CONNECT: Remember the Special Olympics slogan: "Share the feeling"? You could see it etched on the faces of Government backbenchers this week, as they basked in the afterglow of a touchy-feely Budget which finally delivered for disabled people, writes Carl O'Brien.
The thunderous cheers in the Dáil accompanying the announcement were as much an expression of relief that disability lobby groups might finally be off their backs as they were a welcome for the new spending plans.
But away from the din of the chamber, all this talk of making disabled people equal members of society rings hollow. For sure, people with disabilities are delighted to get a five-year funding package worth €900 million. They're happy, if a little perplexed, the word "disability" is figuring so prominently in the Budget all of a sudden. And they're hopeful funds will be pumped into the sector over the next five years.
However, anger has been smouldering among disabled people, their carers and support groups as they inspect a piece of legislation which will be around long after funds have been exhausted and political promises have faded.
The 65-page Disability Bill is, like most pieces of legislation, an impenetrable piece of legalese. But, when stripped of its dense verbiage, its tone quickly becomes clear. Instead of giving rights to people with disabilities, it plans to either refuse rights or sharply limit the grounds upon which rights of any kind would be meaningful. It would also create a nightmarish bureaucracy of hundreds of assessment officers, liaison officers, complaints officers and appeals officers, backed up by teams of civil servants.
In one breath it mentions the priority of providing funds for disability services, and in the next it limits these promises with opt-out clauses such as "where resources allow" and "where practicable". And, at its most mean-spirited, it would in many cases block the courts as a right of access for disabled people who feel their assessed needs were not being met by health authorities.
So what does all this mean in practice? In Weekend Review last month we carried a story of a 14-year-old autistic boy whose parents were taking the State to court over its alleged failure to provide education and therapies for their son. The State is contesting the allegations.
The boy's behavioural problems are so acute that he has been at home for two years without any education. The frustration builds up inside to the point where his only outlet is to destroy the things around him. We can't say much about his case as it's before the High Court. But we can speculate as to how the Bill might affect someone like him if it is enacted as planned.
The 14-year old, who has severe behavioural problems and communications difficulties, would have the right to an assessment of needs.
This assessment would result in a statement of the services he is entitled to. But the person drawing up this statement is supposed to include what services are "practicable" to provide, regardless of the individual's needs. These must not include services that would cost a health board more than it has budgeted for.
If his parents are unhappy with the statement, there is an appeals process, but this too is linked to the health board. The courts might be a place of last resort but, then again, they might not: the Bill will, arguably, substantially narrow the grounds upon which a disabled person may go to court seeking provision of services.
At least the €900 million that's promised will be safe. Or will it? Brian Cowen may not realise it, but vast sums of money are to be ploughed into the voluntary sector where, at least for the time being, there are no established standards for services. It's questionable whether such a loose attitude towards this money would be allowed prevail in any other sector.
The reservations among the disabled community over whether this funding will be just a one-off gesture are understandable given the shaky legislative foundations upon which these promises are being made.
If anyone wanted evidence that solemn funding pledges can be broken at a whim, look no further than the Dáil this week. The Tánaiste, Mary Harney, was being pressed on why the Government was not meeting its pledges on overseas aid. "Unfortunately, there are many competing demands - particularly in the area of disability, in which the Government has had to deliver significant increases in funding." In effect, she said the Government was breaking a promise to the world's poor to give money to disabled people at home. It's one or the other. There's no room for both.
And so it goes in the disability sector. Sometimes it feels like the "share the feeling" slogan of the Special Olympics was a catch-cry for a conscience-salving exercise now in danger of being forgotten about.
The Government has a chance to show it hasn't forgotten, and that this funding pledge wasn't just a piece of political expediency. For years, disability funding has been like a tap, turned on or off at the whim of Government. The hope was the Disability Bill would keep that tap running rather than dripping.
As of now, there are no guarantees, only promises.