In Ballymun, lining up to read and reconnect with the constitution

On the mezzanine floor, upstairs in the Axis Theatre last Friday lunchtime, a karaoke, of sorts, was unfolding.

“Some people have described the experience as a bit of a law mass, right? Because there’s like cloaks and reading aloud and bells,” said Maebh Harding, professor of family law at UCD’s Sutherland School of Law.

But yes also, she says, “some people have said it's a bit like karaoke”.

“Bunreacht Aloud”, a collective reading of Bunreacht na hÉireann – the Constitution of Ireland – was the final event of Ballymun Community Law Centre’s “Community Law Festival”.

Folks in the community were invited to come together, taking a turn reading one of the 50 articles of the country’s founding document.

At midday, Harding was at the podium, along with poet and law graduate, Julie Morrissy – both dressed in long black cloaks.

They’re not ordinary legal cloaks, Morrissy had explained earlier by phone.

No, indeed. They’re “feminist constitutional futures cloaks”, designed and embroidered for the Northern/Ireland Feminist Constitutional Futures Project by the Array Collective.

An event like this one, and the work of the law centre, in highlighting and supporting people to know their rights, is incredibly important, says Rory Hearne TD, of the Social Democrats, who was at the reading.  

He was to read Article 45, on social policy. It sets out that the state has an obligation, a responsibility to people to ensure their proper welfare, he said.

A man shuffled into the back row of seats. He wasn’t there to read an article, he says cheerfully, but to listen to his son. “If that’s alright?” 

“No problem,” says Claire McSweeney, manager of the community law centre.

The atmosphere is relaxed. A table of biscuits, tea and coffee sits to the side. Nobody is expected to sit still for the whole two and a half hours.

Harding theatrically rings a large brass bell, with a wooden handle. The community recital starts.

Law mass

Morrissy reads the preamble. 

Then, young teenagers from the Aisling Youth Project, a local after-school group, take turns at the podium for the early articles.

They stand along the side of the room. As one boy goes up to read, another pats him on the back encouragingly.

Apart from a slight giggle from the group as one member tries to adjust the microphone stand, the group are engaged and incredibly polite.

A middle-aged man reads Article 15, “The National Parliament”, detailing the role of the Oireachtas.

“Well done, man,” one of the kids tells him, as he passes by after. 

Earlier, two women had tag-teamed on Article 12, on the role of the president. The often-patriarchal tone of the constitution became apparent.

Article 12.3: “The President shall hold office for seven years from the date upon which he enters upon his office …”

Article 12.7: “The first President shall enter upon his office as soon as may be after his election, and every subsequent President shall enter upon his office on the day following the expiration of the term of office of his predecessor or as soon as may be thereafter …”

One of the pair makes the only live edit of the day. In real time, he/him/his become they/them/theirs.

By Morrissy’s calculations, there are 110 references to male gender pronouns in Bunreacht na hÉireann. And just seven to women, she said earlier.

After Article 39, Harding speaks up.

“So, you might have noticed that there hasn't been much discussion of women in the constitution so far,” she says.

A short interlude breaks up the proceedings. Harding introduces local poet Dee Keating.

Keating reads her own poem “The Power of Woman Rises”. 

She chronicles the experiences of women, through history to the current day. A reminder of the strength in the divine feminine.

“Generations of strong women forgotten and squandered, imprisoned, institutionalised and laundered // Legacy buried, exchanged and sold // Human souls never got the chance to grow old,” Keating read. “We will never not be queens.”

The Ballymun poet finished on her final affirmation. “The power of woman rises,” she said.

“Amen,” rose a woman’s voice in the audience.

Unmet legal need

Ballymun Community Law Centre is now 23 years old, says McSweeney. It just published its latest annual report. 

But it’s still surprising to her that so many in the area aren’t aware that it exists, she says.

That’s why they held this week-long Community Law Festival in the Axis, she said, to help spread the message and continue making connections in the community.

They ran talks all week, dealing directly with many of the issues that they encounter regularly in the centre.

“We get a lot of employment queries,” she says. So, they brought in an employment specialist for an advice clinic and talk.

They get plenty of people with housing issues, she says. So, they had Peter Dorman from Community Action Network talk about housing rights and community action.

“We were trying to relate it to what we see the legal need is. It's what we call the ‘unmet legal need’. We had a week of that, and it was fun too,” says McSweeney.

It was gratifying, she says, hearing how the young people from the Aisling Project as they prepared for the public reading of the constitution had great conversations about what it all means.

The centre is vital, says Hearne, the Social Democrats TD who read Article 45, “Directive Principles of Social Policy”.

“Whether it's substandard housing, dealing with problems of mould and damp that aren't been fixed,” he said. “Renters facing eviction from the private rental sector.”

People young and old, trying to access health services or disability services but not being treated properly and given the supports they are entitled to, he says.

“I think events like this show them that actually you do have a right to, you know, decent standard of housing, access to health services, access to education,” he says.

Hearne works with families with children with additional needs, who are unable to access school places and services, he says.

Yet their right to education is laid out bare in black and white in Article 45, he says, for all to see – and hear.

“It's about them using that then to claim those rights,” Hearne says.

As the speakers took turns, the constitution unrolled.

The national flag, the Irish language, the management of natural resources, citizenship. What happens if the President is incapacitated? What happens if we’re invaded? 

As the event closed out, Harding read  “The Index Poem”, her own work. It was inspired by the at-the-time archaic language of the constitution, she said. 

“Widows: see state support // Women: see family; sex // Work: see mother’s work,” she said.

Bunreacht Aloud was conceived by Morrissy and Harding last year, and trialled once at University College Dublin. 

Ballymun was the second performance. The first in a community setting, Morrissy says – although she hopes they can take it to more spaces in the future.

“The main point about the constitution is that the language should be inclusive for everyone and represent everyone in Irish society,” she says. “Bunreacht belongs to everyone!”

Funded by the Local Democracy Reporting Scheme.