24 мая 2015 года английская газета "Телеграф" опубликовала статью о том, что в Ирландии на "гейреферендуме" запретили нормальную семью. Якобы большинство страны проголосовало за то, чтобы здоровых и больных с 24 мая приказано поменять местами.
С 24 мая 2015 года все люди с диагнозом "половое расстройство личности" считаются нормальными, то есть "здоровыми". А все остальные "негеи" с 24 мая 2015 года в Ирландии объявляются "нездоровыми", "ненормальными". И им вручается диагноз "гетеросексуальное расстройство гейидентичности"
Здоровых гейреферендум объявил "больными", а больных - "здоровыми".
Что из этого следует? Новые правила разрешают передавать детей только гейздоровым. А у гетеробольных надо детей изымать как у больных. И отдавать гейздоровым.
Как такое стало возможным? Просто миром в Ирландии правят английские социоинженеры. Их бы точнее было бы назвать "гейинженерами":), но это попахивает при новом гейрежиме "протестом", что недопустимо в условиях гейдиктатуры.
Врачи считают, что патологические гейболезни неизлечимы и очень заразны. Но так считают только в другом, негейском мире. То есть, как минимум, за пределами Ирландии.
На фото в газете: две задницы со знаком равенство. Для негеев предложено гейжаргон читать "как вместо сердца".
Ireland's love for its gay children won out over fears for 'family'
The same sex marriage referendum saw the 'No' campaign tap in to heartache over historic forced adoptions in its focus on traditional families. But the visible pain of the gay community swayed most voters, writes Sarah Carey
A woman walks past a mural of two hearts painted in rainbow colors, in Dublin, Ireland Photo: Aidan Crawley/EPA
By Sarah Carey12:05PM BST 24 May 2015
Ursula Halligan is the political editor of TV3, a commercial television station in Ireland. She's a softly spoken, fair minded and highly regarded journalist, trusted by viewers and voters. Unmarried at 54, with a polite presence and conservative style, you wouldn't blame anyone for thinking her a determined spinster or, perhaps a nun who missed her calling. When she came out last week, describing how she had wilfully repressed her sexuality because she was dogged with Catholic guilt about her supposedly sinful sexual urges, it was another emotional turning point in this highly charged referendum. One middle-aged, middle-ground man who had decided to vote against the proposal to legalise same sex marriage said to me; "But it's Ursula. How can I say no?"
Compelled by Ireland's written constitution to put gay marriage to a popular vote, this is how a traditionally conservative country ended up being the first in the world to say "Yes" in a referendum on the issue. For months, we've heard personal testimony from homosexuals and their families about their struggle to accept themselves, their sons, daughters, nieces, nephews and grandchildren. Our health minister Leo Varadkar came out live on RTE radio. Mary McAleese, a former president and Catholic intellectual studying canon law in Rome, told us about her gay son. Tom Curran, the general secretary of Fine Gael, the leading government party, broke down during a press conference with his son, Finnian, who'd come out as a teenager.
• Ireland returns resounding vote in favour of gay marriage
Curran is a former seminarian and committed Catholic. A fellow parishioner of mine, he was reading at mass that same night; his presence on the altar a powerful antidote to a crude analysis of Catholic conservatism. He looked exhausted and worn. When I spoke to his wife and daughter afterwards, they had tears in their eyes. How could you say no?
This campaign began almost a year ago, and while the polls consistently showed an overwhelming majority in favour of the proposal, there was always a fear that Middle Ireland might swing the other way on the day.
The "Yes" campaign insisted that same sex marriage meant nothing more than allowing two people in love to say "I do". But the "No" campaign successfully raised the issue of children. The constitution, written in 1937, says that "the family is the natural primary and fundamental unit group of society", and that the state will "guard with special care the institution of marriage, on which the family is founded".
This being so, and in the shameful absence of any regulation on surrogacy, campaigners argued that the new definition of marriage would mean that gay men and women would have a constitutional right to acquire children who would grow up never knowing their biological parents. "Every child deserves a mother and father" claimed their controversial posters. It was a powerful argument in a country still coming to terms with the industrial-scale, forced adoptions of a more intolerant era. Until well into the 1970's, children born out of wedlock were taken from young women in oppressive "mother and baby" homes.
We're sadly accustomed to the painful narrative of how those children ached to find their real parents. Would gay marriage create, from within the constitution itself, new generations of children condemned to search for their true identity?
Also threatening the Yes vote was an occasionally intolerant approach from some gay rights campaigners. Back in January, Rory O'Neill, more popularly known as drag queen Panti Bliss, said on RTE television that people who were against gay marriage were homophobes. He singled out journalist John Waters and members of a conservative think tank called the Iona Institute. When RTE refused to apologise, Waters and the others sued. RTE settled. Gay rights campaigners were furious. There was talk of a "chilling effect" - from both sides. It meant that for a while, the debate was heavily polarised and alienated the middle ground.
It was this atmosphere that prompted figures such as Miss Halligan, Mrs McAleese and Mr Curran to intervene in an attempt to remind people that the children we should be thinking of were the gay children of Ireland. It was imperative to the "Yes" campaign that they did so. Irish people are often portrayed as being conservative, when in truth they are decent and generous. But they were forced to think deeply about an institution straight people take for granted, and consider the implications for future legislation and possible court cases.
In the end, legal arguments about surrogacy and parenthood were washed away by the visible pain and need of their gay friends and family members to be accepted not just by each other, but by their country. Irrespective of one's reservations; in the end, when someone you know and love and respect asks you to say yes, how could you say no?
Sarah Carey is an Irish columnist and broadcaster
