Taboo fascinates and repels in equal measure; it is that which is repressed in a culture, but it is also that which defines it. For a society to reassure itself that it is civilized, it has to bear in mind notions, however shadowy, of savagery, of philistinism, of barbarism: of that which is un-civil. Polarities of good and evil, heaven and hell, God and the Devil, help to place us on a moral map, thereby lessening the anxiety of living. The more anxious we are, as a general rule, the wider the polarisation; we huddle around moral absolutes in stressful times, shivering righteously under God’s umbrella, purging ourselves of ambiguity and complexity. Piling our sins on the backs of convenient scapegoats, we expel the taboo-breakers to the wilderness, to a fiery Hell of our imagination. And we feel better for it. For a while.
In the Western world, where rationality is king, sex is often what provokes the most anxiety, because our animal natures consistently confuse and unsettle us, offend our logical minds. The more fixated we are in obeying reason, the more likely it is that, one day (or, more probably, one drunken fumbling night), desire will grab the throne, and however short the giddy reign of this Lord of Misrule, what happens then can change the course of our life forever, with an unwanted pregnancy or a disease or the breakup of a family.
The concept of sin, as a means of copperfastening the sex taboo, taps into another polarity in our culture, the Christian split between spirit and flesh. Not only do we fear sex for its capacity to disrupt our capacity to think clearly, it's also lipsmackingly nasty and dirty. As sexual creatures we are immoral, indecent; firmly out of reach of sanctity and purity. If cleanliness is next to godliness, sexual beings are in a spiritual gutter.
It is undeniable that we are moving away, slowly, from the old moral codes around sex. In Irish culture, this can only be a good thing – the polarisation was intense and punitive. Sexual scapegoats were enslaved, as the Magdalene girls were, or driven out, as the Irish gay and lesbian diaspora can attest. Darker still, however, was the stark evidence that a shame-based morality on matters sexual fails to deliver when put into practice. The greatest taboo of all, sex with children, was flouted repeatedly and compulsively by those who were espousing Christian sexual morality most fervently: priests.
In moving to a post-Christian society, the question of how we tackle the thorny issue of adolescent sexuality has never been more pressing. Paradoxically, the same taboo against sex with children also serves as a block to educate children properly about sex, which is perfectly understandable, but in the long run, misguided. There is a knee-jerk reaction against adults wading into that territory, of robbing children of their “innocence”. But kids who watch South Park (and I don’t know any kid who hasn’t) have already chewed many juicy apples from the Tree of Knowledge to the core, and spat out the pips.
Adolescence is a developmental stage where we need to defy our parents to establish our identity. For some teenagers, the more absolute the prohibition, the more inviting it is to transgress. Strict moral imperatives do not work any more – we have to start thinking imaginatively, laterally, in order to meet the challenge of the sexually precocious child. It is not helpful to look at Britain as an example of secular liberalism for Ireland to follow, because Britain, and in particular the emotionally repressed English, have their own particular inhibitions about bringing the sexual realm into the open. Teenagers in Britain may know about the mechanics of sex, but are exquisitely embarrassed to talk about it with their peers. Sex may be everywhere in the popular culture, but it is not cool to admit how confusing it is, to confess to its irrationality. It is why the UK has the highest rate of teenage pregnancy in Europe. And, unfortunately, we share with the British a culture of alcohol abuse, using binge drinking at the weekends to act as a dis-inhibitor to open up, because we lack the skills to do it unaided.
We need to look to the Netherlands or Denmark to find social models that are more effective, where teenagers are not afraid to talk honestly with each other about the risks of sex, the challenges of sex, the mysteries of sex, the specialness of it. In Ireland, this poses a particularly daunting challenge to parents and teachers – because we have to master an emotional literacy that was not taught us at school. Can we sit with today’s young people and listen to them talking about sex, without flinching? Instead of reaching for the fixed certainties of sin, can we admit to children that we, too, have found it a struggle in our own lives, and encourage each child to develop their own sense of morality, of sexual responsibility, of sexual imagination, for themselves?