Special Advisers Bill

NB: This is a personal blog, and I speak about this bill as an individual. I'm not speaking for the Labour Party, nor am I speaking for the SDLP or NUS-USI. I'm speaking as myself, and will be held account as an individual. If you have any problems or concerns with what I have said, talk to me about them- not my political parties. These words do not reflect any political party nor political organisation. 

PDF of the final Bill: http://www.niassembly.gov.uk/Documents/Legislation/Bills/Non-Executive%20Bills/Session-2011-12/Civil%20Service%20(Special%20Advisers)%20Bill.pdf

Copy of the Belfast Agreement: http://cain.ulst.ac.uk/events/peace/docs/agreement.htm#rights

The Civil Service (Special Advisers) Bill is causing a lot of controversy. In the last fortnight we've seen a lot of immature, childish, and pretty libellous things said about parties and individuals on both sides of the debate. This is a debate that needs to be had with great sensitivity and respect. We're talking about the lives of innocent people who have died during a period of intense conflict- essentially, it was a war.

The Bill stipulates for the appointed "special adviser not to have serious criminal conviction", which means a conviction for which "a sentence of imprisonment of five years or more was imposed" or "a sentence of imprisonment for life was imposed" and applies "whether the person was convicted in Northern Ireland or elsewhere, was convicted before or after the coming into operation of this Act".

"The Department must issue a code governing the appointment of special advisers within 3 months of this section coming into operation" and "the appointment of special advisers must be subject to the same vetting procedures as the appointment of Senior Civil Servants to the Northern Ireland Civil Service". 

A number of amendments were proposed by Dominic Bradley & Alban Maginness- all of which were rejected by Jim Allister, the proposer of the bill. Unsurprisingly. 

The Good Friday Agreement of 1998 stipulates that "the parties affirm their commitment to the mutual respect, the civil rights and the religious liberties of everyone in the community... the right to pursue democratically national and political aspirations, the right to seek constitutional change by peaceful and legitimate means... the right to equal opportunity in all social and economic activity... the right of women to full and equal political participation". 

"The achievement of a peaceful and just society would be the true memorial to the victims of violence". "An essential aspect of the reconciliation process is the promotion of a culture of tolerance at every level of society". 

If we had a Bill of Rights, like we're supposed to, this Bill wouldn't hold up. Criminal convictions do play a part in some jobs, such as teaching, medicine, etc. And *mostly*, I can see why (though the fact that criminal convictions play a part in whether or not you can work in a certain sector opens up another argument to the validity of the convictions and the processes surrounding them- which is another important argument to have, not not one I'm trying to have here). 

But the peace process (if you can call it that) wouldn't have happened if we didn't have political prisoners on side, if they were not sitting at the negotiating table and actively working to end their campaigns of armed resistance. It wouldn't have happened, period. There are many weaknesses to the Good Friday Agreement, but the fact that it actually happened remains a strength. 

To shut out those with criminal convictions from becoming special advisers is not fair. We elect them. We work alongside them. If we're going to open the special advisers can of worms, then why don't we focus on their huge salary? Why don't we focus on the fact it is more often than not 'jobs for the boys', rather than the appointment of an expert in the field? To me, that is more concerning. I'd have no problem with a special adviser having had a criminal conviction if they actually knew what they were talking about when they took up the post- many don't, and that's a huge problem that seems to be too often ignored. We seem intent to shut out those with criminal convictions but ignore the fact that so many of those employed (with and without criminal convictions) are in no way qualified for the job. That's the most important issue, to me.

If we had an adequate programme of reconciliation, victims would feel as though their losses have been acknowledged. Recognised and apologised for. And we haven't done that yet. The reason that emotions are running so high amidst this Bill is because we have no process of reconciliation, we have not acknowledged the hurts of the past and it doesn't look like the current Executive in Stormont are getting any further in any kind of strategy. This is a huge problem. And again, the Bill has overtaken this issue as seemingly a more important one. 

It's a plaster covering a wound that needs properly dressed and a much bigger bandage than the one currently being offered. It'll help for a bit, but in the end, will prove futile in both the reconciliation process and any kind of attempt to foster a tolerant and just society.

Blue Monday.

Every Sunday, along with millions of others around the world, I check the PostSecret website. I save every postcard on my laptop, and I usually post a few ones on my tumblr, too. And today this one made me think. So I thought I'd write. It's the back of a card, so if you don't know what I'm talking about it might be best to visit the PostSecret website first to see the other side of the card.

With every medication, there are side effects. And the strong the drug, the stronger the side effects (well, for some people, anyway). I've been on quite a few different drugs and had a number of unpleasant side effects, so much so that in the past I've contemplated coming off medication altogether.

I think I was about 17. I'd been on medication for a few years at that point. I remember being in CAMHS, anyway. I don't know what I was talking about, why I wanted to come off it in the first place, but I was depressed and saw the drugs as making what was a cognitive problem worse. Then I wanted to come off them again, last year. I remember Sylvia's reply, it went something like, "So you're depressed and frustrated and you want to come off the anti-depressants because you feel like that will help? In what world would coming off the anti-depressants make sense?" I was 19 and stressed and depressed and constantly terrified and didn't want to have to deal with these horrible problems in front of me. I was sick of the fact that no one around me was going through it, I was sick of the fact that my peers' biggest worries were essay deadlines and making it in to class when I was trying to unblock my head, figure out why I was making myself depressed and try not to top myself in the process.      

