Revolutions rarely happen overnight. They usually take decades of work, of activism, of painfully slow political lobbying and of mobilising new generations. In the case of Ireland’s move to repeal the Eighth Amendment, that revolution took 35 years. In 1983, Ireland voted to add the Eighth Amendment to the country’s constitution – a law that made abortion illegal under nearly all circumstances, and resulted in over three decades worth of journeys across the Irish Sea to access safe reproductive healthcare in the UK, as well as countless deaths.
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In 2012, the conversation around reproductive rights in Ireland went global when 31-year-old Savita Halappanavar died from sepsis after being refused an abortion during a miscarriage. Halappanavar’s tragic death was met with outrage from the majority of the Irish public, pro-choice campaigners and international human rights organisations, and the movement to repeal the Eighth Amendment surged forward with renewed energy, resulting in 2018’s referendum and the people of Ireland overwhelmingly voting to make abortion legal. During the referendum, three filmmakers – Maeve O’Boyle, Aideen Kane and Lucy Kennedy – returned to their homeland to start documenting what they knew would be a historic campaign. The result is The 8th, a film that captures the spirit of the referendum, from both pro-choice and pro-life perspectives, and chronicles the long history of reproductive justice in Ireland. Ahead of The 8th’s release in the UK, I spoke to the three filmmakers over Zoom to discuss capturing Irish history on film, interviewing pro-life campaigners and the power of grassroots activism. VICE: When did you all come together and decide you wanted to make a film about the movement to repeal the Eighth Amendment?
Maeve O’Boyle: The three of us came together in 2016 to discuss the idea of doing something on the movement. There was huge momentum in Ireland at that time – it was a few years after Savita Halappanavar tragically died in 2012, and we could see a massive shift going on in Irish society, with the move to repeal really heating up. We had that initial conversation in 2016, and a year later we were on the ground in Ireland meeting activists and campaigners. We also felt like it was a story for our generation to tell. The three of us had grown up in Ireland under the shadow of the Eighth Amendment, and had witnessed tragic cases of women travelling to the UK in the 70s, 80s, 90s and beyond.
Aideen Kane: I was a teenager when the Eighth Amendment came into power. To equate the life of a woman with the life of a foetus... it was such a crushing blow, and a defining moment for what felt possible with my life. Shortly after I went to university I had to travel to London for an abortion, which was pretty commonplace, but, at the time, there was so much secrecy around it. Fast forward 25 years, to when my mother had just died, and I remember thinking about how she had been silenced growing up in rural Ireland, and how the church had been involved in her family planning. Then I had my own daughter, and then Savita died. The three of us recognised that this was a defining moment in Irish women’s history. It was time for change.
Maeve O’Boyle: The three of us came together in 2016 to discuss the idea of doing something on the movement. There was huge momentum in Ireland at that time – it was a few years after Savita Halappanavar tragically died in 2012, and we could see a massive shift going on in Irish society, with the move to repeal really heating up. We had that initial conversation in 2016, and a year later we were on the ground in Ireland meeting activists and campaigners. We also felt like it was a story for our generation to tell. The three of us had grown up in Ireland under the shadow of the Eighth Amendment, and had witnessed tragic cases of women travelling to the UK in the 70s, 80s, 90s and beyond.
Aideen Kane: I was a teenager when the Eighth Amendment came into power. To equate the life of a woman with the life of a foetus... it was such a crushing blow, and a defining moment for what felt possible with my life. Shortly after I went to university I had to travel to London for an abortion, which was pretty commonplace, but, at the time, there was so much secrecy around it. Fast forward 25 years, to when my mother had just died, and I remember thinking about how she had been silenced growing up in rural Ireland, and how the church had been involved in her family planning. Then I had my own daughter, and then Savita died. The three of us recognised that this was a defining moment in Irish women’s history. It was time for change.
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Do you see Savita Halappanavar’s death as that final push towards Ireland holding the 2018 referendum?
