In the pink?

There can't be many people left who don't know that, come January, we'll have a new currency

There can't be many people left who don't know that, come January, we'll have a new currency. Another New Year initiative may come as a surprise: the news that the Garda S∅ochβna is to establish a network of garda∅ to act as liaison officers with the gay and lesbian community. The network will encourage the reporting and investigation of crime affecting gay men and women.

Five of the 14 officers will be based in the Dublin area; others will be based in Cork, Galway and, according to Supt Vincent Maguire of the Garda community-relations department, "all the major centres of population where there is perceived to be a need for them".

It is an enlightened move, but it does not mean we live in an enlightened society. Attacks on gay men, in particular, are a regular occurrence in cities and towns in the Republic - and for "attack", read serious physical assault, blackmail and verbal abuse. Then there's also what one gay man describes as "low-level stuff - everything from unpleasant graffiti to constant harassment in your own home".

For many victims, however, making an official complaint has resulted in further humiliation or traumatic "outing", at home or at work. Many homophobic crimes are therefore never reported, let alone punished.

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Defining the problem is part of the difficulty. A recent survey in the UK by Channel 4 suggested that the level of homophobic crime may be considerably higher than suspected.

Of 10,500 people who responded to the Gay UK questionnaire, a quarter said they had been subjected to a serious homophobic attack in the previous 12 months. Of those, 61 per cent of gay men did not report the attack to the police; in the case of lesbians, the figure rose to 74 per cent - and this in a state that legalised homosexuality 30 years ago.

It would hardly be surprising if in the Republic, where homosexuality was legalised as recently as 1993, members of the gay community were even more reluctant to seek help or protection from the forces of law and order.

One of the directors of Gay Switchboard Dublin, a confidential helpline that receives more than 4,000 calls a year, says that between 1 and 2 per cent of its calls are from people who are experiencing violence, abuse or harassment, but who are unwilling to report it.

"Some are being blackmailed by workmates. Others are being harassed and intimidated by their neighbours. In a few cases, people who have never told anyone they are gay have answered small ads and found themselves the victims of a sexual assault.

"Lots of people feel powerless, because if they report the crime, they worry that everyone will find out about their sexuality. This means that many do nothing and the perpetrators carry on flouting the law."

In 1995, a spate of attacks on gay men in the centre of Dublin led to calls for the Garda to take action. A report in the October 1995 edition of Gay Community News recalls one of the assaults, on a man whose name is given as Andrew, in horrific detail: "He was kicked and beaten about the face, head and torso by a gang of five men. One of the assailants scrunched his boot into Andrew's forehead. They opened the attack with a shout of 'There's one!' " As it happened, Andrew reported the attack - and was treated sympathetically by the garda he spoke to - but it quickly became obvious that the lack of trust between the Garda and the gay community was a stumbling block.

"When gays and lesbians go to the police, the police tend not to have any clue about their issues," says Stephen Mulkearn, the editor of Gay Community News. "If people are not open about their sexuality, they may not want the garda∅ to contact them at home, for example, because they may not want their parents or family to know."

For some, simply walking into a Garda station may present a problem; others may be reluctant to give their real names, press charges or give evidence in court.

In the autumn of 1995, Finbarr Murphy, a sergeant working out of Pearse Street station, was appointed liaison officer to the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender community. His phone number was printed in gay directories and in Gay Community News, and although his brief was originally a local one, Murphy was swiftly recognised by gay community representatives as someone who could solve problems nationally.

He was able to iron out difficulties in places as far away as Cork, Limerick and Waterford - and, by referring cases to specific officers, was able to deal with them in a sensitive manner. The gay community has described him as an angel; elsewhere, he has been dubbed the gay sergeant, among other things. None of it bothers him, he says. "I reckon I've had all the slagging I'm going to get on this."

What does bother Murphy is the idea that people are not getting the protection they are entitled to as citizens of the State. "Over the last five years, some of the crimes I've dealt with have been of a very serious nature. We don't know how prevalent gay-related crime is, and statistically it's likely to be quite small. But what we're saying is, if somebody has been a victim of a gay-related crime, we want to know about it - and that's why we're appointing liaison officers.

"Less than 10 years ago it was illegal to be gay, so it's not good enough just to say, now, 'It's OK to be gay,' and hope for the best. The Garda have to be proactive in their approach, and encourage victims to come forward. "We can guarantee a sympathetic hearing, and confidentiality is paramount."

The identification of individual garda∅ as trained and ready to help has been a crucial step in tackling crime affecting the gay community, says Brian Sheehan of Gay HIV Strategies. "The existence of a liaison officer has been hugely important for individuals at the most vulnerable times," he says. "Public profile is very important."

The appointment of a further 14 liaison officers around the Republic is also, clearly, something to be welcomed - as are confidence-building measures of a more light-hearted nature, such as a joint charity concert by the Garda Band and Gloria, a gay and lesbian choir, scheduled for the National Concert Hall next April.

But there is still work to be done. As Sheehan points out, general Garda training is a priority. "There are progressive members of the Garda who recognise that being gay is no reason to be subjected to a crime - that, if you like, a crime is a crime is a crime.

"Equally, there are still many individual garda∅ who don't understand that. But I think it's a major advance for Irish society as a whole. It sends out very important signals to the youth services, to the educational sector and so on. It says: 'Look, this is what equality is: treating people equally, no matter what minority they come from.' "

The new Garda liaison officers are as follows: Sgt Finbarr Murphy, Dublin Sth Central, 01-6669000; Det Gda Andy Tuite, Dublin West, 01-6667400; Sgt Derval Supple, Dublin East, 01-6665400; Gda Frank Tracey, Dublin Nth Central, 01-6668200; Det Sgt Gerry Deegan, D.V.S.A.U., 01-6660000; Gda Eleanor O'Kelly, Cork City, 021-4270681;Gda John Reilly, Limerick, 061-212400; Sgt Padraig Dunne/Gda Sinead Coleman, Waterford, 051-305300; Sgt Gerry Mangan, Galway West, 091-538000; Gda Pat Keegan/Gda Mary O'Connor, Athlone, 0902-92609; Sgt Vincent Jackson, Dundalk, 042-9335577.

Arminta Wallace

Arminta Wallace

Arminta Wallace is a former Irish Times journalist