Today is 'Blue Monday'. I'd never heard of this before, but apparently it's the most depressing day of the year. So far today I have managed to wake up, showered, handed in two essays, made birthday presents/jewellery, and watched a lot of 24. This is considered a very successful day for me. 

So what I wanted to say, or rather, ask- was it worth it? Are the side effects worth it? Are the hours (and money) spent in therapy worth it? Is it worth losing what feels like a huge part of myself, my identity, to try and keep myself safe?  

Every single damn tear and word needs to be worth it, because we are living in a world that does not care, a world that will let us fall and ignore our screams for help. It needs to be worth it because we need to change this world, change it for the better, change it to make it worth trying to survive. 

The last few weeks have shown me more than ever that we are at a critical time in the fight for the rights of disabled people in the UK and Ireland, one of a thousand problems I could easily list. We need to mobilise students to fight for the rights of those who are deliberately silenced and deliberately ignored. We need to use all the tools at our disposal, whatever they might be, to make sure that this fight does not go unheard and unnoticed. I am a disabled woman student and I am being let down, every single day, by the voices in Stormont, Westminster; even in places as close as my students' union and university. Where the hell has the compassion gone? Where is the anger? No one is going to start the argument for us- we need to do it ourselves.

2012 #2.

July

Moving into Ashley, the disastrous first day and the great weeks that followed. Sarah's birthday, the meals out, the wonderful beautiful meals out where I worried about the cost rather than the calories. Falafel burgers and cocktails. Niamh's birthday night out, endless trips to Limelight and too many walks home from wherever he was staying that month. Alcohol, nights out, afternoons sitting in the garden smoking. Having the best time in the flat, happily living with a best friend and the best bed I've ever slept in. Beginning to work in NUSUSI, learning more everyday. Saying goodbye to Sylvia, the woman who saved my life more than once. Beginning to think I'd be able to cope on my own. Up and down, always up and down.

August

Forfey, camping and alcohol and taking photos and having the best time. Missing Heather and the Forfey of years ago. Tanya visiting, wonderful Tanya, having the best few days and becoming so close. The day trips, times at the beach, wearing whatever I wanted and finally not caring. Trying to get a job, failing, depression and tears. Seeing old friends on nights out. Caoimhe's birthday, the drunken night and the horrible walk home which ended with two strangers saving my life. Coming to terms with what was happening. More so, my inability to deal with it. 

September

University starting again, finally. Union, the drunkenness and the walk home the morning after. Bristol and the UK Feminista Conference, meeting Kelley and the start of a great friendship. Meeting so many incredible women and garnering support for the movement back in the north. Telling horror stories about our lack of access to reproductive health, feeling miserable and lonely and that the fight was too much. Remembering why we keep trying to do what we do, regardless of what they say about us. Seeing BJH, Sam and the beginning of us. Planning Berlin.

October

Ronan's birthday, nights in instead of out. Taking care of him. Wrestling with the ever internal battle to keep reminding myself that I was a girlfriend, not a therapist. Berlin, having the best four days. The city that seemed sad. The museums and the beer and the cheap wonderful food and the incredible people we met, sitting on the airport floor eating chips and drinking beer before going back to reality. Halloween that didn't happen, trying so hard to be understanding, seeing that it was wearing me away. The NUSUSI QUBSU referendum, friends caring who never used to, being called baby killers on the street. 

November

The SDLP Conference, the essay I managed first. Meltdowns. NUS Demo 2012, flying over for Women's Committee and meeting the most incredibly diverse group of intelligent women. Reminding myself that this was why we do it. The depression, the anxiety, essays gone to shit and classes missed. Blurry. Few photos, few outings of any significance, few memories save the ones mentioned. Blank. Depression.

December

December. Break up, the end of that. The end of the year. Turning 20, the disastrous weekend that it turned out to be, the tears and the depression. Letting go, entirely, of those who did nothing but ruin me. Saying goodbye to any hope of reconciliation. Days spent in bed, tears, anxiety, classes missed. Appointments cancelled and shite doctors and dealing with a university who seemed determined to put everything in my way. PostSecret, Dublin. Tears the entire way through. Meeting my hero, the one upside to what had been a terrible week. Home, family. Rest. Kittens! The best few days in what was a terrible month. Coming back, more appointments, new medications, seemingly stable. A new year's eve spent with good people, a new year's day spent with good friends. Welcoming in the new year tipsy and lonely, unsurprising. 