Lucy Kennedy: Savita’s death was massive for a younger generation of women, but Aideen, Maeve and I can all remember the 1983 referendum. I was seven at the time, and I remember asking my uncle why he wore little gold feet on his lapel. He told me that those were the feet of dead babies, because he was part of the movement to introduce the Eighth Amendment. So we all knew about this, but there was a generation of women who grew up in a different kind of Ireland – a more self-confident, secular Ireland that only realised after Savita died what the restrictions were on them, and were furious.
AK: Savita’s death was obviously a huge international story, so there was pressure on the Irish government to act. They were being called out for their treatment of women, so they didn’t have much of a choice because the eyes of the world were on Ireland. It was inevitable that something was going to happen.
Lucy Kennedy: Savita’s death was massive for a younger generation of women, but Aideen, Maeve and I can all remember the 1983 referendum. I was seven at the time, and I remember asking my uncle why he wore little gold feet on his lapel. He told me that those were the feet of dead babies, because he was part of the movement to introduce the Eighth Amendment. So we all knew about this, but there was a generation of women who grew up in a different kind of Ireland – a more self-confident, secular Ireland that only realised after Savita died what the restrictions were on them, and were furious.
AK: Savita’s death was obviously a huge international story, so there was pressure on the Irish government to act. They were being called out for their treatment of women, so they didn’t have much of a choice because the eyes of the world were on Ireland. It was inevitable that something was going to happen.
Photo: 'The 8th'
The film has two key characters, Ailbhe Smyth and Andrea Horan. How did you find them and why did you pick them to represent the pro-choice movement?
LK: Ailbhe Smyth has been involved in the movement since 1983, so the trajectory of her life mirrors the trajectory of the film. Ailbhe started her activism in the 70s, at the beginning of the women’s rights movement in Ireland, and fought every single referendum – divorce, abortion, marriage equality. She’s just this extraordinary intellect and charismatic presence, so it was obvious that we had to court her.
MO: We knew Ailbhe would be driving the campaign, but we wanted to capture the whole grassroots movement, and really the people pushing it forward were women in their twenties and thirties who would be directly affected by the change in law. We wanted someone who was doing something different, and then we met Andrea, who was fighting the fight by doing a Repeal the Eighth nail art bar and organising murals on walls.
AK: We wanted to show the transformation of Ireland and that intergenerational difference in how you campaign, and rights versus values. Ailbhe brought together 95 groups under the Coalition to Repeal the Eighth Amendment, and each group had their own perspectives and policies. So we thought, ‘How do we also represent that?’ By having Ailbhe and Andrea we had these different perspectives. We also actively sought similar lead characters from the pro-life – as they call themselves – side of the debate, however we didn’t get as much time with them.
LK: Ailbhe Smyth has been involved in the movement since 1983, so the trajectory of her life mirrors the trajectory of the film. Ailbhe started her activism in the 70s, at the beginning of the women’s rights movement in Ireland, and fought every single referendum – divorce, abortion, marriage equality. She’s just this extraordinary intellect and charismatic presence, so it was obvious that we had to court her.
MO: We knew Ailbhe would be driving the campaign, but we wanted to capture the whole grassroots movement, and really the people pushing it forward were women in their twenties and thirties who would be directly affected by the change in law. We wanted someone who was doing something different, and then we met Andrea, who was fighting the fight by doing a Repeal the Eighth nail art bar and organising murals on walls.
AK: We wanted to show the transformation of Ireland and that intergenerational difference in how you campaign, and rights versus values. Ailbhe brought together 95 groups under the Coalition to Repeal the Eighth Amendment, and each group had their own perspectives and policies. So we thought, ‘How do we also represent that?’ By having Ailbhe and Andrea we had these different perspectives. We also actively sought similar lead characters from the pro-life – as they call themselves – side of the debate, however we didn’t get as much time with them.
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I wanted to ask about including perspectives from the pro-life campaign in the film. Why did you want to include those voices? Was it important to have a balance, even if you didn’t personally agree with their campaign?
LK: We always said that this is a film with a point of view, but we also wanted to show the other side – to show what the pro-choice side was up against, and because it was a campaign with two sides. It would have been a much less nuanced film without showing that perspective.
