfying conversation drop. I feel rude mentioning the black-clad elephant in the room. I sense that I am the anthropologist allowed in to the tribal ritual.

Of course, this weird minority, these curiously dominant white males, are anything but normal. “Normal,” as Carl Jung said, “is the ideal aim for the unsuccessful.” They like to keep their abnormal power low-key: the higher the power, the duller the suit and tie, a Mercedes rather than a Rolls, just another old man chatting casually to prime ministers at the wedding of a tabloid editor.

Revolution is happening. I am loath to use the R word because bearded young men usually characterise it as sudden and violent. But that is just another unhelpful cliché. I feel real revolutions happen thoughtfully in peacetime. A move away from the dominance of Default Man is happening, but way too slowly. Such changes in society seem to happen at a pace set by incremental shifts in the animal spirits of the population. I have heard many of the “rational” (ie, male) arguments against quotas and positive discrimination but I feel it is a necessary fudge to enable just change to happen in the foreseeable future. At the present rate of change it will take more than a hundred years before the UK parliament is 50 per cent female.

The outcry against positive discrimination is the wail of someone who is having their privilege taken away. For talented black, female and working-class people to take their just place in the limited seats of power, some of those Default Men are going to have to give up their seats.

Perhaps Default Man needs to step down from some of his most celebrated roles. I’d happily watch a gay black James Bond and an all-female Top Gear, QI or Have I Got News for You. Jeremy Paxman should have been replaced by a woman on Newsnight. More importantly, we need a quota of MPs who (shock) have not been to university but have worked on the shop floor of key industries; have had life experiences that reflect their constituents’; who actually represent the country rather than just a narrow idea of what a politician looks like. The ridiculousness of objections to quotas would become clear if you were to suggest that, instead of calling it affirmative action, we adopted “Proportionate Default Man Quotas” for government and business. We are wasting talent. Women make up a majority of graduates in such relevant fields as law.

Default Man seems to be the embodiment of George Bernard Shaw’s unreasonable man: “The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to make the world adapt to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man.”

Default Man’s days may be numbered; a lot of his habits are seen at best as old-fashioned or quaint and at worst as redundant, dangerous or criminal. He carries a raft of unhelpful habits and attitudes gifted to him from history – adrenalin addiction, a need for certainty, snobbery, emotional constipation and an overdeveloped sense of entitlement – which have often proved disastrous for society and can also stop poor Default Man from leading a fulfilling life.

Earlier this year, at the Being A Man festival at the Southbank Centre in London, I gave a talk on masculinity called: “Men, Sit Down for your Rights!”. A jokey title, yes, but one making a serious point: that perhaps, if men were to loosen their grip on power, there might be some benefits for them. The straitjacket of the Default Man identity is not necessarily one happily donned by all members of the tribe: many struggle with the bad fit of being leader, provider, status hunter, sexual predator, respectable and dignified symbol of straight achievement. Maybe the “invisible weightless backpack” that the US feminist Peggy McIntosh uses to describe white privilege, full of “special provisions, maps, passports, codebooks, visas, clothes, tools and blank checks”, does weigh rather a lot after all.

Grayson Perry is a Turner Prize-winning artist. In 2012, his series All In The Best Possible Taste was broadcast on Channel 4, and in 2013 he delivered the BBC’s Reith Lectures. He guest-edited the New Statesman in October 2014.

Photo: Getty
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“There’s no equality in healthcare”: Working under the shadow of Ireland’s 8th

As the referendum on Ireland's anti-abortion law nears, the New Statesman talks to those working on the frontline of pregnancy about how the amendment affects their work. 

On 25 May, Ireland will hold a referendum that has been 35 years in the making. And it’s one of particular significance to women, whichever side they’re on.

The question is whether the 8th Amendment, which recognises the equal right to life of the unborn, should be removed from the constitution. While it is still in place, abortion cannot be legislated for or regulated in Ireland.

The only scenario in which abortion is currently legal in the Republic is where there is a “real and substantial” risk to the life, as distinct from the health, of a woman. In all other circumstances, including rape, incest and fatal foetal abnormalities, it is a criminal act to obtain one, with a maximum sentence of up to 14 years in prison.

This puts Ireland’s abortion laws well behind all other EU countries aside from Malta and Northern Ireland (as part of the UK). And it’s a human rights debate that has been raging in this historically Catholic country ever since conservative campaigners pushed for the amendment to be added back in 1983.

The impact of the current situation on Irish women and their health is clear, with thousands travelling abroad every year – mainly to England – to terminate unwanted or non-viable pregnancies. But what is it like to be the pro-choice medical professional who cannot support them? And what impact does the 8th have on Ireland’s maternity services as a whole?

“I was one of those people who grew up ‘pro-life’ and became pro-choice,” says midwife Jeannine Webster. “As I understood it then, you were not really a good person if you had an abortion. And then you learn, you know?”

Webster, who is 52, became a midwife in her early forties. She currently works at one of Ireland’s largest maternity hospitals, and has three adult children. In 2016 she became part of the campaign group Midwives for Choice.

For her, the issue with the 8th Amendment is the disparity in the level of care she can provide to women who make different choices: “There’s no equality in healthcare. Because as much as I can 100 per cent support a couple that want to continue with their pregnancy, I can’t do that for those who feel emotionally that would be too much.”

Webster tells me a story about a couple who came into her clinic a few months ago. During this visit, they learned their baby had a fatal foetal abnormality and would not survive outside the womb. The mother was in her second trimester of pregnancy with their third child.

 “The woman said, ‘Can we not just have the baby now?’ And I said, ‘No, because the baby still has a heartbeat.’ And she turned around to me, ‘But what’ll happen? What can I do?’ And I felt I couldn’t tell her what she could do. I can’t.”