As a whole, this wasn't a very enjoyable thing to write. It didn't feel nice to look through photographs of people who are no longer in my life, and it didn't make me happy to try and remember the few happy times in between the dark mess that was most of my year. I have some wonderful friends and family in my life and have had some wonderful experiences this year, but it just doesn't feel like the good outweighs the bad, unfortunately. Which is a shame- because if the bad hadn't been so bad, then it might not be so. The good is good- travelling, meeting some amazing new people, NUSUSI, NUS, working, The Gown, simple drunken nights out in Limelight without a care in the world.. but it doesn't quite cut it. It doesn't quite make the dullness in any way more shiny. We are in a new year, but we still have last year's problems. Nothing has changed but the date. I managed to stay out of hospital, to stay in university- but it is difficult to list these things as things to be proud of when you know you are capable of accomplishing so much more. 

Maybe I am being too harsh on myself, maybe I need to give myself a break. Maybe finishing this post after a day working in the library wasn't the best idea. But that's what it's like. Sometimes I am lucky and have days when I feel like myself again, it is usually then that I decide to write it down, to document it. But there are the days in between, the days unseen to most people who know me. I've stopped saying 'I'm fine' when someone asks me how things are- I've stopped caring if it makes them awkward, I've stopped caring if it wasn't the answer they wanted to hear. Things aren't fine, and I'm not fine- so I won't pretend to be.

It feels sad to leave this post in this way. But I can't think of anything particularly uplifting to announce about my year, no matter what I've learned and the experiences I've had, it has been a bad one. 

2012.

I thought it appropriate to do a rounding up of 2012, a farewell to what was frankly a horrible year and one that I am glad to turn my back on. 

What seems most disappointing, however, is the fact that when I think about the year past I tend to think of it in terms of health and relationships- as if they are the only two things that mattered. I think of 2012 in terms of heartbreak and medication, hospitals and awkward mornings after. 

It is lucky that this year I decided to properly organise every photo I took into a relevant album with a title and a date- and without having done this, I think I would have forgotten a lot of what happened during the year.

Here is my year. Ups, downs, and everything in between.

January

Exam time, stress stress stress, blank periods in my mind. An empty Elms, too many Friday nights spent in union, too many Saturdays in Laverys. Cooking my first proper meal and being so proud of myself. Trying to remember to keep choosing health over thin. Becoming friends with Rachel, spending every weekend with Patsy, Emily & Anton. The trip to London, to his other life. Falling in love with Camden, and being in love with love. His Burberry coat, the drive to Essex, seeing Rebecca for the second time in a few months. The vodka, the mess of the night, the hospital and the ambulances. Crying. Coming home, happy to say goodbye to London until the next time.

February

A blur, save for these few photographs. That night in Limelight, the graffiti that reminded me that my failed suicide attempt was a failure to be happy with. The night spent in hospital, the nicest psychiatrist I've ever met, the never ending apparent strength of my liver to withstand all that I threw at it. Counting the tablets in my room, while a party I was holding continued in the next room. The worry in his voice, the lump in my throat in mine. Hallmates returning that night, no one seeing what had changed, what had happened. Telling my mum. The tears and the worry. Always, the tears and the worry.

Falling out of love. The sadness that came with the realisation that we weren't who we used to be, the spooning and the sadness and the vow to stay best friends. Not going to The Maccabees, there were to be no more Toothpaste Kisses.

March

Kathryn's birthday, the sabbatical elections. Meeting Adrianne- just another union political person then, but so much more now. The beginning of what would be my life within NUSUSI. Endless nights in Laverys. The Labour Tory pub crawl, becoming friends with Hannah and Rebecca. St Patrick's Day, watching the rugby and then eating chinese on the pavement; two bottles of wine and waking up on Tyler's sofa the next day confused and hungover as hell. SDLP nights out, Mondays spent in union. Too many morning walks home. 

April

SDLP Youth Conference. Joe Hendron, John McCallister, speeches and remembering why we all do this in the first place. Nights in Stiff Kitten. Difficult therapy sessions. Ties cut with my best friend, heart being slowly chipped away at by my former boyfriend. A miserable month. Ambulance, a friend I never realised I had. The beginning of a never ending supply of valium. The smiles by day and lonely, lonely nights.

May

Naomh's post-grad party, my first paid photography job. Meeting Sarah, summer came early to Belfast. House parties, Sketchy. James leaving, more goodbyes- but of the 'see you later' kind, the good kind. Realising how wonderful people can be without them even realising it. Vivian visiting Sarah, deciding to live together and counting down the weeks. Exams finally finishing, stopped caring long ago. Meeting Simon, his 'cultural experience' and the bliss of nights out, rolling home the next afternoon, and doing it all over again. Marina & the Diamonds, sun, constant sun. Having the best fortnight with the most incredible person, and the bittersweet ending that inevitably had to follow.

June

New piercings, always Sketchying. Beer nights in 76 and the horrific hilarious hangovers that followed. Staying in bed all morning talking about poetry and quoting too much John Donne to one another. Saying goodbye to Simon & Paul and the others, the hope that it isn't forever. Cliona's 18th, NUSUSI Women's Conference, my election. Reunion dinner, saying goodbye and good riddance to Elms after my second move. So glad to be away from the poisonous place with so many bad memories. Moving home.

This post is already horrendously long, so I'll save the next six months for another day. It is odd looking back at a year you hated, seeing happy memories.