Mary Kenny
“The law depends on evidence of what is said and what is done: the law cannot deal with the secret signals of the heart and the eyes which may be interpreted in any which way”, writes Mary Kenny
Frances Fitzgerald, the Justice Minister, has a huge task before her in bringing legislation before the Oireachtas to define sexual consent.
The intention is excellent, and has been striven for in codes of conduct throughout the centuries, from the Renaissance chivalric efforts to instil ‘gentlemanliness’, to the Victorians stigmatising a seducer as a ‘cad and a bounder’.
The Don Juans who ‘took advantage’ of women were always deplored – rightly so.
The law is now trying to replace manners and morals of yore by redefining this area in legal terms.
But can the law always define what ‘consent’ really means in a sexual relationship? Yes, if there is blatant evidence of rape or assault. And intoxication or drug-addled unconsciousness should be no defence against rape or assault. It may not be edifying if a woman is too drunk to know (or remember) what is going on, but sexual intimacy in these circumstances is still a wrongful act.
It’s when you get into the more complex and subtle areas that ‘consent’ is so difficult to define in law. The law depends on evidence of what is said and what is done: the law cannot deal with the secret signals of the heart and the eyes which may be interpreted in any which way.
Shakespeare explains all this, with his customary insight into human nature and finesse of language in The Merchant of Venice, when Bassanio says of Portia: “Sometimes from her eyes I did receive fair speechless messages.”
Messages
Popular music is full of allusions to non-verbal messages which imply seduction or desire. The Everly Brothers had a great hit song which begins: “What do you want to make those eyes at me for?/When they don’t mean what they say?” The lyrics of this hit could even be interpreted, today, as a threat of rape: the girl to whom the song is addressed is told she is “fooling around” with the boy, that she’s “leading him on” and she’s going to find that she’s “messing with dynamite”.
How, exactly, is Minister Fitzgerald going to translate the myriad messages of flirtation, emotional engagement, desire, and even lust, into a fair and satisfactory law? Impossible, I would say.
What’s wrong with patriotic purchasing?
When I was growing up, we were constantly enjoined to ‘buy Irish’, whenever possible. There was an afternoon radio programme of Irish music, where the mantra went: “If you must sing, do sing an Irish song.”
It was a matter of minor mortification to some that our wooden coat-hangers bore the shaming words: ‘An tSualainn Tir a Dheanta.’
But today, when President Trump urges Americans to “buy American”, it’s considered xenophobic and narrow-minded nationalism.
Granted ‘buy Irish’ didn’t always work out successfully, because sometimes Irish goods could not compete successfully. Perhaps the standard wasn’t as high, or they didn’t have the big bucks to do the advertising and branding.
I still ‘buy Irish’ whenever I can. There’s a fine skincare range of Irish beauty products called Green Angel (based on seaweed products, known to be healing and restorative), but it is more difficult to find, and it’s hard to compete with the big international brands like L’Oreal and Revlon.
Sure, trade and commerce are about exchange, and there must be trading between nations. But I don’t see anything wrong with Americans being encouraged to buy American any more than we saw anything wrong with ‘buy Irish’.
An honour for a native son of Belfast
It’s lovely that Belfast is embracing the legacy of C.S. Lewis. C.S. Lewis Square – just off the Newtownards Road – was formally named just before Christmas, complete with sculpture of Lewis himself and the famous wardrobe from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.
Obviously, movies bring a huge, world-wide audience to a story only previously known to devoted book-readers, and the films of The Narnia Chronicles did that for the work of C.S. Lewis. It’s a magical world of awe and wonder with a Christian undertone.
Influence
His more polemical books have always had a strong following, and I remember being greatly influenced by Mere Christianity, and the very entertaining Screwtape Letters, in which a more seasoned devil instructs an apprentice devil on the how to employ wiles and cunning to corrupt mere mortals.
Clive Lewis – known as ‘Jack’ – was the grandson of a Church of Ireland clergyman. He fell away from his faith as a young man, but later, influenced by the Catholic writer Tolkien, he returned to it. His Christianity was Anglican, but always ecumenical.
As an Oxford don living in England, Lewis sought out Irish friends, and always felt for his Irish heritage.
His stepson Douglas Gresham attended the opening of C.S. Lewis Square and said that ‘Jack’ would be delighted to be honoured in his native city.
And what a fine example of ecumenical Christianity C.S. Lewis is on the Newtownards Road.