An elderly woman has died. And although she
lived to the ripe old age of 87, she still leaves behind a grieving family, who
are no doubt wishing they’d had just a little more time to say their goodbyes.
Tributes are flooding in, as one might
expect. So, too, are the condemnatory opinion pieces. And this may well be one
of them. Because when you’re as divisive a figure as Margaret Thatcher, your
death is as likely to be celebrated as the life you led up to that point.
There will be countless writers, I’m sure, who
possess a much more comprehensive understanding of the political climate that
emerged around Thatcher’s election and took hold during her three terms in
power. They’ll speak eloquently and persuasively about her gradual
disassembling of this country’s heavy industries. They’ll explain in detail how
she attempted to take apart the NHS. And they’ll probably have a pop at her
about the milk.
The fact is, communities all over the UK
still bear the scars of her eleven years in power, a circumstance made all the
worse by the fact that the coalition seems determined to finish what she
started. Which leaves the rest of the country feeling like the battered wife
who finally breaks free, only to eventually settle down with another serial
abuser.
Growing up in 1980s South Yorkshire, I was
fully aware of the impact that Maggie’s leadership was having in the region. Whole
villages suddenly found themselves out of work, and once the industry died, so
too did the communities that fueled them.
But there was another area of life where
her cast iron grip really hit home. But unlike the miners and steelworkers, who
at least had each other to rally around, this was one we had to endure alone.
And it’s the reason I walked home with a spring in my step this evening.
Clause 28 was originally introduced into
local government in 1987 by Tory MP Dame Jill Knight, under the auspices of
protecting children from homosexual propaganda. By May of the following year,
the legislation was passed into law as Section 28, and explicitly forbade the
“promotion of homosexuality in schools.” It was, predictably, trumpeted by
those on the right as a triumph of common sense and old-fashioned values, over
the needs of militant homosexuals.
Had anyone bothered to raise much of an
objection at the time, any one of Maggie’s cabinet would have been primed to
talk about how they were just thinking of the children. A fine principle, in
theory, but for the fact that it was the kids who suffered as a direct
consequence. Whilst the Tories loved to scapegoat and scaremonger, creating the
illusion of an extended homosexual recruitment drive in our nation’s classrooms, the fact
remains that the only children who needed protection were the ones at risk from
bullying. And more often than not, they were the gay kids. Kids who wind up homeless,
because they’re kicked out by intolerant parents. Kids for whom verbal
abuse and beatings are a daily occurrence. Or kids like the one I knew,
who bled to death on his bedroom floor after sticking a kitchen knife in his
stomach, because he was worried he might be gay.
No-one knows the true extent of gay teenage
suicide, partly because many of the cases go undocumented. Even so, a number of
studies indicate that gay kids are around 40% more likely to attempt suicide
than their straight peers. These days, there are a lot more resources available
to young people, so suicide no longer seems like the only option. And yet the
statistics are still depressingly high.
Now, think back to the late eighties, and
consider the options. With most teenagers lacking the internal fortitude to broach
such a taboo subject with family or friends, it stands to reason that they’d
turn to their teachers or student counselors for advice. They, in turn, should
be able to explain to them that liking the same sex doesn’t have to be the end
of the world. Except that the government effectively issued them with a gagging
order.
As if the cruelty of the clause itself
wasn’t toxic enough, the wording was even more heinous. You see, the Tories
were smart enough to recognise that most people are inherently tolerant, so
they phrased their noxious Clause in such a way as to be virtually inarguable. Faced with the question “Do you think that
homosexuality should be promoted in schools?” it stands to reason that most
people would answer no. Largely because the notion of promoting something as innate
as sexuality, is nonsensical at best. Now, let’s try that again, only from the
point of view of the kids Clause 28 was supposed to be protecting. “Do you
think children who are being bullied or are unsure of their sexuality should be
able to approach their teacher for support and guidance?” Put that to a
referendum, and see how phrasing can skew the results.
Clause 28 was finally repealed by the
Labour government in 2003. Because no criminal act was created, not a single
prosecution ever took place. Instead, schools dramatically limited their activities
and, by extension, the support they were willing or able to offer. Many people
argue that Clause 28 was largely symbolic, however its legacy can still be felt
today. Homosexuality may finally have been legalised in Scotland and Northern
Ireland under Margaret’s rule, but that does nothing to excuse the fact that her
government still found a way to actively write discrimination into British law.
They made bigotry acceptable. And they demonstrated that if you want to push
through divisive and objectionable legislation, you can get pretty much
anything passed, just as long as you word it carefully.
No doubt someone’s already attempting to
calculate the number of elderly people who’ve died in fuel poverty, since Mrs
Thatcher spearheaded the privatisation of all those vital utilities. But I hope
they’ll also spare a thought for the other victims of her callous policies –
the unknown number who died long before they’d ever have to choose between heat
and food. They heard our country’s elected leader rallying against “positive
images” of gay people at the Conservative Party Conference in 1987, complaining
that “children are being taught that they have an inalienable right to be gay.”
It’s no wonder they felt they had nowhere else to turn.
Mrs Thatcher, I’m sure you’ll understand
why I won’t be paying my respects, since you never afforded me the same privilege.
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