“It absolutely makes a traumatic situation massively more difficult for them.”

In Ireland, as a medical professional, giving out information on abortion services abroad is subject to strict guidelines. It must not be accompanied by any advocacy or promotion of abortion and all options must be fully outlined. It is also against the law to make a referral to an abortion service on behalf of the pregnant woman. This makes difficult conversations tricky to navigate.

Despite this, 3,265 women travelled from Ireland to the UK in 2016 to have an abortion. That figure accounts for nearly 70 per cent of all non-resident abortions carried out in the UK that year.

Dr Jennifer Donnelly is a consultant obstetrician at Dublin’s Rotunda Hospital who deals with foetal abnormalities and complex maternal problems. She says that being unable to refer patients for termination services either at home or abroad creates health risks and unwelcome gaps in care.

“If somebody has got a devastating diagnosis and then has to try and negotiate a whole other health system with minimal support, it absolutely makes a traumatic situation massively more difficult for them,” she says. “We want to provide care for women. Part of that care is looking after women who are bereaved under those circumstances.”

Not all medical professionals agree.

“The Eighth Amendment has one medical effect only: it prevents Irish doctors from deliberately, as an elective matter, causing the death of an unborn child,” wrote Professor Eamon McGuinness, a consultant obstetrician and pro-life campaigner, in The Irish Times earlier this month.

“That right does not restrict doctors from acting to save the life of a woman where a serious complication arises,” McGuinness continued, in reference to recent reports of women being denied life-saving cancer treatment due to an unplanned pregnancy.

Dr Maeve Eogan, a fellow consultant obstetrician, was quick to point out on social media that although abortion is lawful where there is “a real and substantial risk” to a woman’s life, McGuinness had failed to address a number of important areas. For example, sexual violence and life-limiting foetal conditions, “or the fact that women travel and take unregulated medications every day”.

Eogan is Medical Director of Ireland’s National SATU (Sexual Assault Treatment Unit) Services. She has witnessed the trauma caused to women by both sexual violence and fatal foetal abnormalities first hand. One of her primary concerns is women’s fragmented experience of care.

“At the moment, Irish women who travel to the UK for termination of pregnancy – or access unregulated medications online – are not getting the full range of termination of pregnancy care,” she says.

“So they’re not getting the post termination follow-up, and they’re not getting the appropriate contraception. There isn’t the holistic care package. They’re accessing one piece of the jigsaw, but they’re not accessing the other things which promote their health in the long-term.”

“It in essence means that women have no guaranteed role in decisions about their care.”

When it comes to continued pregnancies in Ireland, pro-choice health professionals have differing views on whether the 8th Amendment plays any role.

Philomena Canning, a 57-year-old independent home birth midwife and founder of Midwives for Choice, believes the 8th Amendment undermines the rights of all pregnant women; not just those seeking an abortion.

 “The 8th Amendment strikes at the core of midwifery,” Canning says. “And at the core of midwifery is respect for the human rights and personal decision-making of the woman. It in essence means that women have no guaranteed role in decisions about their care and treatment from the time they get pregnant until the baby is actively born.”

She cites the 2016 case of Geraldine Williams, from Ballyjamesduff, Co Cavan, who had three children delivered by caesarean section and wanted to have her fourth child naturally.

In September of that year, when Williams was 40 weeks pregnant, the Health Service Executive applied to the High Court for an order allowing it to carry out a caesarean section against her wishes. This was to assert her baby’s right to life under article 40.3.3 of the constitution. Williams had already been hospitalised and would not agree to a c-section.

The judge ultimately refused to grant the order, saying the increased risks associated with a natural birth did not justify “effectively authorising to have her uterus opened against her will, something which would constitute a grievous assault if done on a woman who was not pregnant”.

But Eogan and Donnelly, both specialist consultants in their fields, insist that the impact of the 8th is generally restricted to women seeking terminations.

“That kind of situation is extremely rare,” says Donnelly. “A woman’s wishes should not be overwritten and a procedure should not be done to her without her consent.

“I think rather than it being the 8th Amendment, there certainly can be old fashioned attitudes from doctors and midwives to core ways of approaching things,” she concedes. “The woman’s views should not be disregarded and I think that would be a traditional patriarchal model, which is definitely changing, but I’m sure it may still be present in certain places.”

“We don’t have to have the 8th Amendment to be able to value women.”

Though their views might differ on this subject, all agree that Ireland’s maternity services still have a way to go to compete with the UK’s progressive, midwifery-led model for low risk births.

“We have pockets of excellent community midwifery in a whole range of areas in Ireland,” says Eogan. “But it is not universal. And some women who may wish to attend a community midwifery service, proximate to their home and their hospital, may not be able to do so.”

"While I may not agree personally that the amendment affects care in the labour ward, I don’t think it should be used as an excuse for poor professional behaviour either,” says Donnelly. “Our aim is to provide an excellent standard of care for women and we shouldn’t be using that as a barrier to consent, to exploring women’s concerns and choices in labour. From a cultural perspective, listening and communication is totally crucial, and if getting rid of the 8th helped to improve that culture, then I’m all in favour of that too."

And how might that culture change in Ireland, if the 8th Amendment is removed? “I hope that because that provision won’t be there that undermines women’s rights and choices that their voices will be a little more heard,” says 32-year old Dublin midwife Róisín Smith.

“And the things that women want – whether it be midwife-led care, midwife-led units, homebirths, being allowed more flexibility in terms of time in labour – all of that will be much more possible.

“We don’t have to have the 8th Amendment in our constitution for us to be able to value women and unborn babies as a society. Those kind of moralistic arguments that people make for the 8th, those morals don’t have to disappear because we also want to value women as mothers and decision-makers.”