AK: For me, making the film was about stepping back from, and interrogating, our personal politics. We wanted a full picture of what was happening in Ireland. To tell one side wouldn’t have been in any way to document this moment in history.
MO: On a personal level, we all grew up in Ireland with the Eighth Amendment. A lot of our family members aren’t necessarily pro-choice, so we grew up with a nuanced perspective of the issue. In some ways, it was important to address and hear those sides, because that felt like a fuller picture. It was about trying to capture that Ireland we’d grown up in. What was it like filming on the day of the referendum results?
MO: It was really overwhelming on that day. We’d spent years documenting the campaign, and then suddenly we were in this final moment. There was a really torn feeling between being a filmmaker documenting the day and just wanting to be an Irish woman witness something historic.
LK: It was also one of the few times the three of us were filming together. It was monumentally emotional in a way that’s hard to describe even now. It felt like we were being seen and we mattered.
AK: It felt like, for the first time, we were full citizens of our own country. When they formally announced it, there was so much jubilation and then people just started weeping. You could see the weight physically lifting and people were just falling into each other's arms.
LK: We always said that this is a film with a point of view, but we also wanted to show the other side – to show what the pro-choice side was up against, and because it was a campaign with two sides. It would have been a much less nuanced film without showing that perspective.
AK: For me, making the film was about stepping back from, and interrogating, our personal politics. We wanted a full picture of what was happening in Ireland. To tell one side wouldn’t have been in any way to document this moment in history.
MO: On a personal level, we all grew up in Ireland with the Eighth Amendment. A lot of our family members aren’t necessarily pro-choice, so we grew up with a nuanced perspective of the issue. In some ways, it was important to address and hear those sides, because that felt like a fuller picture. It was about trying to capture that Ireland we’d grown up in. What was it like filming on the day of the referendum results?
MO: It was really overwhelming on that day. We’d spent years documenting the campaign, and then suddenly we were in this final moment. There was a really torn feeling between being a filmmaker documenting the day and just wanting to be an Irish woman witness something historic.
LK: It was also one of the few times the three of us were filming together. It was monumentally emotional in a way that’s hard to describe even now. It felt like we were being seen and we mattered.
AK: It felt like, for the first time, we were full citizens of our own country. When they formally announced it, there was so much jubilation and then people just started weeping. You could see the weight physically lifting and people were just falling into each other's arms.
Photo: 'The 8th'
That moment in the film really brought home the power of community and activism and gathering together. What’s it been like to release the film now, at a time when we aren’t able to gather in that same way?
AK: It’s been hard not to be with people when watching the film, especially communities that played a role in this part of Irish history. We wish we could have opened the film in the UK and shown it to the nurses, taxi drivers, doctors and activists who have supported Irish women over the last 35 years. But the pandemic has also opened up conversations around reproductive justice. Like in the US, abortion is legal, but access is so restricted, and the pandemic has been used to roll back access even further. Reproductive justice is an even more important conversation than ever.
LK: And the need to protest is just as important as ever. I’m glad that the film brought back to you the power of community, and I hope it does that for other people, especially in terms of organising. One thing the film shows is the power of protest, and that’s something we’ve also learned during the pandemic. The 8th is released on the 25th of May. Find out more here.
AK: It’s been hard not to be with people when watching the film, especially communities that played a role in this part of Irish history. We wish we could have opened the film in the UK and shown it to the nurses, taxi drivers, doctors and activists who have supported Irish women over the last 35 years. But the pandemic has also opened up conversations around reproductive justice. Like in the US, abortion is legal, but access is so restricted, and the pandemic has been used to roll back access even further. Reproductive justice is an even more important conversation than ever.
LK: And the need to protest is just as important as ever. I’m glad that the film brought back to you the power of community, and I hope it does that for other people, especially in terms of organising. One thing the film shows is the power of protest, and that’s something we’ve also learned during the pandemic. The 8th is released on the 25th of May. Find out more here.